The Brass Statuettes

© Copyright 2007, 2009

Autumn Writer

Chapter 14-Discovery

Brenda sat in a chair at the round table on Gloria’s veranda.  Juana had just cleared their lunch dishes.  Although the weather was quite pleasant, no one wore their swimsuit under cropped pants and blouses; no expectation of margaritas poolside in the après-lunch. 

To Brenda, Gloria’s appearance appeared grim even though she had good news to tell the group—at least, it was good in Brenda’s estimation.  Gloria had briefed Brenda in advance.  Knowledge of the paradox made Brenda feel even more confident.    The especially satisfying part was that Brenda understood Gloria’s inexplicable mood so well.  The others couldn’t begin to comprehend the gloom darkening the silver lining, and that understanding meant indispensability.

“The pool party was a total failure,” Gloria announced.  “All the secretaries left after Trudy and Jeannette stomped out.  Not a one volunteered to work for the Foundation.”

“I don’t think anyone actually asked them,” Ashley pointed out.  “They left while you were inside.”

Brenda winced as Ashley spoke.  Experience taught her that blame must be meted out correctly; and correctness and alignment with facts weren’t always the same thing. 

“What would you have expected,” Brenda scolded the lesser-experienced member of the group.  “It was clear that everything was going bad when Trudy broke up the party.  Of course, she led Jeannette out with her.”

“Of course,” Ashley agreed, “It was Trudy and Jeannette’s fault.” 

“No, just Trudy’s,” Brenda corrected.  “Jeannette’s just a secretary.  It would be natural for her to follow Trudy out.  She was lucky to get a chance to be here in the first place.”  The wrong had been righted.

“I didn’t know that Trudy can’t take a joke,” Ashley said.  “If I had known…”

“It’s Trudy’s fault,” Gloria interrupted, stifling the apology.  “And it was my fault for trusting her.  She fooled me with that performance at the Sunrise School.  I should have seen through it.  She was trying to worm her way in and take over.”

“She could never fill your shoes, Gloria.  She was a fool to even think she could,” Brenda added.

“Her thinking is middle-class.  I thought we could change her, but it is something that can never be changed.  I should not have let her get so close,” Gloria said, biting her lip.  “We’ll have to deal with Trudy.  I have an idea I’m working on.”

Brenda sat back, smug as she accounted for every detail unfolding as if she had written a script. 

Ashley straightened up with a start.  “But that means that we don’t have Trudy or the secretaries to do the office work for us.”

“I took care of that,” Gloria assured the group.  “I got Alvin to pledge more money from the company so that we can hire our own help.  I’m going to a Temp Agency tomorrow to talk it over.”

“Owww, that sounds wonderful,” Ashley said.  “What did you have to do to—or should I say for—Alvin to get him to go for that?”  She started giggling as if she knew the answer. 

“First I insisted that he order the secretaries to volunteer,” Gloria said.  “He said ‘no’—I knew he would.  I told him that he had to make Frank tell Trudy to apologize.  He said ‘no’ to that, too.  We fought for a while and then we had our extra money.”

“Oh,” Ashley mumbled.

“I gave him a nice blowjob later to say ‘thank you’,” Gloria added, and Ashley’s face brightened.  “He’ll remember it next time.”

Brenda basked in self-satisfaction.  Things were getting back to normal, and normalcy was a condition that she could manage.  She started thinking that perhaps a few drinks would be in order, after all.  She started to suggest it, but had a sense that something else wasn’t quite right.  She turned to the youngest of the quartet, sitting in the chair beside her.  “Why are you so quiet, Darlene?”

It was true; Darlene had been silent throughout the whole discussion and lunch before that.  Brenda had been noticing it for quite a few minutes.  She’d kept silent until then because Gloria was the leader.  It was her place to tend to unhappy members of the flock.  Brenda realized that Gloria was preoccupied about Trudy and the spoiled party.  It was for Gloria to make pronouncements; it was Brenda’s job to keep everything in order.

Gloria snapped to attention when Brenda cast attention on Darlene.  “Yes, that’s true, Darlene,” she said   “What’s the matter; why’re you so quiet today?”

“It’s Jason,” Darlene blurted.  Her voice told of tears being held back—but held back they would be.  “He’s at it again.  He wants to find a new job; to be a dean at some university up north.”

Gloria rubbed her chin; Brenda waited for Gloria to say something.  Ashley’s eyes were dancing, as they did whenever she sensed a chance for fun.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Ashley said out of turn.  She sported an impish grin.  “It would be such a nice, contented life,” she sighed, “sitting barefoot and cross-legged on the lawn discussing the environment; tea and cookies with the grad students’ wives; maybe something more interesting with the grad students.”  She giggled.  “The male grad students, of course.”

“Ashley,” Brenda scolded.  “Darlene’s serious.  Don’t rub it in.”

“But she’s raht,” Darlene whined.  “That’s jus’ how it is.  Ah did it once ‘n’ I couldn’t hardly bear it.  Ah’ll nevah go back.”

