A Hunting We Will Go!

"Ms Jackie," she had insisted, "you have to pack somethings for a fancy party! Who knows where your friends will want to take you out?"

Felicity helped me to make the last 'go bag' items to load into 'Lady Nightingale' before I left the condo. I'm grateful she did. Pulling an Adrianna Papell black cocktail dress out of the closet, I decided it would do. I had used this gorgeous outfit on one other special occasion. It's boat neckline, long, pearl embellished sleeves, and the short sheath skirt had certainly turned heads at that consulate party. Those long gossamer sleeves would easily tear away in hand-to-hand action and the just above the knee cut gave me mobility over a long gown. The pearl-beaded look certainly suited my Far Eastern features. Being East Asian without pearls is like—being named McTavish, a Scot, with a — Louisianan brogue! A glance in the mirror had me on pause; I hadn't given my bod a check out in some time since I started the simulator training. Certainly not in these clothes! I looked—hot.

A soft smile crossed my lips.

"Woman! Those sloe eyes are to fall in love with not to mention that Rapunzel hair length! You look—eighteen, you tease." I delivered an 'air kiss' to my doppelganger image in the mirror as I finished dressing. The feel of silk gliding over my body felt—sensual; bringing a tingle of pleasure to my unfettered nipples. 'One-hundred-and-three pounds of dynamite.' JW had murmured after I took out the three FBI agents in the safe house. I wondered how Jack Wilson, number two, would be drinking in my appearance since he had only seen me in jeans and pullovers for almost three months.

The Hyatt concierge provided directions to the restaurant, Supper. "Easy seven minute drive up I-37, Ms. Wilson," she answered my inquiry about its location as she handed me a red line marked map to the restaurant. She added, "I like your dress! It—sets off your skin tone so well! Someone special meeting you for dinner?"

Her inquiring look paused as she drank in my appearance. Her eyes lingered just a bit too long. The slight upturned grin told me she liked what she saw. I liked her looks, too; bright, fresh, and a hint of a shy smile that betrayed the look of someone new to such experiences! Like a parrot, my auto-smile matched hers.

"Business it seems, sweetie, all—business!" I remarked shaking my head to clear my thoughts about my new concierge acquaintance. Why hadn't we met before!

"I get off at ten!" I heard her soft, euphonious voice whisper as I turned, "...in case you would like to—sit and—talk for a while."

Looking back over my shoulder, I answered, "Perhaps—I'll have to see how the evening plays out, first—Abigale." I replied glancing at her name tag. "Perhaps..."

The thought lingered in the air as I headed for the parking garage. I could feel her savoring the allure of the dress as her brown eyes followed me out the door. Immediately, I thought of Oscar de la Renta's one liner, "Walk like you have three men walking behind you." Sometimes, Oscar, you only need to walk like you have one woman's eyes on your behind to get the same bounce in your walk!

I strolled out of the nearby parking lot near Supper's entrance. There, I spotted Jack waiting, looking at his watch. I was on girl's date time; ten minutes late. By the time he looked up again, I was in his view. His hand dropped to his side; the lateness forgotten as his demeanor lightened. I could tell immediately he was pleased. His smile lit up, like a prom date.

After all, he was a man; sweeping a woman's body with his eyes. Caught up in my hips, no doubt imagining my hidden cunt, and landing back on my breasts before, regretfully turning his gaze to my smile. Those were my thoughts, or, it could just have been the pearls that fascinated his embracing eyes as he took in my shimmering dress. His dazzling smile turned upward to dimple his cheeks.

Erasmus' book of proverbs said, "Vestis virum facit" 'A suit can make a man.' Erasmus was right! This man wasn't the same aviation flight suit clothed one that corrected my mistakes for over nearly three months until I got them right toward the end. He looked like he stepped out of a high-end, department-store catalogue complete with a Breitling Endurance Pro Chronograph strapped to his wrist. Jack looked svelte; without the aviator glasses—more at ease, and less like GI Joe poised for action.

Without a pause, he held out his hand and clutched me into him. A kiss landed on my cheek. "Kiss me, Jackie! They may be watching," he whispered as his arms circled my waist. I did. I reached around his waist holding my clutch purse with one hand and squeezed him against me for an extra measure of affection; in case they were watching!

"Who the hell are 'they' and why are 'they' watching us?" I whispered as I delivered another light kiss on his other cheek.

