Snake Bite Ch. 02

Authors Note: If you haven't read Snake Bite, please read it first for continuity.

Bill called me on Tuesday, asked if I had set a date to leave for New York and I told him Tuesday, June 3rd. He said he'd call me back with flight info and that my ticket would be held at check-in. I objected but he was relentless. The first item on my agenda was to straighten some things out...uh, bad choice of words!

Fourteen hours, 45 minutes, 12 seconds; that was the time we spent together. They were the most thrilling moments of my life. I found myself constantly humming that "oldies" song, 'Cherish is the word that I use to describe...'

When we had talked about my life and my family, he laughed. He envisioned my parents as the couple in Grant Wood's painting 'American Gothic' except that my father, the minister, was dressed in a black suit and high, starched collar. That was my life! We lived in the 19th Century. How does someone live twenty-one years without awareness? Maybe exist is a better word. OK, it wasn't quite that bad, but it was close.

Here I was, a chick just out of its shell. Would I like what I found and adjust to it or want to live it? Bill told me not to worry; I'd be as happy as a pig in...something or other. I asked him if that was a proper comment to make to a young lady! He laughed. Well, he does have a way with words, doesn't he?

Bill had suggested that I not join the "Mile High Club". I giggled and told him that this was a maiden voyage; even the crew was female! My quick retort stopped him cold. I could sense the look on his face, 'Where in hell did she hear of...'

On June 3, I was on my way. Bill had left a message at the check-in counter; he couldn't leave a meeting at the office but the Company driver would meet me...the third life adjustment! An elderly woman sitting next to me, looked at my face and held my hand most of the way. She told me it 'takes some getting used to' and that she'd been flying since the 19th Century, some of the time on a broomstick. I couldn't stop laughing; she didn't see that much humor in her little joke.

After saying goodbye to my old friend, I walked through the terminal to the arrivals area and there it was...a placard that read MERCY MAIDEN.

As I approached the holder, a light blush covering most of my face, he said, "Miss Maiden?"

I laughed and told him that my name was Mercy Maitland.

"Oh," he replied. "The receptionist must have misunderstood!" This time I giggled. He introduced himself, collected my bags and we moved to the car...the biggest, shiniest, dove-gray Mercedes that I had ever seen. The leather was as soft as a baby's bottom, even my bottom. There was a TV and a mini-bar. There was also a frosty bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

"Miss Maitland, please help yourself to the refreshments."

"Thanks, Henry, but I think I'll just take in the view."

Then he asked, "First to trip to New York?"

"Yes, its overwhelming!"

He said nothing more and I sat wide-mouthed staring out the window. I'd seen pictures of the City but no picture ever captured these views. I think the ride to Bill's office took longer than the plane trip...bumper-to-bumper all the way. Henry phoned and announced our arrival in approximately fifteen minutes. He told me the office was in the Wall Street area. When we arrived at the building, there was another placard, this one in bronze. It read Pitt and Company!

Bill was standing near the front doors conversing with another man and when he spotted the limo, he excused himself. He climbed into the back seat and hugged me tightly.

He whispered, "Mercy, I've missed you."

"Me too you, Bill. Uhmmm, the sign at the airport was kinda embarrassing."

"Oh, the receptionist must have misunderstood!"

"A conspiracy, huh?" He laughed.

"Mr. William, home, sir?"

"Yes Henry and we can drop the formality. Ms. Maitland is not Company business."

"Certainly, Mr. William."

I giggled. This was really hilarious and getting more so each minute. Bill told me that Henry had worked for the family for 35 years.

Then he quietly said, "When I was a boy, he called me Billy and my brother Brucey. About ten years ago, we were driving with a client and Henry referred to me as 'Billy'. He went ashen! I explained our history to the client and he asked me if I would mind if he called me Billy. We laughed like hell. In private he does call me Billy. However, Henry never got over it; he couldn't make the transition from one scene to another...so, its been Mr. William ever since. Many people have heard the story and all find it amusing, except my bankers. They believe 'Mr. William' shows proper respect, ahem."

She laughed and said, "Personally, I prefer 'milord'!

"Ah, yes...Perhaps we should add 'and master' to the address."

"Only in your dreams, Billy."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see."

"Yeah, right."

Henry worked his way uptown while Bill was slowly working his hand up my thigh with my sharp nails digging into his wrist. I had never seen traffic like this and I'm guessing we traveled east and west as much as we traveled north. We were finally on Madison Avenue and Bill referred to this street as one of the great shopping meccas of the world. We turned left and left again and he announced Fifth Avenue, my first view of Central Park. I surmised from Bill's standpoint that he was looking at the most desirable real estate in the City. I looked down at his wrist; he might need stitches.