“Oh, my dear,” Gloria finally spoke, “that does sound awful.”

“An’ he wants to move to Upstate New York,” she whined, “of all the places.”  She buried her face in her hands.

“Well, we can’t let that happen,” Brenda declared.  “Why is he doing this now?”

“He says it’s because of Frank Bennett,” Darlene bleated into her hands.  “Jason says that Frank doesn’t like ‘im; that he’s holdin’ back money from his research.  Yesterday, he lied about Jason to the FBI.  He’s makin’ Jason simply mizrable.”

“If it isn’t Trudy, then it’s Frank,” Gloria snorted.  She put her arms around the wounded lamb.

Darlene drew hands away from her face.  “Ah know—but what am Ah to do?”

“That’s easy,” Gloria said.  “If the problem is Finance, then you’ve got to talk to Jim Sweeney.”

“Jim Sweeney?” Darlene asked.  “Do Ah have to?”

“We already discussed this a few days ago,” Brenda reminded her.

“I call him Mr. Hands,” Ashley snickered.

“Whatever!  He’s the director with the most influence over corporate finances and the people who run them,” Gloria instructed.

“But Ah wouldn’t know what to say t’ him,” Darlene asked in a perplexed tone.

“Just tell him you need a favor,” Brenda answered.  “Jim’s very good at doing favors.”

Darlene took a breath to speak, and halted before letting it out.  She cocked her head and glanced around at the three faces looking back at her.  “Why,” she stammered, “why should he do a favor for me?” 

“Why, indeed?” Ashley sniffed, and then didn’t even try to hide the smirk that had crept across her face.

“You have to do what you must,” Gloria mumbled.

Darlene’s eyes darted among the group once more.  “Ah couldn’t,” she gasped.  “Ah jus’ could not do it.  Ah’ve always been true to Jason,” she swore, “even before we were married.” 

“And why couldn’t you?” Ashley demanded.  “Just because you haven’t done it before?  Is that what you said when you were a virgin?  You’re not a virgin now, are you?”

“Why…well…back then there was a reason…”

“The stakes are a lot higher now, girl,” Ashley sneered.  “You don’t have to fall in love with him—at least all the way; just barely enough to get him to do you a favor.”

Darlene was panting and perspiration gathered above her brow, which she daintily padded away with her napkin.  “Ah remembah talkin’ ‘bout this,” she admitted.  “It was all ‘jus’ s’pose’ back then.  Now it’s the real thing.  Ah nevah dreamed …”

“None of us did, honey,” Gloria growled.  “We all managed.”

“Wait, wait—all of you!” Brenda demanded.  “Don’t scare Darlene like this.  You don’t have to go to bed with anyone you don’t want.  Jim likes to have pretty women talk to him in a pretty way, that’s all.  You just have to flirt with him.  Make him think you will sleep with him if he’ll only do this one thing for you.  Keep leading him on.”

“But what if…”  Darlene began to ask.

“Just keep leading him on,” Brenda repeated.  “There’ll always be a problem you can make up.  Just let him keep thinking ‘next time-next time’.  Eventually, he’ll move on to someone easier.”

“But be sure he helps you before he loses interest,” Gloria insisted.

“But I’ve nevah done anythin’ like that,” Darlene protested.  “Ah don’t know if I can.”

“It’ll take a big effort; you’ve got to keep your wits about you,” Brenda answered.  “You’ve got to be smart and make your plan ahead of time.  But, it can be done.  He is almost seventy, after all.”

“It’s not hard to be smarter than a man who’s horny,” Ashley piped up. 

“You can do it,” Brenda told her “and when it’s over, think how you’ll feel.  You’ll have taken your whole life in your own hands.  You’ll have made a man do your bidding—on your terms.  Do you want to be controlled—or in control?”

“And Jason will be here to stay,” Gloria said.  “You won’t have to worry about those ivy-covered college halls.”

“Or the snow in Upstate New York,” Ashley added. “It’s for Jason’s good, too—in the long-run.”

“And don’t worry,” Brenda assured her.  “Whatever happens, it’ll be strictly secret among the four of us.”

“As usual,” Gloria confirmed.

Darlene patted her brow again.  Further words were needless; her friends’ expectations were clearly stated.  “Ah don’t even know the man,” she pointed out. 

“I do,” Gloria said.  “I’ll arrange everything.”

************* 

It was a three-hour drive to San Antonio on I-10 and that gave Darlene a chance to think about what she was doing.  Gloria had told her not to think about it too much, and she tried to do as Gloria said. 

She stopped to see Gloria as she drove out of town, and that scene played through her memory, too.  She modeled the black dress she planned to wear when she would meet with Sweeney.  It was sleeveless and cut low enough to show a reasonable amount of cleavage—more, if an interested man were willing to crane his neck a little to take in more than his share, and more, yet, if the wearer so desired. 

“Do y’all think Ah should wear the pearls, too?”

Gloria shrugged.  “Take ‘em along with you and decide at the last minute.”  Brenda was there, also, and she agreed with the strategy.

