Oh, Those Boots! Ch. 03

There no point in trying to go back to sleep. "8:00 or so. Gotta leave not later than 7:00. Gotta get my stuff together, get out there and set up," I said.

"Set up what? What does a writer set up?"

A writer? How the hell would I know? Oh yeah.

"Out where?" she answered. "Doing what? What does a writer do in the field early in the morning? What do you do? Watch elk and cougars and bears get it on? And then write about it? You're a pervert!"

It was my turn to snort and laugh. "Writing's an avocation, m'dear, not my living," I finally answered. Elk and cougars and bears! Oh my! The Wizard of Oz? Not.

"Then where do you get your stuff?"

"What stuff?"

"Your writing, Buck-boy boy toy."

Boy toy again. Buck-boy. You're gonna get it and get it good, Jacqueline. "I make it up," I answered after a time. Gazing into her masked eyes and feeling her luscious tits against my chest, I wanted to fuck her again. And hard. Really hard. I held her closer and kissed her again. I didn't want to talk about writing. I wanted to fuck her. She owed me an orgasm to make up for the one she'd just stoppered. Maybe two orgasms: one across her mask, and the other deep in her pussy. Or maybe in her ass. Deep in her ass.

I gripped her ass with both hands and parted it, finding her pussy with one finger. I entered her, but she backed away. "Mmm... feels good. Excellent idea. But not now. We have to get up now, don't we?" She paused for a moment. "So you make it up. Interesting. There's got to be something that gives you muse. What is it?"

"Or where is it. How about between your legs? Or between your breasts? Or your lips? Or those fantastic legs, and your boots. How about your gloves, or this mask of yours?"

"The erotic muse, in other words."

"Among other things. Yes."

"Meaning...?"

"Meaning a pretty woman will turn my head. She'll start me down the road to fantasy. I begin to imagine a scene. How would it be? I wonder. And so on."

"Hmm..." she answered. "And other people's writing?"

"What about it?"

"How does that grab you? Does it turn you on, so to speak?"

"It depends. I enjoy reading it, if it's well done. But I seldom 'get off' on it."

"Maybe you should try it. Lots of women get all wound up with stories, like romances for instance, and can't help but masturbate at least once before they're through with the book. But you write other stuff, you say?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck! Answer my damn question!"

"What question?" I enjoyed the torment I was inflicting on her.

"About what else you write! Do you have a problem answering questions?"

"Seems I've heard that earlier. And I actually do owe you an answer. Questions may be asked and answered later. On both our parts. Is that all right?"

"Dammit! I guess it'll have to be."

"Good. How about an entirely different question?"

"Shoot."

"Still want to move in for these next few weeks?"

"I do, yes. My company will be happy -- I won't claim anywhere near my usual in lodging -- and we'll keep ourselves amused in our spare time." The wind rattled the window. "And warm, too."

"Indeed. Let's get up, get dressed, and get you checked out from across the street."

"A shower, a good breakfast, and a hot cup of coffee or two would be good, too."

"So it would. Shower together?"

"Now? Sure." She started undressing and as before, laid her clothes out neatly on the sofa. She headed to the bathroom. "What the hell is this? Get your ass in here! You've got some explaining to do!"

Probably the hickies, I thought. I laughed as I stripped off my boxers and t-shirt and went into the bathroom. Sure enough, there she was examining her neck in the mirror.

"I've got some important meetings today! Fucking Panty Shredder!"

"Hmm... yeah, I think I see a problem. On the other hand, I may have a solution. Get in the shower. Nice hot water. I'm cold."

She was still stewing, and I was laughing silently. I did indeed have a solution for her, but it wasn't here. I stepped into the shower behind her.

"Dammit... I can't believe you did that." She didn't sound as irritated as she did before. She started soaping herself up and wetting down her hair.

I came in close behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. "I think you worry too much." I moved one hand up to push her hair up at the back of her neck. I began sucking again.

"You're a fucking vampire, you know that? A fucking panty-shredding vampire." She didn't move away.

"You like it, though," I said between kisses. "This one won't show."

"N-no... it won't... oh please keep going..." Her voice trailed off. She dropped the soap and moved one slippery hand to her breasts and the other to her pussy.

My cock was hard again and I sought my target. "Get the soap, will you?"

"Oh yes..." she answered. "Is what I think about to happen, going to happen?"

"It is, because you dropped the soap. Beware dropping the soap in the shower if you're not alone."

"N-nice... oyich...," was all she said as I penetrated her.

* * *

We were shortly back in her room across the street, getting her stuff packed so she could check out. I made a cursory inspection of one of her suitcases, and sure enough, there it was. I thought I'd seen it the night before during our brief trip over here, and I was right. I took the black silk scarf -- it was nice and long -- and held it up.

"And your point is? I need fresh stockings and new panties, not a scarf."

"It's a hickie cure. I'll show you."

She was wearing the same thing she had on the night before, right down to the gloves.

I flipped the scarf over itself to make a couple of very loose folds and placed it around her neck. She immediately got the idea and turned to the mirror.