The car pulled to the curb. Henry opened my door and took my hand as I stepped out. He then collected my bags and we entered the lobby, marble-walled and very tastefully decorated. Behind a reception desk stood a dark, tall hunk!

"Good evening, Mr. Pitt, Henry."

"How are ya, Anthony? Meet Mercy Maitland, my uh...niece. She'll be staying with me for a while."

I stared at Bill! I sensed Anthony staring at me!

"Very nice to meet you, Ms. Maitland."

I couldn't speak; I nodded.

Henry asked, "Would you like help with the bags, Mr. William?"

"No thanks, Henry, we'll manage. See you at 6:30 tomorrow?"

"Very good, sir. Goodnight. Miss Maitland," he nodded.

We moved to the elevator, Bill carried one bag and Anthony had two. I glanced back at the hunk. His mouth was wide open; it wasn't the weight of the bags. What I saw was a most lascivious eyeballing of my ass...the word bottom wouldn't apply! We stepped into the elevator, the door closed with Anthony just standing there. "Uncle Bill, that man was staring at my...ass!"

He laughed and replied, "Mercy, that man has no taste...a true connoisseur would savor the entire palette. Speaking of palettes, he's an artist...not financially successful, but quite good. He doesn't make doo-doo in the building; his salary and very generous tips allows him to live a fine lifestyle. He wouldn't risk it."

"Uhmmm, Bill, not to change the subject, but there are a couple of things we have to discuss...like 'uncle' and 'staying for a while'."

"Mercy, I can solve that issue with two words...Marry me."

I laughed and he joined me.

"And seriously," he added, "We do have some things to discuss."

The elevator stopped at the 35th floor and there were two sets of doors off the foyer. Bill opened the door, I stepped inside...I was speechless! He took my hand and we walked from one room to the next. He was talking but I couldn't focus on his words. It was like turning pages of 'Architectural Digest'. Magnificent, suited to a man's tastes; I wondered how much of "this" was his.

Then he brought me back to focus. His arms were around my waist, hands slowly moving to my bottom cheeks and he pulled me to him until our lips met. I tasted hunger!

He again took my hand and moved to the library; I think that's what he called it. There was Hunter green and dark tan walls, a fireplace, cushy leather sofas, fabric-covered club chairs and a campaign desk and chair.

"Well, milady, time for your welcoming drink in New York?"

I looked at him, smiling. He opened a faux bookcase, took out two crystal flutes, popped in two strawberries and filled them with champagne. He linked his arm with mine, right out of the movies, but with him...the most romantic moment of my life!

"Mercy, I think its time for our serious discussion."

"Oh, Bill, do you really want to spoil my first romantic moment in New York?"

"Not really, but here goes. I cancelled your reservation at Jazz On The Park and..."

"You...what?"

"And I added a new line to my phone set...extension 5."

"Bill, I can't live here!"

"Let's just try it out. I think we have the makings of a good team...I'm a dirty, old man and you're just a sexy, sweet thing!"

"Bill, I...I'd feel like a kept woman...your toy!"

"Mercy...Mercy, you'll never be my kept woman. You'll be my posslq."

"Your what?"

"My posslq...person of opposite sex sharing living quarters!"

"This is impossible...I can't...I can't."

"I recognize that we barely know each other...16 hours, 30 minutes, 8 seconds..."

"You've been counting...too"

Bill poured more champagne, more strawberries. We sat on opposite sofas, staring at each other. This is madness. He's mad! I'm mad! I wonder if insanity runs in my family; I'm sure it does in his. I know it's not just the lovemaking I crave; he's warm, compassionate, romantic, funny...

She's staring at me; she knows my brain is lop-sided! I never thought I'd have the guts to say the things I did and I'm the most outspoken SOB in New York. Shit...shit...shit.

"Bill, I'm starving. Is there any food in your Euro kitchen or is it just a photo set!"

"No, not at all. I'm cooking tonight and you can be my assistant. Can you cut vegetables for a salad?"

"Ha, Ha, Ha! You forget I'm a farm girl."

"Oh, that's right. She was just a farmer's daughter but..."

"Don't push it, Billy...I should call home first to let them know I arrived safely and the big, bad wolf didn't get me!"

"That's what you think!...use extension 5."

"Ah, yes...in New York three hours and I have my own phone. They certainly have fast operators in this town!" I laughed.