Darlene didn’t wear her dress all the way to San Antonio, of course.  She had it neatly packed in an overnight bag.  She had a hotel room reserved where she could shower and change.  It was the same hotel where Sweeney was scheduled to give a speech to the Petroleum Society that evening.  Gloria booked the room for her. 

Gloria arranged everything.  She found out when Jim would be out of town and where he would be and if Mrs. Sweeney would be with him.  It was often that Jim’s wife stayed behind.  In their recent, older years Jim was a lot more fun-loving than the Missus.

Gloria told Darlene the story to give Jason in order to be away for a night without him suspecting.  She’d even instructed Darlene where to buy the dress that she’d just shown off—at Chez Pierre, of course.  “It is a killer dress,” Darlene admitted to herself.  “When this is over, Ah’ll wear it for Jason.  He’ll like it.”

“Just remember,” Brenda reminded, “keep him expecting; there’s no need to do more than that.”  Darlene reminded herself of that advice over and over.

As each pecan orchard gave way to the next Darlene shook her head, wondering how everything could all have been brought together with such ease.  It was all going so smoothly.  Even Jason had little objection to her going to San Antonio for the overnight trip.  She told him that she was going with Gloria—that Gloria and Brenda went all the time, but Brenda couldn’t go this time and Gloria didn’t drive on the Interstate.

Probably, Jason thought the trip with Gloria would cheer her up.  Darlene’s embargo on sex was still in effect—in the late afternoon, or any other time.  “Ah made that crystal clear to him.”  There hadn’t been any since the aborted late afternoon tryst, and there would be none until Jason gave up his silly notion of returning to academia.  The last time she’d allowed him to see her—really see all of her—was when she dropped her silk robe at the bathroom door.  She disappeared into the sanctum for the longest time while he lay flaccid on the bed.  He finally gave up and went downstairs.  She was asleep when he came back up, so he had no idea how long she was locked in there.

This little adventure would fix everything.  Sure, it was dangerous.  Jason would certainly not approve if he knew about it.  In the end, there’d be no harm done and everything would be fixed.  Then, she and Jason could have sex again and get back to normal life.

As she passed the turnoff to Seguin she smiled because it was starting to make a lot of sense and she knew she was getting close to her destination.  Her confidence began rising.  “Ah was First Alternate Miss Georgia—and that was not too long ago.”  Whatever she lacked in experience, she made up in natural talent.  Jason always thought a lot of her talent.

In no time, through her own device and of her friends, she arrived.  She handed her keys to the boy at valet parking and went in checked into the hotel.

****************      

Darlene arrived early.  It was that in-between time of day—too early for dinner, too late for almost everything else. She wouldn’t see Sweeney until at least nine that evening.  Her room overlooked the river six floors below.    She thought about taking a stroll around the River Walk.  “Too touristy,” she told herself.  She had enjoyed the endless strip of bistros and cafes when she came with Jason a number of times.  In fact, she would have gone if she had an escort.  Walking alone was not to her taste.  “People might get the wrong idea.”

So, she decided to stay in her room.  She thought about Brenda and Ashley sitting with her mentor, Gloria, at poolside right about that time.  Gloria would be summoning a pitcher of margaritas from Juana.  There was no need for her to miss out.  A little relaxer would be just right after that three-hour drive.  She looked into the room’s service bar—no margarita mix.  She disliked brown spirits and she certainly wasn’t going to drink a beer with a slinky dress to wedge herself into later; and wine didn’t seem to be relaxer enough. 

“Room service, please,” she spoke into the phone.  She waited for someone to pick up the phone.  “Should Ah get something with it?”  she asked herself as she waited.  “No, Ah don’t think so.  Ah’ll just have a margarita.  

A voice came on the line.  “Room 622,” she announced, “would you send me up a margarita raht away?”  She was about to hang up the phone and a sudden thought hit her.  “Wait—wait!” she cried.  The voice on the line hadn’t hung up yet.  “Make that two margaritas,” she corrected.  She set down the phone receiver and congratulated herself on her quick thinking.  “Can’t let the waiter think Ah’m drinkin’ by mahself in mah lonely room.”

Everything was going so well—the arrangements, the story for Jason, the quick thinking on the phone.  She felt like she was playing on a new field—a higher level than usual.  She trembled a little at the challenge, the newness and adventure.  She realized that nervousness and excitement were no different from each other, and that gave her leave to like both of them.  She hadn’t felt the way she did since she glided down the runway at the Miss Georgia pageant when she was just a junior in college.  “Ah’m a long way from l’il ol’ Emory.”  She just barely earned her degree at that school, but the diploma she was about to wrap her hands around would prove a lot more useful.

“The way things are goin’, Ah should have Mr. Jim Sweeney eatin’ outta mahl’il hand in no time.  He’ll give me jus’ what Ah want.”  And, if she asked just the right way, she’d be obligated for little in return, she added as an afterthought.      

