Hela... is Ch. 03 - Mortality

He produced a pair of black leather gloves from his jacket, pulled them on wriggling his fingers all the way in, and got to work. He noticed me staring at his hands, and offered, by way of explanation, "I always keep a pair of gloves handy, you never know when you might need them." He smiled. "Such as changing a tyre without getting all messed up."

For the first time I took a good look at him and, although casually dressed, he was wearing clothes that had obviously not come from a 'nickel and dime' store. Once again I felt there was something about him partly because he'd not attempted to ingratiate himself with me. Admittedly we had met only a few minutes before and he looked old enough to be my father, but that hadn't previously prevented men of his age, and older, from hitting on me.

The wheel replaced, we headed inside, got our food, and selected a quiet booth far from the door. I don't know, even now, why I opened up to him. It just seemed so natural. For the next hour I went through everything that had happened in my life and he sat listening, occasionally interjecting but mostly sitting quietly, while I told my story.

"You've had a shit life, Hela. Some happy years but they've been heavily cancelled out by the bad ones," he said, quietly, as he absentmindedly motioned to the waitress for a coffee refill.

That was when I asked the question that changed my life.

"What do you do for a living? It must be well paid, looking at your car, and your clothes didn't come from a Thrift store." As soon as I had spoken I thought I'd overstepped the mark. But he just smiled.

"I'm what you might call a troubleshooter, Hela. People hire me when they have problems and I make the problems go away."

That was how our relationship began and my life changed. Mentor and protege. He taught me all about his work, and I eventually went on jobs with him. Until one day he went solo on a job, and never returned. But by that time, not only was I proficient with my skills, I was efficient and deadly, and I had all the business contacts.

**********

I was on my way home after solving a problem for see one of the people who used my services. I hadn't eaten for several hours, ever since breakfast, and I decided it was time I stopped, both to eat and rest. I was planning on stopping off in Nashville on the way home but I still had a long drive ahead of me and when I spotted a roadside diner I pulled into a space in the parking lot. Another car came to a stop alongside and out stepped the handsomest guy I'd seen in quite a while. Although he was wearing a well worn pair of jeans, and a polo shirt that matched, he still had that classy look that made him stand out without making an effort.

He flashed a smile and said, "Hi, looks as if we both had the same idea after all that time on the interstate."

"You've been following me?" I couldn't disguise the suspicious tone in my voice.

He laughed. "Not at all. We both stopped at the same gas station about fifty miles back and you had just finished filling up as I was pulling in. If you don't mind me saying, you're an easy lady to remember. Particularly with that red hair. It would appear we are headed in the same direction."

"Could be," I said. I was still more than a little suspicious. In my line of work you have to be.

We entered the diner, him holding the door for me, and before we could say anything a server approached and asked, "table for two?" The guy looked at me, the unspoken question on his lips, and I nodded.

"We'd like a booth by a window, please," I requested the server, in a way that told him it wasn't a request. "As far away from the door as possible."

I slid into the seat facing the door and with a view of the parking lot, particularly my car. Always be careful and always be prepared my mentor had told me and his advice had proved invaluable more than once.

After being seated, and ordering drinks, we introduced ourselves and he thought I'd said my name was Helen. I corrected him and he remarked that Hela was an unusual name. I feigned ignorance when he asked if I knew what my name meant, and how did I get it.

"My mother chose it before I was born," I said, casually flipping through the menu even though I knew what I was going to order.

"Do you know it's origin is in Norse mythology?" he said, leaning across the table.

I could see he was anxious to display his knowledge so I went along with it, leaning back to regain my space.

"Is it really," I said, coughing in an attempt to contain the laughter in my voice, but managing to keep an inquiring look on my face. My mother, who I miss dearly, had a keen interest in Norse mythology. She'd not realised at the time how prophetic the name she had chosen for me would turn out to be.

He continued with the air of someone about to disclose important information. "In Norse mythology Hela is the goddess of death."

Both of us laughed, but for different reasons. If he only knew!

"So what's your name?" I asked. "Is your name from mythology?"