"Nice. Don't know why I didn't think of it." She loosely wrapped it once around her neck, effectively hiding the hickies. She pulled her coat collar up around her neck. "Is this sort of what you had in mind?"

"It's precisely what I had in mind., Ms. Jacqueline. That looks very classy."

"I can't take it off; your damned hickies will show!"

"They're yours. They're on your neck. Not mine."

"Oh, screw you." She was silent for a while, turning this way and that in front of the mirror. "You know what? I think this will work."

"I do, too. Do you take your jacket off for your meetings and presentations?"

"Sometimes. But in general, no. You wouldn't give a presentation in shirt sleeves, would you?" She was still considering the scarf idea.

"You're right. And of course, it's very cold out. This will keep you warm," I said. I moved behind her and brought the broad triangle of material up over her face, over her nose and mouth. "And this, right here, will keep me hot."

We looked at each other in the mirror.

"I love it," she said, and turned to kiss me. Through the scarf. Pretty soon we were all over each other again.

"Dammit," she said. "Now there's a wet spot on it!"

"So there is. Pull it down and to the side. It'll be fine." I looked at my watch. "Breakfast time," I said.

"Makeup time," she answered. "Gimme five minutes."

* * *

Breakfast time was back at my hotel after she checked out of hers.

"You never told me something," she said after we sat down.

"Which is?"

"About what else you write."

"Oh, for crying out loud. I write boring stuff. Technical stuff. Training stuff."

"Then maybe I should ask what you really do for a living, and why you're here, picking up strange, unknown women in anonymous bars and fucking them rotten."

I laughed at the movie reference. "I guess that's fair," I said. "And honestly, I think you're the first woman I've ever picked up in a bar. Not the greatest place to go for that sort of thing, you know."

"It's not, even though I dressed up and went out with that intent. To be fucked rotten. But I was very, very selective. I could have taken anyone, as I think you might have noticed. I could just as easily turned them all down -- including you -- and gone back to my hotel room and masturbated myself to a frenzy. However, I'm glad you were there, among all the Neanderthals, as you so accurately put it. And once again, you've side-stepped my question."

"I have. In a word, I teach."

"All right, Panty Shredding Teacher. What do you teach? I rather doubt it's the fine skill and art of shredding women's undergarments. And at least it was my panties and not my bra. Bras are expensive."

"You're right. Besides, bras are too sexy to shred. I do have another trick involving them, though. Bras are teasing. They hold boobs. I like the way the way the cups feel on the back of my hand when I reach inside to feel and squeeze and gently fondle. I love to move the cup aside and kiss and suck. If I were a woman, I'd be looking down my shirt all the time and saying to myself: 'Excellent! I like boobs!' As for panties, they can get in the way. However, they're most definitely sexy when they're pretty and snug and cover and caress a hot bottom. Like yours."

"Get back on track. You're making me hot again. Anyway, lots of people teach. I teach physicians about new medications on the market, among other things. So what do you teach?"

I gave it some quick thought and decided to go out on a limb. "Take downs. Choke holds. Weapon retention. General ass-kickery."

Her eyes opened wide. "You're a cop?"

"No. But sometimes there are cops in my courses."

"Really."

"Yah, really." I went through some of the course content in my mind. How'd it be if, what would she think if, would she like it? Would she like to participate, either publicly, or private lessons, or experience some of it? I wondered. How about other ideas that were coming to mind?

"Interesting," she said after a while. "I want to know more."

"Do you," I said. "You might be surprised."

"I like surprises."

"Me too. I still have to go upstairs and get my gear. But it's your turn now. Tell me something."

"Yes?"

"Where'd the eye-mask come from? I doubt it's something you carry in your pocket or in your purse."

She smiled and her eyes narrowed. "It's not, although I did bring it with me on this trip. I went across the street to get it. Yes, in the middle of the night. No shit. And yes, without skirt, panties, or bra. Just my overcoat. The mask turns me on and makes me hot. And that's all I'm going to say. For now."

I let it go. We continued eating in silence. I wondered where her mind was going.

"You know, I figured there must be some reason you carried that knife, Panty Shredder," she said after a while. She took a sip of coffee and looked at me over the rim of her cup.

"Oh, come on. There are lots of reasons to carry a knife. Most guys do. It's good for all sorts of things. Cutting seat belts if there's an accident. Opening beer bottles. Cutting down boxes. Stripping cable if you're in the utilities business. Who can tell? Or shredding panties if you're in that business."

"Right. Uh huh. Is that really a business? Eat up. We have to go soon."

* * *

We took the stairs up to my room. I followed behind her so I could get a good eye-full of her fantastic bottom and her boots.

Once there, she seemed surprised when I took my gun, magazines, and other stuff out of the safe in my, or now our, room.

She whistled. "Damn... that's totally hot for some reason. Couldn't tell you why. I believe the phrase is 'All guns are always loaded'?"

"Ya sure ya betcha." I checked my pistol and holstered it. "And so's the installed one."

"I've noticed. Seems to work quite well, in fact."

I slung my bag over my shoulder and we went out the door. "Here's the other key card, m'dear. See you this evening for another round, maybe?"

"Oh, you bet your ass we will," she answered.