She was sitting in an overstuffed chair, contemplating the time on her hands and the best way to enjoy her margaritas.  “A soak in th’ tub!”  She searched inside her overnight bag and pulled out a small bottle of viscous liquid.  She dumped a quantity in the empty bathtub and turned on the hot water.  “Ah’ve got such a naughty idea!”  She kicked off her shoes and began unbuttoning her blouse.  Steam began rising from the water, carrying the scent of the bubble potion throughout the hotel room.  A mountain of suds was forming where the hot water poured into the tub. 

Soon Darlene was nude.  She stood before the full-length mirror mounted just outside the bathroom.  “Not bad—if Ah do say so, mahself,” she cooed out loud.  “An’ Ah certainly do say so.” 

She admired herself, first face-on and then in profile.  She knew perfection when she saw it.  She pivoted once more and swiveled her neck around to take a look at her round and smooth derriere, which she thought of as her best feature of all.  “One last thing.”  She pulled off the hair band, shook her head and her tresses fell free.  She looked in the mirror anew and thought she beheld a wild-child.  The image of her nude body looked back at her from the mirror.  The pampered, nubile wife was absent; a temptress had replaced her.  She liked it. 

“Room service should be here any minute.”   She groped in her luggage again and pulled out the silk robe that she had carefully packed.  It was the same one she’s used to arouse her spouse not many days before.  She unfolded it and felt the fabric caress her as it glided onto her body.  She returned to the mirror.  How to close the robe, yet leave it almost open?  She tied the sash, pulled open the collar, experimented.  She finally got it just how she wanted it.  She stood still near the door because she thought if she moved around she would have to arrange it all over again—and then there might not be time.

“Room Service!” barked a voice outside her door and a sharp knock followed.  Darlene didn’t answer, so that the servant outside wouldn’t know that she was standing just in front of the door.  She put her eye to the peephole.  There, in a hotel uniform stood a young black man with a detached expression holding a tray with two frothy green drinks at his shoulder with one hand and a slip of paper in the other 

“Room Service!” the young man repeated.  Darlene rechecked the positioning of her sash and slowly opened the door. 

“Hi, y’all,” she drawled at the youth.  “Come on in.”

“Room service, ma’am,” he repeated.  “Two margaritas.”  Darlene stayed at the door.   

He slipped past her into the room.  He said nothing, but Darlene watched him glance around, presumably searching for the beneficiary of the second margarita.  His eyes went to the partly-open bathroom door from which scented steam poured out.  Darlene approached him.

“Just set them on the table, if you please.”  Darlene was careful to get closer to him, but not too close and he did what she hoped, which was to fix his gaze onto her lavender silk robe with the painted orchids.  There was enough skin showing to let him know that she was nude underneath, but he couldn’t quite see past the silk to her breasts.  And, while a smooth thigh asserted itself outside the confines of the robe, Darlene made certain that was all he could see—“with his eyes, at least.”   

“Ah just love margaritas,” she drawled slowly at him.  She paused to let him wonder what she might say next.  “Do y’all like them, too?”

“Well, yes ma’am—yes I do,” the young man answered, unable to hide a wide, expectant grin.  He glanced toward the bathroom door and quickly back at her

She looked right at him, with her eyes half-closed.  “They’re so…so relaxin’.”  She closed her eyes and let her tongue linger on her lips for a moment or two.  Ah’d bet you’d like one now.”.

“Uh…yeah…” he started to say, but was distracted by Darlene grabbing the invoice from his hand.  She bent over the coffee table to sign the check.  She let the collar of her robe fall open and she was sure that her target was getting a view at what she wanted him to see. 

She stood back up, revealed breast out of sight again.  “You should try one sometime,” she cooed and handed him the signed guest check.  The optimism vanished from the lad’s face.  He paused a second, as if not believing the invitation which a moment ago seemed so imminent, was only a mirage.

“Did Ah forget somethin’” Darlene asked, with her eyebrows raised.  She drew up the sash tighter, dousing any trace of possibility.  The waiter shook his head.  He glanced to see if she’d given him a tip.  She did and in less than a moment he turned and left the room

“That was good practice.”  She laughed when she thought of the boy and how easy it had been to manipulate the young male.  She set the spare margarita in the service bar refrigerator and the other on a shelf next to the steaming tub.  She slipped off her silk robe and hung it on the knob on the bathroom door and then stepped into the water.  Her hands cupped her breasts as she stood in the clouds of suds.  With her eyes closed she could feel the perfume, not just smell it.  She inhaled again—deeper.  Her nipples stiffened in her hands; she indulged herself in pinching them.  It felt good.  Her hands drifted down to the vee where her thighs joined; she pressed in a little.  That felt good, too.  A finger found its way into the slot.  She was surprised at how moist it had become after her game with the black waiter.  She absorbed a little nudge of pleasure.

“Ah’d wager that young man is off in some hidden place relievin’ himself raht now.”

She smiled.  It was a little bit humorous and satisfying at the same time.  She wiggled the finger inside her again.  “That’s what Jason would do,” she completed the thought, making her laugh out loud.