"Not as far as I know. It's Lucas. I remember my parents telling me they picked it because when I was born it wasn't a popular name. Apparently it wasn't in the top hundred baby boy names that year."

This was beginning to turn into a boring conversation. I decided to move him onto something more interesting but, whether he sensed it or not, he did it for me.

"This country is made up of a lot of different cultures and immigration has come from countries all around the world. So, do you come from this area?" he said, changing the direction of the conversation.

"No. I've been visiting friends. Are you from around here?" I wasn't remotely interested but I had to say something.

"New York." He looked at me as if he expected one of the usual banal comments about the 'Big Apple.'

"New York? You're a long way from New York! Must be about a thousand miles."

"New York originally. But for a few years I've been at 'Ole Miss."

"You work at the university?" So he wasn't just a pretty face. I've met plenty of good looking guys whose complete conversations revolved around the Yankees and the Mets or, if they didn't like baseball, then the Knicks. Perhaps he did have some grey matter under his hair.

"That's right. I teach there."

"Teaching?" I tried not to seem surprised. I think most people don't think of university lecturers as good looking.

"Modern literature. Associate Professor."

"That must be..." My voice tailed off as my brain searched for inoffensive words to finish the sentence.

"Boring?" His smile told me it wasn't the first time he'd had this reaction.

"No... I didn't mean..." I could see I was digging a hole for myself.

"I'm only joking. It's like a lot of things. It's interesting to people who find it interesting. What about you?"

I had my standard response ready. "I'm what is called 'a lady of independent means' which is more or less true, but occasionally I do freelance public relations work."

"Public relations. Dealing with people. That must be interesting?" He sounded as interested as I must have sounded when he said he taught literature.

"It can be." I wanted to switch the conversation quickly before he began delving deeper into my lifestyle. "Where are you headed?"

"I'm on my way to Nashville. Going to see the a show tomorrow evening."

"Excuse me, but are you ready to order?" The interruption from the server arrived just at the right time to pause the conversation.

We ordered and for the next hour ate, drank and talked of nothing important. Drank a little too much. Not too much, just too much to drive safely.

"I think I'm going to book..."

We both spoke at the same time and laughed as we each realised that we were going to say the same thing. There was a motel two blocks south and we ended up side by side at reception booking a room for the night. The clerk assumed we were a couple and asked, "twin beds or double?" Lucas looked at me, questioning, and I nodded. "That will be a double, please," he said.

"Do you have a south facing one available?" I interjected, and the clerk nodded. I like to wake up in a morning with the sun shining through the blinds. Lucas signed the register and we headed for the room. As soon as the door closed behind us he held me in his arms and kissed me. Kissed me tenderly. Neither of us made any attempt to remove our clothes, or remove each other's. We just enjoyed the moment.

It felt so good and so different from the previous forty eight hours. Work is work and it can be stressful and tiring although this last job had gone fairly smoothly with the desired result. The client was satisfied his problem had gone away and my bank account was considerably enriched.

"I want to make love to you," he whispered in my ear.

"You don't need to whisper," I whispered back. "There's only us here. Unless they've got hidden cameras."

He pulled away, his eyes searching the room. "Do you think there are hidden cameras?"

"Would it matter if there were?" I said, as my hand caressed his growing bulge. "We could give someone a little excitement in their life."

"Only a little? I hope we can do better than a little?" he said, realising I'd only been joking about the cameras.

"Stand still," I ordered. I put my palms on his chest, inside his shirt, pushed my hands upwards, and slipped his shirt over his head and shoulders, casually tossing it aside. Holding my body against his bare chest, I moved my hands to his back, pushing his elbows away from his sides. I touched his shoulder blades and then slowly pulled my nails down his back, gently grazing his skin, feeling the reaction going through his body. Watching him close his eyes, and his head go backwards, as he enjoyed the feeling. Better still is to come, I thought, wait until I do it with my bare breasts against your chest and your shaft against my cunt. I kissed my way down his chest, past his nipples and his six pack, until my mouth met his belt buckle and my knees met the floor. Unsnapping the buckle I slid the brown leather belt, loop by loop, from around his waist, letting it drop to the floor.