"Hi, Mom! I'm here safe and sound...Yeah. There was some mix-up and my reservation was cancelled...No, it's fine. I called Billie Pitt and she insisted that I stay with her until I find a place...I don't think you've met her. She was a senior when I was a freshman...yes, very nice."

Bill was standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

"Mom, I haven't been Little Red Riding Hood for a long time. I think I can handle myself just fine."

His hands moved down my body and he cupped my breasts and then he lightly pinched my nipples. I turned and glared at him.

"...no, Mom, I just swallowed my gum...I'm going to order one tomorrow, but I'll phone you until it's installed. You're a honey, Mom. Give Dad my love...I've only been gone six hours, but I miss you too...OK, Mom, talk with you later. Bye."..... Shit...shit...shit.

"You...you are incorrigible! How could you do that while I'm talking to my Mother." My body was tingling.

"I'm sorry, Mercy. You said you could handle yourself and you were holding the phone, so I thought...."

"Billlll!"

He held my arms and moved them to the back of the chair and before I could blink, my wrists were bound by the seat cushion ties.

"Bill?"

I stepped in front of her and slowly unbuttoned her dress. She just stared at my hands. Then I moved the dress as far down her arms as I could. My fingers slipped under her bra and I pushed it up her chest. My palms touched her nipples and I moved my hands in small circles. She was staring at me. Her mouth was open; it wasn't shock that I saw. My breasts, my nipples...she was warming, nipples swelling...her checks were flushed. I knelt at her feet and drew a nipple into my mouth. I pulsed it with my lips.

"Bill...untie me."

"I can't...I'm busy. I'm going to heaven and you're coming with me." She moaned.

I raised her hips, lifted the dress to her waist and moved her to the front of the seat cushion. The gusset of her panties was very damp. I opened a desk drawer, removed a pair of scissors and cut them. She gasped at the touch of the steel. My tongue reached her cunt and then wormed its way in...damp outside, very wet inside with a tangy taste of sea salt. Her clit was engorged. I touched it and I had to grab the chairs legs; she was going to tip over and take me with her! I sucked and licked her and kept my eyes on her face. The moaning was constant, her pelvis jumping at me. She was close. "Oh, Bill...I'm going to...." I pulled back and rested on my heels. "You...you...you bastard!! How could you?...How?"

"You're in New York now...we always have hors d'oeuvres before dinner. I wouldn't want to satiate your appetite..."

"Bastard...bastard...bastard!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. OK, Mercy, I'm going to untie your hands now and if you feel you must..."

"Shut up...please shut up...and untie me. You are going to pay for this. You've made me a horny, fallen woman...and you leave me like this? You are going to pay big time!"

"Mercy, it's called foreplay. When you finally get there you're going to blast off like..."

She laughed hard, probably because if she didn't she would have cried. I smiled.

"Bill, you'll never know when it's going to happen, but it will."

"What was that bit about a "horny, fallen woman?"

"....I'll explain it another time. Can we start dinner? I'm starving."

"See, I told you so!"

"Billll!"

I untied her , took her hand...she pulled away...and we walked to the galley kitchen. I hoped that the way to a woman's heart was...oh, well. I opened the fridge and placed small covered dishes all over the countertop.

"You are about to experience the best cuisine in the City, Creamy pesto pasta ala William!"

She chuckled and said, "I suppose to succeed in your field, you need a giant ego and big thermometer...uh, I mean balls!"

"Ha, ha, ha,...Mercy, in this case, modesty is ridiculous. Can you fix a salad?"

"Does a bear make 'doo-doo' in the woods? Remember, I'm a farmer's daughter."

As I cut the greens, I watched him at the counter. He was putting fresh ingredients in a food processor; basil, Romano cheese, olive oil, garlic clove, a little water and cream. He turned so I didn't see the final touches...probably Spanish fly.

The processor went to work and then he put the mixture on the range lowering the heat to a simmer. A large pot of water reached a rapid boil.

"Mercy, grab the pasta. It's in the fridge wrapped in a towel."

"Oh, I've never had fresh pasta."

"Mercy, in this kitchen, everything is fresh!"

"That I already know, Bill."

Six minutes later, we were ready to eat I had started to salivate two minutes earlier...the aroma was beyond words. We sat on bar stools at the counter and ate pasta and salad and sipped wine.

I put my fork and spoon down and said, "Bill, your ego could even be bigger...this was fantastic!"

"Merci, Mercy. How about my balls?"

"We'll talk about that later." I giggled. He laughed.