"Let's go in. I'll explain inside," his lowered voice answered. Inside, he gave his name. "Reservations for the Wilsons," he remarked.

Escorted to our table, Jack helped me into a chair and sat opposite. "Small talk, about the Riverwalk," he directed in a hushed voice. Our ad-lib table conversation meandered about strolling the evening down on the river. It didn't take long to run out of words about that. Nothing in JW's training covered playing undercover restaurant scenes! I did like the one evening when I took the river boat ride and used most of that trip in my prattling with handsomely dressed Jack Wilson; the ravishing one seated across from me.

"They?" I finally managed to smile and ask at the same time.

"Look over my shoulder, the burly guy with a wire in his ear; I don't think it's a hearing aide. He's across from the blond in that plunging neckline."

"I see them." I answered as I sipped another bit of wine. Right as our food came.

"You don't recognize him or her; or anyone else?" his eyebrows raised.

I looked again, the light was dim, but I could make them out clearly, "No, neither one!

Who the fuck are they, Jack?"

I delivered my question, with a light smile, trying not to stare any longer than necessary as my spider sense swept the room for anyone I did recognize. By the time my eyes swept back across the room again, I caught Jack's shit-assed grin.

He chuckled, "I don't know them either, but they came in a few minutes before you arrived. Heard them say they were from El Paso or maybe it was Paraiso." He laughed aloud as he raised a glass and offered a toast, "To a newly certified lady pilot!" he announced. It was loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. A half dozen glasses raised with a, "Here! Here!" accompanying the toast.

I blushed.

"Asshole!" slipped out, before I could retrieve it. I knew, from his toast that he was proud of my accomplishment; cramming eight months of training into three. Still, my hands are not those of an expert; but he delivered on his promise—he didn't let me crash and burn on the runway.

"You took advantage of me!" I added with a little heat in my voice. "You stole a kiss! Extorted it, even." I pouted; or my best pretense at it.

Jack didn't take the bait, though. "It was two kisses and only one hug. All three were nice. Didn't you like mine?" he cajoled.

I couldn't carry-off staying mad or even pretend to do so. The guy just told me I could pass as a real pilot. His tender kiss on my cheek did feel good, just too short and it came as a surprise!

"Not sure you are much of a kisser, Jack Wilson. The one you delivered sort of flamed out and crashed on landing." I got that line out with a light laugh of my own.

"Perhaps you would permit me to try landing another; one that has better preparation?"

"I'll think about it, Jack Wilson," I sighed and looked down at dessert. Pecan pie with vanilla ice cream. One-hundred-and-three pounds going on three more after this meal!

"Jackie, we have three training days left. No training tomorrow. No intel analysis for you either. I need you totally rested, grounded physically and mentally. Tomorrow, you rest!

Friday and Saturday you are going up with the big boys; no simulator can put you through fighter jet training experience. I guess he saw me tense and my face go a bit ashen, because he added...

"You will be fine ..." he chuckled, watching the stunned look on my face, "... you are a 'ride along' not the pilot!" Just think of it as two days of high g-force turns at the carnival rides! Then he deadpanned the next line. "Sunday you and I will stretch the Phenom to its limits, even a few barrel rolls. Don't upchuck in the plane; no one is there on Sundays to clean up the mess!"

'Jack #2 and JW both had a damn-fucking-funny way of holding back the heavy shit until just before it hits the fan!' I thought.

The fork in my hand started to tremor, as I tried eating the pie and ice cream. It felt similar to my first combat with a real sword against a real opponent. He lost a few fingers as he tried to take aim in such close quarters. I'd given him a choice: drop it or lose a limb. After that melee, I felt the same type of tremors coursing through my body as the adrenaline rush faded. Here a wrong twist in the air meant—you die ... not much chance of correcting a light jet at high g-force like a true fighter jet. The Phenom could come apart in midair under the wrong g-forces. I pictured my death as a freefall to Earth—screaming with sword in hand as Mother Earth came up to greet me.

Jack watched me fight the hand tremor. I guess he had seen it before—with other first timers.

"Jackie," he murmured, "Let's take a stroll on the River Walk. It will help clear your head."

I nodded. Jack had come by Uber. He rode in Lady Nightingale with me to the Hyatt; her throaty growl seemed to approve of his presence. Taking the stairway down, we walked together on the river's pathways. It was late. The crowds had dissipated. Jack was right. I did feel better cloaked in the quiet and stillness of having two feet grounded upon terra firma. The Riverwalk offered up its serenity, helping to calm my nerves.