Button by button, which made a nice change from the usual zip, I undid his jeans and then, in one swift movement, pulled them down to his ankles. I yanked his boxers down and stared at what was revealed. This was going to be a good night!

"Sit down," I instructed, pointing to a chair by the bed.

He shuffled towards the chair, still with his shoes on, and with his jeans and boxers around his ankles. He managed to get there without falling, and struggled to remove what was left of his clothing, while I knelt watching with my laughter hiding behind my hand. Leaning back in the chair, naked, with his manhood hanging between his thighs I only had one thought on my mind. I'm going to enjoy fucking the shit out of this guy! He opened his mouth to speak but before he could do so I leapt into his lap, putting my hand over his mouth.

"Shh. Stay quiet. Please. I want to give you a show."

I picked up my phone, checked through my music list looking for something suitable, and selected S & M by Rihanna. Just right for what I had in mind right now and perfect for later.

Stepping back, I retreated a few steps, turned the other chair in the room around and straddled it with my arms on the backrest. I stared at him for a few seconds leaning forward slightly with the hint of a smile. I slipped my tongue from between my lips, the tip exposed just enough to point upwards towards the cleft in the lipstick on my upper lip, and then stroked it across, the lust shining from my eyes.

Balancing on my three inch heels and with my eyes glued to his I bent at the knees, slowly gyrating my hips in time with the music. Pirouetting, I gave him a view of my ass contained within my leather trousers. The ass that had sat on many faces and which itself had felt the touch of many submissive tongues. When facing him again, I slid my hands down either side of my crotch, my thumbs rubbing my sex through the soft leather. I closed my eyes knowing, without looking, where his eyes would be fixed.

I took hold of the collar of my leather jacket, my very expensive leather jacket, lifting it into the high collar shape preferred by the men who wanted to appear macho and the women who wanted to appear sexy. The jacket was already unzipped halfway down and I completed the process. Shrugging it off my shoulders I tossed it on the chair. My hands rose to my breasts, pushing them upwards and inwards. Squashing them together. My eyes open but not looking at him.

Removing the tee shirt was the most difficult part of the routine so far. I needed to do it quickly but retain the image. Fortunately it didn't have sleeves. Crossing my arms, I pulled it smoothly over my head. Thank heavens my red hair was smooth and tamed. For a second I thought about throwing it away, changed my mind, and used it to wipe my bare breasts.

For the first time since starting my strip began I looked at him directly, saw his face betraying his thoughts, watched his hands gripping the chair, his weapon loaded and ready to explode. I sat astride his lap, my hands on his shoulders, grinding down on his erection, letting his cock feel the softness of the leather. The sweat ran down his face, I could almost hear the pounding of his heart.

"No more. Please. No more." His hands were clenching and his fingernails digging into his palms, his muscles taut. "I can't hold on. Please! Please!"

In an instant I was on my knees, between his legs, taking him in my mouth. A woman has the power to decide how long before she allows him to come. Does she tantalise him and keep him waiting? Take him to the edge and then stop? Or does she bring him to the boil quickly and have it all over with before his pleasure has been satisfied?

I decided to have him blow his load quickly. One hand on his cock and the other on his balls. He didn't have a chance. His seed rushed out, spraying into my hand and I collected everything he had to offer. No way was I going to allow him to come on my face or on my tits. Whatever else we did tonight I was a domme and I had my limits. Rising, I leaned over him, pulling his head back.

"Open your mouth. As wide as you can," I said, in a voice not to be questioned.

All that he had given me I poured into his mouth allowing him to taste his own cum. I could tell from his reaction it was a first for him. I held my hand in place and he knew, without me saying anything, what I wanted him to do. He eagerly licked my hand clean.

Some people might think it degrading to the woman for her to suck a man's cock. That's far from the truth. Normally a man's brain might be in his head but when he's with a woman his cock is hers and she has the power. The power of pleasure and pain. The power of release or a ruined orgasm. He looks into her eyes, unable to see his cock because her mouth and throat envelops it, and he knows then who is in control and surrenders.

