A Coming Of Angels

In a cramped booth in the rear of an adult bookstore, Marísa introduced Chaz to the world of porn videos. Almost by accident, she stumbled overanotherof Chaz's 'buttons'; he wasinsanelyturned on byreally big-boobed women!She couldn't believe her good luck. It was all falling into place. She revealed her intentions to become a star in the genre, that she was going to get a boob job and become the most desirable, mega-busted, fuckable slut toever do porn - andhewas going to make that future a reality. What followed in that cramped video boothcouldhave put Chaz behind bars on a charge of aggravated rape – if the tempting trollop had been so inclined. As it was, she was much too satisfied to consider it.

Marísa sensed the need in him, his growing dependency on her to give him what he craved. Marisa thrived on the sense of power it gave her. What frightened her most was her growing needfor him.He was everything she had ever wanted, needed, desired in a man. When the others had left, she had gotten over them quickly. But Chaz, too, might still leave.

They had been together less than one month. He had let slip he was taking that amount of time off from everything and everyone in his life and that, happily, he had been able to devote it toher.She had felt a chill in the pit of her stomach then. What – who - was he going back to at the end of the month?

In spite of everything they had done, said, and meant to each other, there was still that lingering doubt she was not good enough to keep him. If he did leave her, she felt she would be devastated. She would have her boobs and new career, but they would be little comfort for her loss. She was determined she would havehim as well, whatever, whoever awaited his return.

Month's end was four days away. Chaz invited Marísa home - tohishome - that night. He had told her he had something very important to say. The lovelyLatinawas stunned - and afraid. She still did not even know his last name. Yes, she wanted desperately to see for herself how this man lived, to see whatcould beor, at least,what could have been.

Home meantfamilia. Although he had not specifically mentioned one, how could such a warm, sweet, funny, intelligent, thoughtful, magnificent human being not haveuna esposa? Was he taking her home to meet this woman, to show her why they could not be together? The thought of meeting this phantom, thisotra mujer,was frightening. And what about her? Was she so accommodating that she thought nothing of meeting her husband's mistress? Or was she that confident?She shouldn't be,the youngLatina resolved.I am going to make himmine.

As she prepared for this special night, fearing it might be their last, Marisa determined to make it their best yet. On her way to the salon where Lola worked, the teen tart mulled over many different "looks" she could adopt for her lover, something vivid by which he would remember her and this special time in both their lives. Lola's admonishment kept echoing in her head:Just be yourself.In the end, she decided to do exactly that. If thiswas to be their last time together, then it would end as it had begun....

She had called him that afternoon at the private number he had given her weeks before. He wasn't there; nor, thankfully, was anyone else. She didn't think she could have dealt with that discovery without hearing it directly from him – maybe not even then. She told him what time to pick her up, and that this evening, she would rock his world forall time.

She hung up without saying another word; she didn't dare. If she had kept talking, her resolve might have cracked. Then she would have started saying what wasreallyon her mind - and ruined the tenor of the evening. She didn't want that to happen for any reason.

Summer was a fading memory. The days were noticeably shorter and nightfall came quicker. It was already dark when Chaz pulled into the motel parking lot. He was concerned to see all the lights off; it didn't look like Marísa was home. He knew she wasn't dancing that night. She had specifically told him she was taking the night off to devote to him.

A wave of panic engulfed him. He had feared this moment; expecting to find the most exciting woman he had ever known had vanished without a trace. He exited the car and hurried to the door. A self-adhering note was stuck to the door. Her familiar script was just legible in the glow of the exterior lighting.

Come pick me up, mi amor. You know the place.

A smile touched his lips. He most certainly did.

She was there, on the corner. This time, there was not the slightest doubt in Chaz's mind about picking up the dazzling red-headed hooker. Even so, he almost totaled the Porsche angling in to pull up beside her, so distracted was he. She had been born to wear leather; of that there was no doubt.

He had seen the dress only once before. Then, he had been helplessly handcuffed to a chair in her closet, watching another man take his place – and his lover. The low-cut bustier front and back served to enhance her curves rather than conceal them. The hem was so brief, he could see the tops of her jet-black seamed stockings, the garter tabs holding them up, as well as a flash of creamy thigh. The whole affair wasso tight, he could imagine thecreakof the taut calfskin as it stretched to mold her curvaceous torso.

