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Click hereBy way of introduction, let me say that if you haven't read the first chapters of this story, then much of the next few pages will mean very little to you. So I suggest you go back and read "Mister Jack Miller: Chapters 1 thru 4" to get the background on this tale. That having been said, please...read on...
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As I walked into the room, I noticed yet another note from Alex on the bed, which had since been made up by the maids:
JACKIE--
HOPE YOU HAD A NICE VISIT WITH NANA.
GONE TO LUNCH/SHOPPING/BEAUTY PARLOR WITH MOM.
PROBABLY WON'T SEE YOU TILL TONIGHT.
MISS YOU KISS YOU
--ALEX
I smiled at the "written kiss", and folded the note up and slipped it into my suitcase. Then I whipped my polo shirt off, kicked off the Birkenstocks and headed into the bathroom for a shower. I had left my cell phone on the bathroom sink counter. There was a text message from Donna:
JACK: HAD A GREAT DAY SHOPPING - GOT SOME NICE THINGS AT VICTORIA'S SECRET - LOOKIN LIKE A VP OF MARKETING NOW - BACK AT YOUR PLACE AGAIN - MISS YOU - XOXOXO, DONNA
I laughed out loud at the similarity of the text signatures of Donna and Alex, and vowed once more that I would give Donna as many kisses as she could handle once I got back home.
I stripped off my shirt, shaved quickly, and was about to step into the shower when I looked at the clock-radio by the bed. It said 3:20. I remembered that Janelle had said that she was off at three thirty, and that if I needed anything I should call her. Wanting to see her again, and also wanting to find out if she had managed to swing a shift at the Dinner Dance tonight, I wiped the remaining shaving cream off my face, and walked over to the phone. I pressed the "Room Service" button on the phone and waited as it rang.
"Room Service, this is Janelle. Oh, good afternoon, Mister Miller. What can I do for you this afternoon?" I could easily imagine her dark brown eyes lighting up her chocolate-brown face as she realized it was me, her deep voice suddenly raising up an octave as she recognized mine. It definitely sounded like she wanted to be a little more familiar, but was probably in the proximity of someone else who would not approve of her fraternizing, so I thought quickly and made an order. "Yes, can you bring me a pot of strong coffee, two glasses of Bailey's Irish Creme, and a bowl of ice cream."
"Yes, Sir, would you like Chocolate or Vanilla Ice Cream?" I could almost hear her licking her lips.
"Hmm...how about both? Yeah, both. I like it when the flavors melt together...yeah..." Then catching myself in the obvious double entendre, I finished up, "Um, and that's it for now."
"Certainly, Sir." I could feel her giggle in my crotch, "We'll have that up to your room in about seven minutes."
I looked at the clock. It was 3:23. Clever girl. Perfect way to end a shift, I thought. I straightened up the room a little bit as I waited for her to come up, checked my appearance once again in the bathroom mirror, combed my hair again and brushed my teeth. finally, I pulled a plain white T-shirt over my head, and just as I was straightening it out, I heard the knock.
"Room Service, Mister Miller." What a lovely voice she had. Even when she was trying to sound official.
I opened the door and she smiled from ear to ear, showing me two rows of perfect white teeth. "Good afternoon, Sir, your Room Service Order." It was exactly as I had requested, a pot of coffee whose strength I could smell, two large snifters half-full of Bailey's...although instead of a simple bowl of chocolate and vanilla ice cream, there was a huge banana split with about six scoops of ice cream, smothered in chocolate and caramel sauce, and piled high with whipped cream, and three maraschino cherries. She also carried, in the hand that was not holding the tray, what was either a large purse or a small duffel bag.
She looked great, and even though she was dressed in the same outfit I'd seen her in this morning, for some reason she looked a little more casual than she had then. I couldn't quite put my finger on why, though.
I actually had had the presence of mind to clear off a space on the dresser big enough for a serving tray, and had pulled a chair up next to the dresser. "So, what's the damage?," I asked as I reached for the receipt...or what I thought was a receipt. It was actually a little note handwritten on receipt paper. It just said "Complimentary."
"Now, Janelle, you didn't have to do that. I can afford it."
Looking past me to make sure the door was completely closed, she looked me in the eye and said, "Now you listen to me, Mister Jack Miller. Do you realize that I've been walking with my feet off the ground and my head in the clouds since you gave me that rose this morning? The least you can let me do is bring you a nice dessert...oh, and by the way, in case you were wondering, I clocked myself out just before I came upstairs, so I'm on my own time right now."
I took her hand and led her to the edge of the bed where she sat down. I kneeled in front of her and reached behind me to take the two glasses of Bailey's off of the tray and handed her one. "So, Janelle, am I still allowed to tip you, even though the dessert was complimentary?" We clinked glasses, and we sipped at the Bailey's without taking our eyes off each other. Then I figured I should start the conversation.
"So...did you ever find out if you are going to be working the Dance tonight?"
"As a matter of fact, Mister Miller, I did. I will be a 'breaker' tonight, which means that I'll be working wherever I'm needed when someone is having a break. So I might be waiting tables one minute, tending bar the next, in the kitchen the next. So you never know where I'm going to be popping up."