He suggested a walk and I heartily agreed. Down the elevator, through the lobby, new man at the desk, greetings here and there, four blocks south...the Metropolitan Museum!...four blocks north, back through the lobby...same story...ogling. Well at least he didn't see panty lines. Opps!

As we approached the living room, I said, "Bill, I'm a little tired."

"It's a little early for bed."

"Did I say anything about sleep?" I winked. He smiled. "By the way I didn't see any bedrooms."

"They're through that door, Mercy."

I opened the door...a two-person elevator...it was a duplex! I stepped inside and he followed. Just above the up/down buttons was a small plaque. It read 'Snake Pitt'. I roared.

"Just my brother's idea of a little joke. Bruce had it made after the tattoo affair. When you meet him, don't be surprised if he calls me Snake."

"When I meet him?"

He told me there were four bedrooms. In the second one, he pointed to double doors and said, "This is your closet."

"And where do I lay my head?"

"In the master's bed, of course."

"You mean in the master bedroom, of course." He laughed.

His bedroom was 'all man', again. A large four-poster bed, massive French armoire, paintings on the walls...a Degas reproduction...nah, couldn't be. I was definitely going to ask. He picked up a remote control and the drapes opened, wall-to-wall. There was a magnificent view of the park and the surrounding buildings.

He picked up a box from a small table. It read 'Bergdorf'.

"I have a gift for you, Mercy."

"Bill, you can't do this. You're making me feel very uncomfortable."

"Are we back to 'kept woman'? Mercy, I treat everyone like this, my family, my staff, my secretary...she's sixty, my close friends, and mostly to charities and the arts. You will never, ever be my kept woman. I want you to banish those words from your mind. Can I give you some clichés to explain this rich man? Money is just paper...you can't take it with you...he who dies with the most toys, wins...that's bullshit! Mercy, my family collected wealth through two generations; I think it's time to give some back."

"Bill, you're awfully long-winded! Can I open my gift now?"

He laughed and handed the box to me. I lifted the tissue paper. I was afraid to touch; the most beautiful lace bustier and French knickers. There were tears in my eyes.

"Well, are you going to put them on?"

"No." I hugged him; I wasn't going to let him go.

"Mercy, you know the knickers are just a replacement for the ones I...uh, damaged. I should have given them to you earlier. When we took our walk, was it drafty?" He chuckled.

"No, Bill, it was actually quite pleasant...a new experience and no panty lines!" I giggled; he didn't get it and I didn't want to take the time to explain it.

We ripped our clothes off...figuratively speaking. His staff sergeant stood at attention and so did my nipples. He pulled me to him, his penis digging into my abdomen; it felt like a branding iron! OK, tit for tat; my nipples were branding his chest. If I was to be permanently scarred with a pole rising from my pubis...he was going to look like a pregnant bitch!

We moved to the bed and lay facing each other.

"Mercy, are you still safe?"

"Why, Bill, I'm surprised you ask. After you, how could there possibly be another!"

"What about you?"

"Well, I did come into contact once or twice...with my fist...you know, kinda like a preventative maintenance checkup. I passed with flying colors...well, actually white!" We both laughed.

"No condom, huh?"

"No condom."

He moved over me and kissed me gently. He licked my lips. His iron was a little higher on my body...so what...a dong is a dong! I'd look like a stallion and besides, he was about to lave the heat from my nipples. His finger pulsed my areola; my nipples were throbbing. He sucked one into his mouth and then it felt like he was trying to suck in my whole breast. His tongue was pushing the nipple to his palate and releasing, again and again.

"Bill? Bill,...I'm going to...Billll! Oh, God. Oh, Godddddd!"

He stopped moving and stared at me.

"I've never...that never happened to me before."

"Uh, Mercy...I've never seen that happen!"

He moved up my body and kissed me. I was shaking. His penis moved against my swollen lips picking up my dew. Then I felt the glans penetrate me and withdraw, then in again...another inch and another. I relaxed my vaginal muscles but I was still tight. He looked at me; I nodded. I told him there was no pain. He retreated slightly and then penetrated again and never stopped until I had all of him.

Nobody moved. My heart was pounding. My clitoris was throbbing. I wanted to move my pelvis to rub against him but I fought the urge. Suddenly, he moved...all the way out. I bucked to catch him, but failed. He rubbed his cock against my clit and up and down my lips. Then he penetrated again and I swear I heard "a starting bell" in my head. He was moving...slow, fast, slow again...on and on, then pounding me. I was soaring. Before he came, I reached three times.