The Brass Statuettes Ch. 14

"That was good practice." She laughed when she thought of the boy and how easy it had been to manipulate the young male. She set the spare margarita in the service bar refrigerator and the other on a shelf next to the steaming tub. She slipped off her silk robe and hung it on the knob on the bathroom door and then stepped into the water. Her hands cupped her breasts as she stood in the clouds of suds. With her eyes closed she could feel the perfume, not just smell it. She inhaled again—deeper. Her nipples stiffened in her hands; she indulged herself in pinching them. It felt good. Her hands drifted down to the vee where her thighs joined; she pressed in a little. That felt good, too. A finger found its way into the slot. She was surprised at how moist it had become after her game with the black waiter. She absorbed a little spasm of pleasure.

"Ah' wager that young man is off in some private place relievin' himself raht now." She smiled. It was a little bit humorous and satisfying at the same time. She wiggled the finger inside her again. "Ah know that's what Jason would do." That thought made her laugh out loud.

She suppressed her desires and removed the finger before things got carried too far. Her legs folded and she sunk down into the soothing foam. Her drink was on the shelf behind her. She retrieved it and took a healthy sip. The alcohol started to flush her at once; the contrast of the coldness of the drink to the warmth of all else awoke the senses. "Ah still got it."

*************

Darlene spent a long time in the tub, rising only to fetch her spare margarita and then promptly returning. She had fallen asleep for a short time, shortly after polishing off the second drink. When she woke it wasn't quite time to get dressed, but the water had grown cold and the bubbles all but disappeared. She looked down at the soapy film on the water and could feel the same thing on herself, so she decided to take a shower.

She put her hair up first and sealed it under a shower cap before stepping into the stall. The cleansing water poured down; her hands cupped her breasts again. She wanted to see if the earlier feeling was still there. It wasn't the same under the water as it had been when she was dry and powdery smooth, but something good was happening and that made her glad. She let her hand descend further, to the center of pleasure. That was in working order, too. She quickly pulled her hand away when the sensation started getting too good.

"Enough of that hanky-panky," she scolded. Scolded whom? Certainly not her, and one couldn't scold one's own body part without scolding oneself. She decided it was an unanswerable question and for an instant was an excuse to let her hands return down there to do what they wanted to do. As her fingers approached, she drew quickly back. She was unsure why, but she did so and was certain it was the right thing to do.

After she turned off the shower and dried herself Darlene looked at the River Walk below. Darkness had nearly descended all the way. She could stand nude in front of the window. The lights on the walk looked like stars in the sky. Stars meant destiny—destiny was demanding, secretive and master. It always chose its moment. Darlene felt herself shaking. At first, she tried to relax, and then realized that she didn't want to. She hadn't felt so since that night on the runway at the pageant.

There was just enough time to get dressed at a pace that she liked. When she finished, she would look just right.

*************

When the elevator opened on the first floor it was nine o'clock and Darlene did look just right. She took a quick survey of the crowded lobby. There were hotel employees, of course, and many more people who looked beautiful, just like she did. She fit right into the fashionable scene and she blushed at that. She was glad that she wore her pearls, after all. With her dress showing so much skin, she told herself to try not to blush. But blushing, like many things, was involuntary. She had thought her black cocktail dress risqué. She observed a large number of dresses filling the scene before her that were far more daring. But, all of the women with daring dresses were on the arm of a man. Darlene stood alone in the lobby and her dress was plenty daring. Unknown and daring in San Antonio, she felt risqué.

As she strolled about the main floor she finally found what she was seeking. It was a banquet room full of people and it looked like a formal dinner breaking up. There was a sign: National Petroleum Institute; Speaker-Mr. James Sweeney, Effect of the Weak US Dollar on Worldwide Petroleum Prices. Darlene rolled her eyes. "Doesn't sound very excitin'."

She was glad that Gloria hadn't arranged for her to attend the dinner. She might have fallen asleep during Jim's speech instead of in the tub.

She recognized Sweeney from Gloria's parties. He stood near the podium chatting and shaking hands. The crowd was thinning and she went into the banquet room and got at the end of his receiving line. She thought she saw Jim glance at her as she waited. Perhaps he did, or maybe she was just hoping so. As she waited she reviewed what she would ask him.