She suppressed her desires and removed the finger before things got carried too far.  Her legs folded and she sunk into the soothing foam. Her drink was on the shelf behind her.  She retrieved it and took a healthy sip.  The alcohol started to flush her at once; the contrast of the coldness of the drink to the heat of all else awoke the senses.

“Ah still got it.”

*************  

Darlene spent a long time in the tub, rising only to fetch her spare margarita and then promptly returning.  She had fallen asleep for a short time, shortly after polishing off the second drink.  When she woke it wasn’t quite time to get dressed, but the water had grown cold and the bubbles all but disappeared.  She looked down at the soapy film on the water and could feel the same thing on herself, so she decided to take a shower.   

She put her hair up first and sealed it under a shower cap before stepping into the stall.  The cleansing water poured down; her hands cupped her breasts again.  She wanted to see if the earlier feeling was still there.  It wasn’t the same under the water as it had been when she was dry and powdery smooth, but something good was happening and that made her glad.  She let her hand descend further, to the center of pleasure.  That was in working order, too.  She quickly pulled her hand away when the sensation started getting too good.

“Enough of that hanky-panky,” she scolded.  Scolded whom?  Certainly not her, and one couldn’t scold one’s own body part without scolding oneself.  She decided it was an unanswerable question and for an instant was an excuse to let her hands return down there to do what they wanted to do.   As her fingers approached, she drew quickly back.  She was unsure why, but she did so and was certain it was the right thing to do.

After she turned off the shower and dried herself Darlene looked at the River Walk below.  Darkness had nearly descended all the way.  She could stand nude in front of the window.  The lights on the walk looked like stars in the sky.  Stars meant destiny—destiny was demanding, secretive and master.  It always chose its moment.  Darlene felt herself shaking.  At first, she tried to relax, and then realized that she didn’t want to.  She hadn’t felt so since that night on the runway at the pageant.

There was just enough time to get dressed at a pace that she liked.  When she finished, she would look just right.

************* 

When the elevator opened on the first floor it was nine o’clock and Darlene did look just right.  She took a quick survey of the crowded lobby.  There were hotel employees, of course, and many more people who looked beautiful, just like she did.  She fit right into the fashionable scene and she blushed at that. She was glad that she wore her pearls, after all.  With her dress showing so much skin, she told herself to try not to blush.  But blushing, like many things, was involuntary.  She had thought her black cocktail dress risqué.  She observed a large number of dresses filling the scene that were far more daring.  But, all of the women with daring dresses were on the arm of a man.  Darlene stood alone in the lobby and her dress was plenty daring.  Unknown and daring in San Antonio, she felt risqué.

As she strolled about the main floor she finally found what she was seeking.  It was a banquet room full of people and it looked like a formal dinner breaking up.  There was a sign: National Petroleum Institute; Speaker-Mr. James Sweeney, Effect of the Weak US Dollar on Worldwide Petroleum Prices.  Darlene rolled her eyes.  “Doesn’t sound very excitin’.”

She was glad that Gloria hadn’t arranged for her to attend the dinner.  She might have fallen asleep during Jim’s speech instead of in the tub.

She recognized Sweeney from Gloria’s parties.  He stood near the podium chatting and shaking hands.  The crowd was thinning and she went into the banquet room and got at the end of his receiving line.  She thought she saw Jim glance at her as she waited.  Perhaps he did, or maybe she was just hoping so.  As she waited she reviewed what she would ask him.

The receiving line seemed to speed up and soon Darlene stood in front of him.  She extended her hand.  “Hello, Mr. Sweeney, Ah’m…”

“I know who you are,” Sweeney said as he smiled at her and softly took her hand.  “Gloria Warner phoned me and told me to be on the lookout for you.  Did you really drive all the way to San Antonio just to see me?”

“Why no, actually,” Darlene replied, a little bit flustered.  She nervously smoothed her hair.  “Ah just drove down to do some shopping.  When Ah saw your name on the sign Ah just naturally had to say ‘hello’.”

Sweeney listened and gave a skeptical harrumph.  He never lost his friendly face.  “You can call me Jim,” he said.  “And let me say that you are gorgeous in that beautiful dress.”

“Why, Jim,” Darlene blushed and giggled a little.  She didn’t say any more because she knew she didn’t have to. 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Sweeney said.  “Gloria told me that if you found me you might like to speak to me about something concerning your husband.”  He placed his hand in the small of her back.  “There’s a bar over there,” he said, pointing with his other hand.  They walked together to the bar, whose walls were open to the traffic in the lobby.  They found a table and sat down.

“What’ll you have?” Sweeney asked when the waiter came to serve them. 

“A margarita,” Darlene answered.  The waiter wrote it on his pad. 

“Too sweet for me,” Jim declared.  “Make mine bourbon on the rocks.”

Darlene suddenly couldn’t find the right words to say.  After all the thinking and planning during the drive over from Houston, and in the hot bathtub full of bubbles and margaritas, what seemed so obvious became so  elusive.  She felt a chill—probably the air conditioning hitting her in the frothy dress.  Sweeney looked at her.  He was expecting something.

