My pussy got wet as I gazed into his eyes. “If you keep staring at me like that, I might take you up on your offer.”
“I wouldn’t mind. Not one bit.”
We sat there, eyeing each other down for a lingering moment and then Yardley grinned and said, “I thought that we could go hear some jazz music after dinner but if you’d prefer, we can head straight for the destination I had planned after that.”
“And what destination might that be?” I asked, hoping he meant his place. I was ready to give myself to him, even though I feared he might get the wrong impression of me after meeting Momma.
“Actually, I got us a suite at the O Street Mansion.”
“Really?” I was so excited. I had toured the place once and it was off the chain.
“Yes, really. If that’s cool with you.”
He seemed kind of nervous. We both knew he was basically asking me to fuck him.
The O Street Mansion was ultraprivate, offering guests a variety of unique rooms and suites. They had everything from insomniac suites and suites for people who love television with as many as eight televisions to suites full of antiques and a two-level log cabin suite. The Mansion was designed in 1892 to be inhabited by three brothers with the last name of Clark. In the 1930s, it was converted into three separate rooming houses for FBI G-men.
Ironically, on Valentine’s Day in 1980 a new owner purchased it and converted it into a hundred-room mansion by reconnecting the three and making it one of the most unique and intimate environments in the world, full of secret doors and numerous fire-places.
Yardley had reserved the Art Deco Penthouse Suite, no doubt the most expensive suite in the place. It was fantastic. It had a private elevator and kitchen, two stereo systems and a secluded outdoor balcony.
Yardley put on the Kem Kemistry CD, one of my all-time favorites, and followed me outside on the balcony, where I was admiring the courtyard below.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asked me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“No, I’m not cold,” I replied, “but I have this pain.”
He released me and turned me around to face him. “What kind of pain?”
I pouted. “It’s really starting to irritate me. It aches all the time.”
He grinned at me, obviously onto my game. “Oh, you poor baby. Where does it hurt?”
“You promise not to l
augh?”
His grin widened as I continued to pout like I was in serious agony. “I promise. Let the doctor fix you up.”
“Let’s go inside so I can show you.” I took him by the hand and led him back into the living room area of the suite. Then I got on the sofa on my knees, reached behind me and pointed to the base of my spine. “Okay. It always starts here, in my lower back.”
Yardley climbed on the sofa beside me and started pressing into my spine with his thumb. “Right here?”
“Yes, and then it moves down lower.”
He lowered his hand to the top of my ass and then started rubbing it. “Right here?”
“No, lower,” I said teasingly, slowly hiking up the back of my dress, allowing him to see my black lace thongs.
He let out a deep sigh and I could feel his breath on my ear as he moved his head closer to me, whispered in my ear, rubbed the middle of my ass and asked, “Right here?”
“No, still lower.” He took the hint and let his fingers explore between my legs. He started rubbing my clit through my thongs and I moaned. “Um, yeah, that’s it.”
He kept rubbing and whispered, “Hmm, well, I think I can remedy that.”
“Really?”
“Indeed. You know chiropractors specialize in taking aches away.”