Call for Love

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Roughly translated from the Spanish, according to a U.S. intelligence official who is a former student of mine, the headline from his hometown paper said, "When Rudolfo scores, the country wins!"

A few times, my former student admitted, she might have come close when she was stationed in that torn country to being picked by him. And, she also admitted, the evening in the club, as eager women circled around him, hoping to catch her eye, had caught her up in an unprofessional and horny mood.

Now, on the monitor in front of us, Rudolfo had picked the most beautiful woman in Room 301 to be his lover. Jane and Bryan and I each had reacted in alarm at first, thinking that some sort of rape was occurring. Instead, we found ourselves drawn into a sensual scene that unfolded as the fit and trim Rudolfo tenderly kissed Lindie, and with the most graceful movements, began to caress her. When she leaned back to allow his fingers access to her blouse buttons, we saw a triumphant smile on her face-- perhaps the same sort of smile that his belle de noche (I guess that's the phrase) would have back home.

She winked at our hidden camera, and maneuvered Rudolfo so that he blocked our view of her uncovered breasts. We would not have seen much of them anyway, as Rudolfo was now all over them.

Bryan was torn, desperately struggling with the controls, and at the same time wanting to watch. Jane laughed out loud.

"That Lindie! I didn't know she had it in her to do that. She's hijacked our man." She looked at Brian with amusement.

"Let it go, Brian," she ordered. "If you want to watch, that was Lindie's choice, wasn't it? The picture did not go down."

It had not occurred to me that way, but what Jane said was true. Lindie must have interfered with the sound, but she knew that we were watching.

Brian leaned back in his chair, trying not to keep messing with the equipment. He squirmed uncomfortably as we watched Lindie being transformed by the Latino lover's touch. She was not an ugly duckling, just thin, plain and awkward, but that was all forgotten now.

I remembered from my university days how beautifully some women unfolded with a little tenderness and intimacy. We saw that now, as in a sense, our subject put Lindie into a sort of sexual trance, cuddling with her -- the two of them topless -- kissing appreciatively, approaching her eager tender places like they were almost sacred.

She no longer indulged in winks at the camera. Her eyes were focused on Rudolfo's as he stepped away in a kind of tango move, but just far enough to be able to smoothly unzip her jeans. His hand moved perfectly inside - not grabbing, just bringing Lindie the touch that she now yearned for. She closed her eyes in bliss as his experienced fingers stroked through her panties.

"Excuse me! I'll be back in a few minutes!" Brian rushed from the room, the bulge in his pants showing conspicuously. We heard the bathroom door down the hall open and slam shut.

Jane laughed... at first kind of in mock bitterness.

"Well, this experiment is shot to hell, I guess." Then she grinned and moved toward me.

"Can you just keep watching this?" she laughed.

"Not with you within arm's reach. I'm remembering that time at the Chicago conference." We could both visualize ourselves, twenty years younger, and before the security mania, having snuck onto the rooftop at our hotel for a mad round of lovemaking.

On the screen, the penis that had launched a thousand hips into frenzied motion was unfettered now and rising to meet Lindie's need. She was truly beautiful, I thought. She led Rudolfo to the big sofa, walking with power in her loins. She glowed in a way that the monitor could barely reproduce, her small breasts seeming much larger now, stretching out artistically as she reclined. She watched with tongue pressed to her lips as her lover rolled a condom over the most sought-after cock in Central America.

He was kneeling to kiss her, when Jane leaned over to switch the monitor off. The last picture we saw showed Lindie triumphantly grinning at the camera as she stretched out to receive Rodolfo.

"I need something from you," Jane breathlessly asserted, running her hand down my zipper.

"But what about your experiment?" I teased. I could feel her warmth pressing close to me. It was hard to avoid remembering the way she had touched me with her enthusiastic response to my paper on "Retro ESP Seduction Techniques in the Baroque Era."

"Fuck the experiment!"

And that's what we did.

*

This was not the end of Jane Hardway's project -- just a temporary setback. As you walk down your city's streets, just take a close look at that beauty on the cellphone in the BMW. Does she look like she has to get somewhere in a hurry? Do you like the purposeful stride of that young executive silently listening to some message on his headset phone?

Is it your phone ringing now...?

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