She was perched elegantly on matching black calfskin pumps with wide, buckling ankle straps and pencil-thin stiletto heels. He didn't know how any woman could glide so effortlessly in those six-inch spikes, but she made it look like the most natural thing in the world. Her hair, makeup, long, square-cut fingernails, and gold jewelry all perfectly complemented her outrageously-overdone 'fashion statement'. His cock was so hard inside its tailored cloth prison, it ached.

She strutted confidently to the passenger window. Theclick-click-click of her stiletto heels beat a staccato rhythm on the sidewalk. She placed both elegantly-manicured hands on the sill and leaned over, flashing her cleavage. Her practiced come-on was all jiggly tits and breathy, whispered desire, so full of urgency (which hadneverbeen more true). Her accent was so thick, it could be cut with a knife – just the way he liked it. The unmistakable scent ofShalimarwafted about her like a seductive veil.

The arrangements were quickly made. Money was almost an afterthought – by careful design. She slipped the proffered $1000 into her cleavage with practiced tease, slid into the supple leather passenger seat, and closed the precision-engineered door with an effortlessclick.

"You pick the place,Mi Amor. Someplace... private."

The Porsche pulled out into traffic and was gone. The fabulous Redhead already had her lover's cock out of its cloth prison and was conditioning it with her talented tongue and lips for the night ahead.

For all her feigned bravado, Marísa was apprehensive as they drove west on Sunset, leaving the hustle and bustle of Hollywood behind them. She had thought he lived in West L.A., perhaps Brentwood, but this was not the most direct route. With each passing minute, the scenery was getting plusher, the homes larger, and the knot in her stomach tighter. When he branched off Sunset and made his way to Loma Vista Drive, Marísa felt she had been teleported to another planet. How did theNorteños put it?Beam me up, Scottie.The neighborhood left her stunned. The first glimpse of the house itself, with its expansive grounds, swimming pool, stable-sized garage and guesthouse, all enclosed within an eight-foot-high brick wall, took her breath away.

Steeling herself for what was to come, the ravishing Redhead waited for Chaz to open her door, then accepted his hand to help her to her feet. She had taken that hand and wrapped his arm around her, placing the hand on her leather-clad tush. She then strutted elegantly across the driveway, and up the steps to the massive double doors, allowing her transfixed boytoy to feel her tush rhythmically sway to and fro as she moved.Herhand was on his manhood, which she had forbidden him to tuck back into his slacks. He was fully, gloriously exposed, which was exactly the way she wanted him to be when they walked through the door to face - whatever.

Her steely resolve abandoned her as the doors opened. She stepped onto the marble-floored foyer and gasped at the other-worldly milieu within. She explored each room with child-like awe, leading her lover by his cock, absent-mindedly stroking it as they went to maintain its massive erection. They passed from the foyer to the expansive salon, stately dining room, restaurant-sized kitchen, den, and indoor atriumwith fountain.Then it was back to the foyer and up the sweeping formal staircase to the second floor.

The sight of the massive master bedroom with its cavernous walk-in closets and private balcony overlooking the expansive grounds brought tears to her eyes; it was larger than theentire house she had lived in as a child in that nameless village inOaxaca. The attached bathroom, with its gold-fixtured, sunken whirlpool tub, marble shower stall and vanities, was larger than the motel room she currently called home. There were four other bedrooms, little smaller than the first. Each had its own full bathroom. There was yet another staircase, leading to athird floor ballroom.Marísa had tears in her eyes. Even her dream's wildest, delusional variant had never been like this.

And all of it was empty;opulently furnished from floor to ceiling, to be sure, butnot a single soul other than them.They stood once more in the marble-floored foyer. The teen temptress turned to hernovioquestioningly."¿Tu espósa no está...aquí?"she asked, hesitantly. He looked at her uncomprehendingly, as if she had just asked him to hand her the piano. The vixen was about to repeat the question in English when her stunned suitor found his tongue.

"My wife? You thought I wasmarried? Maybe to my job,but.... My Love, this home has been in my family for over a century but I live here alone. No woman in her right mind would want to get involved with me; at least, no woman who planned to stay.I was afraid to tell you how much time I usually work, for fear of scaringyou off. I took a month off to regain my sanity. Instead, I have lost it completely, totally, irrevocably – and have never been happier. I have never met a woman I would evenconsider marrying – until now."