"Hold me," I whispered on impulse, as a nervous shiver flowed through my body, in spite of the warmth of the night air. Even a swordswoman needs a calming hug sometimes.

I wanted...needed, more than encouragement in this moment; even needed more than my new-found concierge's becoming eyes temptingly offered. Her words held out a promise of more than to sit—or just to talk. I didn't know any more about Jack Wilson tonight than the first day I met him at Stinson Field. Yet, tonight I knew just enough about him to draw upon his gentle nature. It went against Protocols. But shit, in the field, protocols get blown away frequently. I broke protocol; fuck it!

"Is someone waiting for you to come home, tonight?" I asked turning to hug him; waiting for his reply. He hugged me closer, with a soft sigh, yet silent in his embrace.

"Answer me, dammit!"

His answer came in the form of a husky whisper as he hugged me more tightly in his arms. "It's after midnight, ..." he murmured, as his embrace pulled me closer. "... She will be asleep, probably curled up on the couch, next to a paperback mystery thriller; I guess...There's plenty of food in her dish and enough water for most of tomorrow. Lady will be fine, I'm sure." He drawled the words out savoring the last ones.

"Asshole," I murmured against his chest. His attempt at being coy, trying to add a touch of humor, wasn't answering my question as honestly as I needed. My moral code of conduct didn't include getting involved with someone who was committed to another. His answer smacked of a ruse to cover over the truth. Yet, I wanted to believe it. I needed to believe him. Drawing me closer, as though he read my thoughts, he leaned down to kiss me. Slowly, light, and sensual his lips brushed then pressed mine; as his hands slid down to my waist, edging lower. My body yearned for his closeness.

"No one is waiting for me, Jackie," he breathed softly as our kiss broke. This time, his voice rang true.

It was the beginning of a part of what I needed tonight. Effusively, I returned his kiss, pressing for another. He drew me tightly to him again, as his hands cupped my ass ...until a voice under the bridge giggled, "This spot is taken! Get a room you two!"

"We have one!" I retorted, not bothering to look into the shadows at the couple's similar embrace. The girl giggled at my response. Quickly, taking Jack's hand in mine, we walked silently back to the Hyatt on the River Walk. In another part of me, I felt the heat growing more intense than the warm River Walk air. I had needs, tonight. Those needs for a room to fulfill them were growing more urgent.

I glanced at the empty concierge desk; thought of that longing look as I left with her eyes lingering upon mine. They held anticipation, hoping I would return. Abigale said she was off-duty at ten o'clock. It was now, after midnight. I found myself thinking, "Hope you found someone to sit—or—just to talk with tonight, girlfriend." I gripped Jack Wilson's hand more tightly as we passed the check-in desk heading for the elevators.

As the elevator door closed, Jack Wilson used the empty space as an opportunity to finish his previously interrupted kiss. I didn't mind. My own libido was rising as his hands hiked up my pearl cocktail dress. The feel of his hands, skin on skin, sent a tremor up my legs as he cupped my butt and pulled me forward. He held me, tight, as his kiss explored my tongue.'I'm glad I didn't lose the sleeves in hand-to-hand combat. That would have been a shame to ruin an eye-stopper dress!' I thought. Then again, Jack was getting frisky! This dress might not survive the trip from the elevator to my corner room with a view. Not that Jack would be interested in an outside view right now.

"This is...out of protocol. You know that, right?" he breathed, as his hand kneaded a handful of my ass.

"Fine time for you to get religion on me, Jack!" I moaned between urgent kisses.

"Protocol isn't religion. It's in place to prevent..." he whispered giving me a last chance as I crushed my lips to his.

"Fuck protocol!" I breathed against his chest, "I need this. For all you know this could be my last fuck!"

The door to my hotel room barely closed and the words hardly left my lips when Jack's hands found the zipper and quickly unzipped my dress. I dropped my arms from around his neck; his hands cupped the fabric, just above my shoulders, and slipped the seams over them. His gentle hands shucked the pearl sequined sleeves off my arms. Gravity took care of the dress as it flowed to the floor. He kissed me again. Again, his hands roamed my body, this time unhindered by fabric, pure contact of his fingers gliding over my flesh; until, they found my breasts. The light brush over my nipples set off a sharp jerk up my neck. My back arched as my head jerked up and back at the sensations of his fingernail lightly tracing an arc over my buds. "Ah, yes, nice!" The words slipped of my lips in the form of a hissing sigh as the wave of pleasure shot through me.