The receiving line seemed to speed up and soon Darlene stood in front of him. She extended her hand. "Hello, Mr. Sweeney, Ah'm..."

"I know who you are," Sweeney said as he smiled at her and softly took her hand. "Gloria Warner phoned me and told me to be on the lookout for you. Did you really drive all the way to San Antonio just to see me?"

"Why no, actually," Darlene replied, a little bit flustered. She nervously smoothed her hair. "Ah just drove down to do some shopping. When Ah saw your name on the sign Ah just naturally had to say 'hello'."

Sweeney listened and gave a skeptical harrumph. He never lost his friendly face. "You can call me Jim," he said. "And let me say that you are gorgeous in that beautiful dress."

"Why, Jim," Darlene blushed and giggled a little. She didn't say any more because she knew she didn't have to.

"Let me buy you a drink," Sweeney said. "Gloria told me that if you found me you might like to speak to me about something concerning your husband." He placed his hand in the small of her back. "There's a bar over there," he said, pointing with his other hand. They walked together to the bar, whose walls were open to the traffic in the lobby. They found a table and sat down.

"What'll you have?" Sweeney asked when the waiter came to serve them.

"A margarita," Darlene answered. The waiter wrote it on his pad.

"Too sweet for me," Jim declared. "Make mine bourbon on the rocks."

Darlene suddenly couldn't find the right words to say. After all the thinking and planning during the drive over from Houston, and in the hot tub full of bubble bath and margaritas, what seemed so obvious became so elusive. She felt a chill—probably the air conditioning hitting her in the frothy dress. Sweeney looked at her. He was expecting something.

"Mr. Sweeney, mah husban'..."

"We don't have to talk about that now, Darlene—may I call you Darlene—we'll get to it later. For now, let's just enjoy our drinks."

He was such a kind and understanding man, at least in Darlene's estimation. He made it so easy for her to be there in such difficult circumstances. She raised her margarita to her lips. It was only going to be a small initial sip. It was, after all, her third one of the day. But the saltiness mixed with the sweetness and the shaved ice made her take in more than she originally intended. Margaritas were so relaxing, as she had most accurately informed the young Room Service bellhop that afternoon. The tequila took the chill away in short order, so she was glad she had taken in more than she originally planned.

There was a stage next to the bar. A group of Mexican men with beaded costumes and oversized sombreros climbed onto it carrying guitars. One had a trumpet.

"Do you like mariachis?" Jim asked.

"Ah don't rahtly know," Darlene said. "We haven't lived in Texas that long and Jason doesn't like ethnic places."

"Shame," Jim said. The mariachis started playing, drowning out all else. They sang in Spanish. Darlene understood none of it. She was grateful for the extra time to allow her to compose her story. The music attracted people from the lobby and soon the bar was full. "I enjoy the music," Jim said as the group paused between songs, "but we'll never get to discuss what you want to talk to me about with all this noise." The band started playing again. Jim leaned closer and placed his hand on Darlene's bare arm. "Drink up!" he yelled over the noise. "I know a place that's better." He lifted his glass of bourbon and tossed down the remainder in one gulp.

Darlene looked into her margarita that she'd barely started. "C'mon, drink up. We're leaving." Jim cajoled. She raised the glass to her lips and took a gulp. She set it down. It looked like she'd hardly made a dent in it. "What're you waiting for, a doggy bag?" Jim was laughing and handing the waiter a handful of bills. Darlene closed her eyes and drank the remainder as fast as she could. She stood up right away, so she could get started before the alcohol took full effect.

Sweeney guided her to the bank of elevators. As they waited, an elevator door on the far side opened and a bell chimed. Darlene looked over at it.

"Can't use those," Jim said. "Hafta' wait for one of these."

Darlene was starting to feel the effect of her drink. To her surprise, it felt good—just a warmth that made her feel good. She expected to be woozy. She remembered that she hadn't eaten anything. Someone had once told her that was a bad idea. "Maybe the lime juice in the cocktail counts as food," she speculated to herself. Anyway, she felt fine and so what was the problem? While she was figuring that out she realized that she and Jim were riding skyward in an elevator.

"Whereabouts are we goin', Jim?"