The roaring in Marísa's ears must have been the blood leaving her head; she felt suddenly faint. Before he could say anything more, she sprang into his arms, wrapping her stocking-clad legs around his powerful torso. With a sigh, she impaled her pantiless snatch on his exposed, rock-hard dong. She doubted they would get much sleep that night, a doubt which proved justified.

A torrid, all-night sexual romp ended as the first rays of dawn filtered through the French doors opening onto the balcony. They made small talk for an hour, still too 'wired' to sleep. This strange pair - the rich, outwardly-respectableAngloand the exquisite red-headedputa– revealed secrets to each other even deeper and more personal than the wayward relationship they shared.

She spoke of her humble beginnings, with poverty and despair her constant companions. She spoke, too, of her "escape" to Mexico City where she had been had by any man who would pay her price. Even more perverse, she told how much sheenjoyed it. In spite of their 'games', she expected Chaz to be turned off by her revelations of sex with so many other men. He kissed her tenderly and replied she should know him better than that by now, that he found her sexual escapades incredibly erotic.

Marísa languidly stroked her lover's manhood as he spoke of the loss of his parents, his failed romantic trysts, both amateur and professional (she likened the word to her owntriste– sad – and decided it was an apt comparison), the emptiness of his life, and reiterated that he had never met a woman who truly understood his needs, much less fulfilled them – until her. He had been desperately afraid that it would all end in the blink of an eye; that he would seek her out one day, either at the club or her motel, and she would be gone – vanished into thin air like some exquisite dream, without even saying good-bye. He recounted how he had panicked the previous evening when he perceivedexactlythat scenario playing out. She kissed him passionately and countered thathehad misjudgedher.

Chaz insisted on making breakfast for them. He bade her to stay and make herself comfortable, that he would return with a tray. After he left, she donned the shirt she had practically ripped from his well-muscled body the night before. It still smelled of expensive cologne and his masculine musk, a combination that made her want him again.

She settled into the king-sized bed and clicked on the television. Remote control was still a new and wondrous thing to her. She gleefully channel-surfed like a child with a new toy. The local morning show was doing a puff piece on the "Angel Flight" missions to provide free medical care to Central American children who had been in the wrong war at the wrong time. For all her tough, street-smart demeanor, Marisa wept for those tormented bodies and souls."Damn Samoza,"she thought,"that butcher will kill an entire generation of children if he is not stopped."

She was astonished to see Chaz,her Chaz, dressed in surgical scrubs and being interviewed about thepro bonosurgery he was about to perform on a twelve-year-old girl to restore her face. So he wasun doctór,a successfulnorteñosurgeon, who donated his time and skills to helplos perditos.At that moment, Marísa Nacimiénto Duarte y Aragón knew beyond all doubt she loved the magnificentAnglowith all her heart.

"¡Dios mio!"

The words had slipped from her lips without her being aware of them. A caption had flashed at the bottom of the screen, identifying the interviewee as "Dr. Charles Bradford, Plastic Surgeon". Marísa was in a total state of shock. Sothatwas his last name. "Dr. Charles Bradford," she murmured with disbelief. "Dr. CharlesTaylorBradford." She knewthat name by heart. He wasthemost sought-after surgeon in America for beautiful, aesthetically-perfect boob jobs - and her personal first-choice.Firstchoice? He was heronlychoice! The prize of a lifetime had been eating out of the palm of her hand – as well as other parts of her anatomy – fora month and she hadn't realized the enormity of her great good fortune!!!

At that exact moment, her good fortune reappeared with a tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice. Chaz eased onto the bed, placing the tray next to her. A single red rose in a small, cut-glass vase adorned the tray. Next to the vase was a tiny gold box. The upturned lid's white satin lining featured the name "Harry Winston" in gold script. Inside the box was a blue-white solitaire, two carats' worth, set in an elaborate platinum band.

Marisa simply stared, dumbfounded, at the ring, her mouth agape.

"We will have to get going soon, My Love," Chaz intoned. "City Hall opens at nine. We can pick up the marriage license on the way to Santa Monica airport. I chartered a Lear to fly us to Puerto Vallarta. It's all set. We will be married at sunset, right on the beach."

She nodded dumbly, trying to comprehend the import of his words. The stunned seductress then picked up the tiny box with one hand, put the palm of the other against the edge of the tray and slowly, deliberately pushed. It went over the edge and fell to the floor with a thunderous crash. She turned to her husband-to-be, thrust her luscious body against his and crushed his lips with her own. The last thing on her mind at that moment was breakfast.