My hands were working his belt as I drew away from his kiss. 'To hell with gravity!' I though as I peeled his slacks down to his ankles. I was hot to explore the bulge in his briefs. I could feel the heat of it through the fabric. Then the soft, warm skin texture as I stripped down his underwear. Meanwhile, his hands had worked on his jacket and shirt until he was nearly as bare as me. More so now that I had his skivvies down to his shoe tops. I stopped, briefly to admire my handywork. 'This will do—nicely!' I noted as I held his cock, rolling back his foreskin as far back up his shaft as it would go. It got a hiss and groan from his lips as I stretched it taut as I knelt before him.

He leaned back against the door for support as I took a few moments to admire his cock then to plant a short, sweet kiss. I could taste the pre-cum that seeped out in his body's rush to prepare his cock's contribution to my moist slit. I wanted to have it as well, but if I let the rush flow through us now—it would just be a quick fuck; without much satisfaction—for me, I knew. For Jack, well it would always be what a man got; stress relief from climaxing. Too damn easy for men!

I held back. The adrenaline rush faded for a moment in our over exuberance; nearly pre-climatic levels. I slumped down, my butt upon my calves as I breathed deeply, trying to adjust to the overwhelmed sensations of lust. That lust that had me wanting Jack to nail me against the elevator wall. Here, at least we could let that sensation wind down for a few minutes. I thought. However, as I looked up, tilting my head back to assess Jack's facial expression; maybe not. The tension in his jaw and the wide stretched eyes said he expected, perhaps, more. He didn't ask. He was playing the part of a gentleman.

"More?" I asked, grinning.

"God! Yes!" he practically hissed.

I puckered up my lips as he looked on, opened my mouth for his eyes to see, slipped over his gland, then sucked all the air out of my mouth. My cheeks collapsed as tightly against his cock as I could possibly get them. A gasp of air and an accompanying hiss drew down his throat. I swallowed several times massaging his cock with those gland squeezing swallows. A nice practiced move, I found men liked.

"Fuck, yes!" he huffed, nearly toppling as his legs shook.

"Sugar!" I chuckled, "Let's get you out of these shoes. Can't have you falling down and breaking a leg. That would really delay training!"

"To hell with training, darlin'" he chortled, "But I'm all in on getting out of the loafers and..."

"...Into my cunt?" I finished his thought, just after one more long, slow slurp.

Grinning and slipping the last shoe off his foot and kicking his pants away, his now husky voice added appreciatively, "That was my thinking, also!"

"You know my intel gathering says a guy is good for about six minutes ... a woman needs thirteen to twenty-one before that toe-scrunching, leg trembling, big earthquake rolls up her valley," I teased, as I helped slip off his socks. He was a smart man ... I figured he could work out a plan to handle that intel. It was my way of saying I wanted it slow; even if his body was saying, 'Slam it home baby!'

That grin stayed on his face as he scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom. He lay me down, gently. Pulling back the covers on one side of the bed for me to scoot over to the sheet layer. Then he pulled down the other side. Nothing to impede our movements, I read in between his deft moves.

I lay on my side watching him standing next to the bed; admiring my attributes. His right hand swept my waist length hair from covering my breasts. My dark, hard nipples held his attention as his eyes drank in my breasts and the curves of my hips. The feel of his fingers brushing over my nipple raised the hairs on my neck like the hot breath of a man planting kisses down my throat. My eyes were focused on the twitch of his dick as he admired me. The only thing between me and that stretched out cock was the red thong I was still wearing. Slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to trace over my mons for a moment. Then looked into my eyes as his fingers rested against the thong's silk fabric. His emotions seemed quiet, pensive. Just that slight twitch in his jutting cock indicated the feelings below that layer of silence.

He took that pregnant pause to ask, "Did your intel gathering tell you how long a man's tongue could stay stiff...longer than six minutes would be my guess...that would be at least the twelve minutes you need, right? Six minutes of tongue and six minutes of cock, right? But I could go longer...make you cum for me with my tongue first. Let's start with that approach first, Jackie. Are you game for that?" He smiled as he reached for my thong drawing it down and off.