“Mr. Sweeney, mah husbin’…”

“We don’t have to talk about that now, Darlene—may I call you Darlene—we’ll get to it later.  For now, let’s just enjoy our drinks.”

He was such a kind and understanding man, at least in Darlene’s estimation.  He made it so easy for her to be there in such difficult circumstances.  She raised her margarita to her lips.  It was only going to be a small initial sip.  It was, after all, her third one of the day.  But the saltiness mixed with the sweetness and the shaved ice made her take in more than she originally intended.  Margaritas were so relaxing, as she had most accurately informed the young Room Service bellhop that afternoon.  The tequila took the chill away in short order, so she was glad she had taken in more than she originally intended.

There was a stage next to the bar.  A group of Mexican men with beaded costumes and oversized sombreros mounted it carrying guitars.  One had a coronet. 

“Do you like mariachis?” Jim asked.

“Ah don’t rahtly know,” Darlene said.  “We haven’t lived in Texas that long and Jason doesn’t like ethnic places.”

“Shame,” Jim said.  The mariachis started playing, drowning out all else.  They sang in Spanish.  Darlene understood none of it.  She was grateful for the extra time to allow her to compose her story.  The music attracted people from the lobby and soon the bar was full.  “I enjoy the music,” Jim said as the group paused between songs, “but we’ll never get to discuss what you want to talk to me about with all this noise.”  The band started playing again.  Jim leaned closer and placed his hand on Darlene’s bare arm.  “Drink up!” he yelled over the noise.  “I know a place that’s better.”  He lifted his glass of bourbon and tossed down the remainder in one gulp.

Darlene looked into her margarita that she’d barely started.  “C’mon, drink up.  We’re leaving.” Jim cajoled.  She raised the glass to her lips and took a gulp.  She set it down.  It looked like she’d hardly made a dent in it.

“What’re you waiting for, a doggy bag?”  Jim was laughing and handing the waiter a handful of bills.  Darlene closed her eyes and drank the remainder as fast as she could.  She stood up right away, so she could get started before the alcohol took full effect.

Sweeney guided her to the bank of elevators.  As they waited, an elevator door on the far side opened and a bell chimed.  Darlene looked over at it.   

“Can’t use those,” Jim said.  “Hafta’ wait for one of these.”

Darlene was starting to feel the effect of her drink.  To her surprise, it was pleasant—just a warmth that made her feel good.  She expected to be woozy.  She remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything.  Someone had once told her that was a bad idea.

“Maybe the lime juice in the cocktail counts as food,” she speculated to herself.  Anyway, she felt fine and so what was the problem?  While she was figuring that out she realized that she and Jim were riding skyward in an elevator.  

“Whereabouts are we goin’, Jim?”

“I’ve got a suite,” he answered.  “It’s nice and quiet up there and we can have a discussion in private.  Wait’ll you see the view.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed.  “Oh!  Ah didn’t realize we were going to your room.  Ah doubt it would be propah.”  Darlene listened to herself say the words.  They were the right words to say, but they didn’t sound like words that would convince her if she were doing the listening. 

“Oh, it’s not just my room,” he assured her.  “It’s more like a collection of rooms in one.  Most of it is a living room and a kitchenette.”

Darlene felt a little better, and she knew the elevator wouldn’t stop until it arrived at his floor.  Sweeney still wore his leprechaun smile.  He really was a nice man—so gentlemanly.  When the elevator door finally opened there was a security guard sitting at a small desk.  His presence made Darlene feel better, too.  Sweeney showed him an ID and they were quickly inside the suite.

“I think you were drinking margaritas,” he said from the kitchen.  Go ahead and look around while I fix you one.”

What he’d said was true.  The suite had a full living room and kitchen, along with a media area and a large balcony.  There were several closed doors around the perimeter that Darlene took for bath and bedrooms.  There were expansive windows that allowed a view to the hills around the city, but that was meant for the daytime.  In the dark, there wasn’t much to see. 

Sweeney approached Darlene and handed her a new drink.  He had a fresh bourbon of his own.  They touched glasses and took a sip.  Darlene took a seat on a leather couch nearby and crossed her legs.  The black cocktail dress slipped nicely up her thigh.  It showed just the right amount of flesh and Darlene judged it to be a nice looking thigh, made just for that dress.  Jim sat on the couch with her, but not too close.  It was a big couch and they were at opposite ends of it.

”Now tell me what you wanted to speak to me about,” Jim said and leaned toward her to listen.

“Well,” she stammered, “mah husbin’, Jason, has been with Western only a short time.”

“He and Frank Bennett don’t get along and you want me to talk to Frank,” Sweeney volunteered.  Darlene was surprised.  She opened her mouth, but words couldn’t come out.  “Gloria Warner prepped me a little,” he confessed.  “Besides, I’m aware of it every time I go to the office.”

“Why, yes,” Darlene said.

“You know, Darlene, Frank is a good man, but he can very insensitive at times to sensitive people like Jason.  I think I might be able to help you out.”

“Oh, please, Jim,” Darlene blurted out.  “Jason wants to quit and move to a college in Upstate New York.”  She started crying.