"I've got a suite," he answered. "It's nice and quiet up there and we can have a discussion in private. Wait'll you see the view."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh! Ah didn't realize we were going to your room. Ah doubt it would be propah." Darlene listened to herself say the words. They were the right words to say, but they didn't sound like words that would convince her if she were doing the listening.

"Oh, it's not just my room," he assured her. "It's more like a collection of rooms in one. Most of it is a living room and a kitchen."

Darlene felt a little better, and she knew the elevator wouldn't stop until it arrived at his floor. Sweeney still wore his leprechaun smile. He really was a nice man—so gentlemanly. When the elevator door finally opened there was a security guard sitting at a small desk. His presence made Darlene feel better, too. Sweeney showed him an ID and they were quickly inside the suite.

"I think you were drinking margaritas," he said from the kitchen. Go ahead and look around while I fix you one."

What he'd said was true. The suite had a full living room and kitchen, along with a media area and a large balcony. There were several closed doors around the perimeter that Darlene took for bath and bedrooms. There were expansive windows that allowed a view to the hills around the city, but that was meant for the daytime. In the dark, there wasn't much to see.

Sweeney approached Darlene and handed her a new drink. He had a fresh bourbon of his own. They touched glasses and took a sip. Darlene took a seat on a leather couch nearby and crossed her legs. The black cocktail dress slipped nicely up her thigh. It showed just the right amount of flesh and Darlene judged it to be a nice looking thigh, made just for that dress. Jim sat on the couch with her, but not too close. It was a big couch and they were at opposite ends of it.

"Now tell me what you wanted to speak to me about," Jim said and leaned toward her to listen.

"Well," she stammered, "mah husbin', Jason, has been with Western only a short time."

"He and Frank Bennett don't get along and you want me to talk to Frank," Sweeney volunteered. Darlene was surprised. She opened her mouth, but words couldn't come out. "Gloria Warner prepped me a little," he confessed. "Besides, I'm aware of it every time I go to the office."

"Why, yes," Darlene said.

"You know, Darlene, Frank is a good man, but he can very insensitive at times to sensitive people like Jason. I think I might be able to help you out."

"Oh, please, Jim," Darlene blurted out. "Jason wants to quit and move to a college in Upstate New York." She started crying.

Sweeney laughed. "We can't let that happen, can we? Now dry your eyes. I have a surprise."

"Surprise?" Darlene blinked.

"Yes," Jim said. "I turned on the hot tub before I went down to give my speech. I don't think you noticed it on the balcony. We can take a soak and finish our drinks out there."

Darlene had not seen the tub sitting outside the sliding glass doors. "Oh...no...Ah mean Ah really hadn't expected that," she stammered.

"I said it was a surprise," Jim said. He hadn't moved, nor had he given up that smile.

"Ah have nothin' to wear," she countered. "It truly is a surprise. Ah brought nothin' suitable with me."

Sweeney put his hand on Darlene's bare shoulder and stroked up and down her arm. "You won't need anything to wear, honey." Darlene gasped. She had expected some back and forth banter. She needed to find a suitable opening to back away from the proposition. This was all so direct. "You've done such a good job taking care of things," he told her in a soothing voice. "You've nearly completed the mission. I have to admire you; you've done it all on your own." He stroked her arm again.

"Thank you, Jim," she said, "but I didn't intend for things..."

"Oh didn't you?" he asked. His words were so pointed, but his face was so friendly.

He was still holding her arm. It wasn't a tight grip. She could have easily pulled away. She couldn't make herself do it. "Ah did do it all by mahself. It's what Ah had t' do, an' Ah'm not sorry," she said to herself. She relaxed and let Sweeney continue to hold her arm. It was starting to feel rather good. She reached with her free hand and took a healthy swallow of her margarita.

Sweeney released her arm. "You're shy," he said. "I'll get you a robe to cover yourself until we get in the water." He stood up from the couch and disappeared through one of the closed doors.

Sweeney returned in about a minute carrying a terrycloth robe. Darlene stood in the middle of the living room waiting for him. She left her empty glass behind on the coffee table.

"Ah'm not shy," Darlene declared. She lifted her black cocktail dress over her head. While he was fetching the robe she'd removed her hose and panties. She was nude, except for the pearls and her earrings. She stood still in the middle of the room for him to see her.