"That was...," he stopped, searching for the words he wanted to say.

"I know," I said, modestly. "I was good, wasn't I."

He grinned. "You arrogant devil. But you are right. That was fantastic."

I leaned into him, almost nose to nose. "Wait 'til you see what I have in store for you next."

A few minutes later we were laying on the bed, side by side, kissing and exploring each other's bodies with our hands. His manhood was once again tall, firm and ready to go. His fingers found what they were searching for and slipped inside me. One at first and then he discovered more were possible. Removing them, he offered them to my mouth and I greedily sucked my own juices.

"I want to be inside you. From behind," he murmured.

I thought about it for a few seconds. It wasn't something I normally allowed. Very, very rarely if truth be told. I slid off the bed, offering myself to him. On this occasion lube wasn't needed. I already knew how wet I was, in anticipation, as my juices began to run. He pushed forward, gently opening me, sliding in the first inches. I could feel the inside of my legs becoming even wetter. It had been a long time since my body had been this ready to invite a man inside me in this way.

"Fuck me," I murmured. "Fuck me as if you mean it."

With one thrust he shoved his cock all the way into my hot, steaming cunt.

"Fuck me," I cried.

He worked hard to make me happy but it wasn't easy for him with having come not long before. I got satisfaction. I came. Three times. His balls hadn't had time to allow him to come again but his cock was firm and I got my pleasure which was the most important thing. My pleasure is always the most important thing. Eventually he admitted defeat in his efforts to come. He was crestfallen.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, with his eyes watering. "I don't know what to say."

I think that's when I fell in love with him. Not because he had been fucking me. Not because he was making a hell of a good job of it. But because I could tell he was trying to please me. To make me happy.

"No need to be sorry. I've never come like that before." Not the truth but what I felt had to be said in the situation. What was needed. Anything else would only make him feel worse and I didn't want that.

I'd got what I wanted and he needed reassurance of his masculinity. I'd enjoyed our bodies linking, as I'm sure he had, and I'd orgasmed. I didn't feel guilty but I also didn't want to make him feel he had disappointed. I lay my head on his shoulder, my body against his, stroking his chest, making sure my hand didn't go anywhere near his penis. We both fell asleep in that position.

I woke up and thought what a fool I was not to protect myself but everything had been so enjoyable I never considered it. Why had I not insisted on a condom? Although it was impossible for me to become pregnant, that choice had been brutally taken away from me long ago, what about the danger to my health? I'd been very unwise but there was nothing I could do about it now. A visit to my doctor had to be on my 'to do' list.

I shook him awake. "On ya back, Stranger," I said, in my best movie cowboy accent. "I want ma revenge furr ya violatin' ma body." Holding back my laughter was really, really difficult. He lay back, laughing, and held up his hands in mock surrender. I cupped his balls in one hand and held his cock with the other and took control of his droopy manhood.

"That feels good," he said, watching me through lidded eyes, as I stroked him. My thumb and finger just managing to touch.

That remark had a good ring to it. I licked around the tip, stroking him gently with my fingers, feeling him begin to stir. It wasn't going to happen quickly. I didn't want that. But he had satisfied me and I was going to give him satisfaction in return.

"I want you to lie back, close your eyes, and let me work." The tone in my voice was unmistakeable. Soft but firm, and he dutifully closed his eyes for me.

"Good boy." Praising someone is an excellent way of getting them to do what you want. I recognised he was like the majority of men I encountered. Men who wanted to make me happy. Some of whom did make me happy. Some of whom did satisfy me. But every one of them was a man who desired what I could give them.

Finally he was ready and I climbed astride him. His eyes remained closed. As they should. Gripping his cock, I placed it at my entrance, and slid all the way down his length until we touched. I held still for a few seconds then began to gently rotate around him, squeezing my muscles, letting him feel me. Placing my hands on his chest I lifted myself up a couple of inches and then slowly lowered myself again, repeating over and over, watching the smile spread across his face.

"Not a word," I said. "Not one...single...word."