Sweeney laughed.  “We can’t let that happen, can we?  Now dry your eyes.  I have a surprise.”    

“Surprise?” Darlene blinked.

“Yes,” Jim said.  “I turned on the hot tub before I went down to give my speech.  I don’t think you noticed it on the balcony.  We can take a soak and finish our drinks out there.”

Darlene had not seen the tub sitting outside the sliding glass doors.  “Oh…no…Ah mean Ah really hadn’t expected that,” she stammered. 

“I said it was a surprise,” Jim said.  He hadn’t moved, nor had he given up that smile.

“Ah have nothin’ to wear,” she countered.  “It truly is a surprise.  Ah brought nothin’ suitable with me.”

Sweeney put his hand on Darlene’s bare shoulder and stroked up and down her arm.  “You won’t need anything to wear, honey.”  Darlene gasped.  She had expected some back and forth banter.  She needed to find a suitable opening to back away from the proposition.  This was all so direct.  “You’ve done such a good job taking care of things,” he told her in a soothing voice.  “You’ve nearly completed the mission.  I have to admire you; you’ve done it all on your own.”  He stroked her arm again.

“Thank you, Jim,” she said, “but I didn’t intend for things…”

“Oh didn’t you?” he asked.  His words were so pointed, but his face was so friendly.

He was still holding her arm.  It wasn’t a tight grip.  She could have easily pulled away.  She couldn’t make herself do it.

“Ah did do it all by mahself.  It’s what Ah had t’ do, an’ Ah’m not sorry.”  She relaxed and let Sweeney continue to hold her arm.  It was starting to feel comfortable.  She reached with her free hand and took a healthy swallow of her margarita.

Sweeney released her arm.  “You’re shy,” he said.  “I’ll get you a robe to cover yourself until we get in the water.”  He stood up from the couch and disappeared through one of the closed doors.      

Sweeney returned in about a minute carrying a terrycloth robe.  Darlene stood in the middle of the living room waiting for him.  She left her empty glass behind on the coffee table.

“Ah’m not shy,” Darlene declared.  She lifted her black cocktail dress over her head.  While he was fetching the robe she’d removed her hose and panties.  She was nude, except for the pearls and her earrings.  She stood still in the middle of the room for him to see her. 

“Very nice,” Sweeney drawled, as he might say if admiring a work of art, or a prize bull, or a gushing oil well.  He tossed the unneeded robe on the couch.  Darlene performed a slow pirouette.  “Darlene, honey, I think we’re gonna turn out to be the best of friends.”  She stepped close to him and kissed him.  It was a physical kiss.  She stroked his lips with her tongue as it ended.  “Why don’t you get in the tub?” he said.  “I’ll be right along after you.”

“Why don’t you take your clothes off and we’ll go together?” she asked. “Don’t tell me that you’re the shy one.”

“Not by a long shot, honey.”  He was already unbuttoning his shirt.  He threw his clothes on the couch with Darlene’s robe.  Soon they were both nude.  “I’m ready if you are,” he said.  He reached out and cupped her breast.  To her surprise, he was gentle and well-practiced.  He rubbed his thumb over the nipple.  Darlene liked that. 

“Ah think it would be nicer to go in the hot tub aftah-ward,” Darlene said.

Jim released her breast.  “Follow me.”  He led her to one of the closed doors.

“A really think Ah can do it.  Ah’m gonna do it.  Ah wouldna’ believed it, but Ah’m really gonna do it.” 

He turned toward one of the closed doors and she fell in step behind him.  She found herself thinking of Gloria as she walked the few steps.  He opened the door; she beheld a king sized bed with the covers turned down; she looked down at it.  “Ah’m gonna do it.”  She scarcely believed it, but it was real.

************* 

Darlene took her place on the bed without hesitation.  Jim offered his hand and she took it for support so she could ease down in the center in a graceful manner.  One might not have thought the pretentious descent so important at a moment when so much else was happening; it was part of the package.

The clean sheets felt cold on her bare back.  She looked up and saw Jim standing alongside the bed, looking at her and smiling.  She took a quick look at his chest full of hair, the rotund belly, his erection just below.  He was so different from Jason; she didn’t mind.  In fact, she looked forward to the difference. 

She fought off her urge to roll up into a demure cocoon.  “Ah’ve come this far—why hide?”  She relaxed with her arms to her side, her knees bent so her feet were flat on the sheets and her thighs spread open just a little.  She didn’t avert her eyes, but looked straight back into his.  She began to like the feeling of him looking at her.  His expression told her that he liked what he saw.

“Why shouldn’t he?”  There was nothing not to like, after all.  She’d confirmed it in the mirror in her room that afternoon. 

It was all hers to give or withhold; it was at her sole discretion.  It could be given freely or in mercenary fashion.  It was for her to decide.  She felt high.  She assumed it was the tequila finally having its way with her.  Perhaps it was—she didn’t care.