"Very nice," Sweeney drawled, as he might say if admiring a work of art, or a prize bull, or a gushing oil well. He tossed the unneeded robe on the couch. Darlene performed a slow pirouette. "Darlene, honey, I think we're gonna turn out to be the best of friends." She stepped close to him and kissed him. It was a physical kiss. She stroked his lips with her tongue as it ended. "Why don't you get in the tub?" he said. "I'll be right along after you."

"Why don't you take your clothes off and we'll go together?" she asked. "Don't tell me that you're the shy one."

"Not by a long shot, honey." He was already unbuttoning his shirt. He threw his clothes on the couch with Darlene's robe. Soon they were both nude. "I'm ready if you are," he said. He reached out and cupped her breast. To her surprise, he was gentle and well-practiced. He rubbed his thumb over the nipple. Darlene liked that.

"Ah think it would be nicer to go in the hot tub aftah-ward," Darlene said.

Jim released her breast. "Follow me." He led her to one of the closed doors.

She spoke to herself as she followed him. "A really think Ah can do it. Ah'm gonna do it. Ah wouldna' believed it, but Ah'm really gonna do it." She obediently followed him and thought of Gloria as she walked the few steps. He opened the door; she beheld a king sized bed with the covers turned down; she looked down at it. "Ah'm gonna do it." She could scarcely believe it, but it was real.

*************

Darlene took her place on the bed without hesitation. Jim offered his hand and she took it for support so she could ease down in the center in a graceful manner. One might not have thought the pretentious descent so important at a moment when so much else was happening; it was part of the package.

The clean sheets felt cold on her bare back. She looked up and saw Jim standing alongside the bed, looking at her and smiling. She took a quick look at his chest full of hair, the rotund belly, his erection just below it. He was so different from Jason; she didn't mind. In fact, she looked forward to the difference.

She fought off her urge to roll up into a demure cocoon. "Ah've come this far—why hide?" She relaxed with her arms to her side, her knees bent so her feet were flat on the sheets and her thighs spread open just a little. She didn't avert her eyes, but looked straight back into his. She began to like the feeling of him looking at her. His expression told her that he liked what he saw. Why shouldn't he? There was nothing not to like, after all. She'd confirmed it in the mirror in her room that afternoon.

It was all hers to give or withhold; it was at her sole discretion. It could be given freely or in mercenary fashion. It was for her to decide. She felt high. She assumed it was the tequila finally having its way with her. Perhaps it was—she didn't care.

She let him look all he wanted. There was a new feeling—one that she liked—that came upon her. She felt the power to use her body to please and to take control. She was about to get for herself that which she wanted—no, what she needed. She was taking, not asking; value given for value received. It was the value of her—determined by her, not by Jason. With that realization, she became glad that things were turning out as they were.

"Really nice, Darlene," Jim said in a low voice. She was confident that he meant it. She raised her arms and reached out to bid him welcome. He took her hands in his and mounted the bed.

She expected him to climb between her legs and begin. She would have let him. Instead, he positioned himself alongside her. His hands smoothed and caressed all over her body. They glided over her legs and inside her thighs; across her taught belly and over her breasts. As his palm passed over them the nipples erected a little bit harder and that felt rather nice. Jim's body was certainly different from Jason's, and his technique was different, too.

"You're beautiful, Darlene," she heard him say. It made her flush. He didn't have to say that, but she was glad did. "I want to make you feel good," he whispered in her ear. He reached down and tenderly drew her labia apart.

"That would be alraht, but it can't be allowed to go too far," she said a silent reminder. He inserted his finger there, and she did feel some pleasure. He knew just where her magic bud was, and he was so careful not to rub it too hard, like men sometimes do. He found just the right pressure and rhythm. Darlene relaxed and let him keep it up. It was rather nice. She felt his erection pressing against her thigh. She wrapped her fingers around it and heard him moan.

It was hard to bring such a nice thing to a close, but she wanted to maintain some reserve. This was sex, not love-making, after all. "Ah'm ready," she whispered. He didn't say anything. He withdrew his finger from her and started to lift himself from his lying position. She let go of his penis. She spread her thighs wide; he climbed in between them. He knelt between her legs, taking a final look before descending down to her. "Lookin' at me like Ah'm the Mona Lisa."