She let him look all he wanted.  There was a new feeling—one that she liked—that came upon her.  She felt the power to use her body to please and to take control.  She was about to get for herself that which she wanted—no, what she needed.  She was taking, not asking; value given for value received.  It was the value of her—determined by her, not Jason.  As she came to realize it she became glad that things were turning out as they were.

“Really nice, Darlene,” Jim said in a low voice.  She was confident that he meant it.  She raised her arms and reached out to bid him welcome.  He took her hands in his and mounted the bed.

She expected him to climb between her legs and begin.  She would have let him.  Instead, he positioned himself alongside her.  His hands smoothed and caressed all over her body.  They glided over her legs and inside her thighs; across her taught belly and over her breasts.  As his palm passed over them the nipples erected a little bit harder and that felt rather nice.  Jim’s body was certainly different from Jason’s, and his technique was different, too.

“You’re beautiful, Darlene,” she heard him say.  It made her flush.  He didn’t have to say that, but she was glad that he did.  “I want to make you feel good,” he whispered in her ear.  He reached down and tenderly drew her labia apart.

“That would be alraht, but it can’t be allowed to go too far.” she warned herself/.

He inserted his finger there, and she did feel some pleasure.  He knew just where her magic bud was, and he was so careful not to rub it too hard, like men sometimes do.  He found just the right pressure and rhythm.  Darlene relaxed and let him keep it up.  It was rather nice.  She felt his erection pressing against her thigh.  She wrapped her fingers around it and heard him moan. 

It was hard to bring such a nice thing to a close, but she wanted to maintain some reserve.  This was sex, not love-making, after all.  “Ah’m ready,” she whispered.  He didn’t say anything.  He withdrew his finger from her and started to lift himself from his lying position.  She let go of his penis.  She spread her thighs wide; he climbed in between them.  He knelt between her legs, taking a final look before descending down to her.  “Lookin’ at me like Ah’m the Mona Lisa.”   

He put a hand at either side of her shoulders to support his own weight.  “Very thoughtful; Ah’ll have to teach that to Jason.”  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He lowered himself; she felt him probing for her opening. 

“Should Ah kiss him first?”

He didn’t seem eager for a kiss, so she let it go.  He kept probing, so she slipped a hand down to help guide him.  She felt him at her gate.  “Ah cain’t believe Ah jus’ put him inside me.”  It was really happening.  It was all so fast and so easy.  What surprised her most was that she liked the doing of it, all on her own.  He was a powerful businessman, but she’d captured him inside her at that moment; she controlled him.

She felt him press forward and he sank into her.  She was very moist.  He slid through her easier than had been her drive down I-10 that afternoon.  When he was in all the way he let out all his breath.  He quickly drew in another.  “Darlene, that feels so good.”

“Why of course it does, Jim-dear.  Ah’m the best y’all evah had,” she replied in silence.

In the back of her mind she knew that she had no idea how many he’d ever had—probably scores and all very good.  At the moment, the doubt didn’t bother her. 

He stayed buried deep inside her, in no hurry to get on with the act.  “He truly is so very thoughtful.  An older man must know these things.”  It was such a nice, full, cozy, wonderful feeling to have him buried in there; sensing his enjoyment of the feeling too.  It was a shame that this wasn’t more than quid pro quo.  It could be quite nice.

At long last he began to slide himself backward.  “May as well get this ovah with.”  As he began his thrust to rebury himself within her—as she well knew he would—she flexed her pelvis and rose to meet him.  It would help him come faster.  She heard him utter a sound of pleasure.  Her ploy was working.

He slid partway out again and she pressed back up in rhythm with him once again.  “Oh mah goodness!” The movement had caused a peculiar part of her to be stroked and it brought her so much pleasure.  She wanted it again.  She pressed up once more at the proper moment in search of it—and there it was again.  “That was truly wonderful!”

She had a ways to go before things would get too far along, and she’d never climaxed without the help of her anal aid—which she’d definitely not brought along.  So, she felt safe enough in opening her thighs even wider and curling her heels around the back of Jim’s knees.  She thought it would give her leverage to thrust up with even more force and deepen the pleasure.  She was correct.

She felt her climax approaching.  It was the one thing that she’d resolved to hold back, but it came rushing onward like an express train on a single track that ran through her body.  She gave up trying to stave it off.  She used the man atop and inside her to open a way for it, to give herself the ultimate.  It was her extra reward for a job well-done.  She pressed up as hard as she could, matching his timing.  She barely heard herself screaming.  Suddenly the climax was on her.  An initial spasm, and then one wave of pleasure and then another.  She relinquished control; it was hers to give up and she surrendered.  She ceased pumping and allowed the orgasm to absorb her.  It was good; she deserved it.

Jim kept on thrusting for about a half minute.  From the haze of her afterglow she more or less sensed him coming inside her.  She heard him groan but never felt him discharge.  That was his affair.  She would clean herself later.  For the moment all she wanted was to try to remember everything, so she could live though it over again—at least in her mind. 

“Ah really did it,” she thought as he slipped out of her and rolled aside. 

*****************               

TO BE CONTINUED