"Well, isn't THAT interesting. I was hoping you'd be there. I know I won't be able to dance with you due to hotel rules, but I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight. Although, quite frankly, I'm even happier to see you now. Did you have a busy day today?"
"Yeah, kinda. We had this big catered lunch for a software company a little while ago. I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Now my feet are killing me. I'm so glad I can sit down for a minute." I watched as she kicked off her pumps, and suddenly realized just what it was that made her look different. both last night and this morning when I had seen her, she had had on black hose. But now, her legs were completely bare, and, from what I could see and smell, relatively freshly shaven. As soon as I realized this, the first thing I wanted to do was look up her skirt, which, as I was kneeling on the floor in front of her slightly spread legs, I could have done in a heartbeat, but I decided to be a gentleman and instead stood up as I said, "well, then the least I could do, especially since you'll be on these feet again in a little while, is to offer you a nice foot massage..."
"Why, Mister Jack Miller, that's awfully sweet of you," she said, batting her eyes and slipping the green jacket off her shoulders, and repositioning herself on the bed as I went into the bathroom to retrieve a warm wet washcloth and the standard bottle of hotel hand lotion. Her position was still a little stiff and formal, so I invited her to slide back and lean against the pillows which were piled against the head board. I sat on the edge of the bed, and made a motion for her to move her feet over onto my lap, which she did rather delicately. I took the warm washcloth and proceeded to wash her feet. I picked one up and thoroughly laved it with the washcloth. She had beautiful toes, and the skin on her feet was as smooth as the skin on her face. I was impressed, figuring she must pamper them once in a while. "Mmmm," she moaned as she relaxed a little sinking back against the pillows a little more. I laid the first foot down on my lap and picked up the other. I noticed as I began to wash the other foot, that she stretched her first leg a little bit, causing her ankle to rub against my crotch. Now, when I had realized that she was without her hose, my cock had already started to react, but when she did this, it began to grow even larger. I tried not to draw too much attention to it, commenting out loud how beautiful her feet were, which she politely thanked me for, telling me that she used a special brand of bath salts that made the skin all over her body as smooth as a baby's. She even accented the "all over" in such a way as if to confirm that she wanted me to touch more if it at some point...
Well, When I finished with the washing, I set the washcloth on the bedside table and picked up the bottle of lotion. I put a sizable dollop onto my hand and began rubbing my hands together as a means of warming the lotion a bit, as it had come out of the bottle a little bit cool. Then, I turned my body slightly toward her so that I was facing her. I had one foot on the floor and the other leg was bend at the knee. I rested her feet on that calf in such a way that her heels were very close to the bulge in my shorts. I picked up one of her feet and started to rub the lotion in. She let out another sigh, took another sip of Bailey's, closed her eyes and said "That feels nice. I think I need this..." She sank down against the pillow a bit more, causing her butt to scooch toward me a little bit, and the foot that I was not rubbing now rested squarely against my bulge.
As I rubbed, I didn't just smooth the lotion into her skin, but really massaged her foot. I made circles around her ankles with my fingertips, and when I got to the sole of her foot, she moaned yet again. This time, I decided to concentrate on the spot that seemed to make her moan, so I dug into her sole with my thumb at that spot, and the first time she opened her mouth after I started rubbing that spot harder, her formality disappeared as she said "Damn, that's a good spot. Right there, just keep that up. So I kept on, and after a while, she moaned still louder and started to writhe a little bit, lifting her leg as if to pull away. This served to do two things. One, it caused me to have to slide a little closer to her in order to keep a hold on her foot, which resulted in my pressing my bulge squarely against her other foot. Two, it caused her skirt to ride up, revealing what I had been curious about a few moments ago, and that was that she not only was without hose at that moment, but that she wore this very lacy lime-green pair of panties that did very little to hide the shape and aroma of her pussy.
I stopped rubbing, more out of pleased surprise than anything at that point, and she let her leg fall back down, which once again concealed her panties from my view. "WHEW!," she said, "You sure know how to give a foot massage." I could almost see her heart beating behind her white blouse, and I could definitely see that her nipples had grown hard while I rubbed her feet.
"Well," I said, dropping her foot into my lap and picking up the other one, "Just wait till I'm finished with this one, you'll never be the same again."
"Oh, trust me, Mister Jack Miller, I'm already a changed woman." With that, she opened her eyes and looked straight into mine. As I got some more lotion from the bottle, she kept looking into my eyes as she rather deliberately rubbed my bulge with her freshly-massaged foot. I pushed back gently but purposefully as I began to rub the lotion into her other foot. She leaned back again, took a somewhat larger gulp of the Bailey's, and closed her eyes again. Once the lotion was evenly distributed on her foot, I began the massage, stopping at one point to tickle her foot with my fingertips. Her eyes opened suddenly and she pulled her leg back quickly in a reflex motion. "Now, now, Mister Jack Miller," she said, "that's not fair. You're going to make me spill this Bailey's all over me, and then where will you be, hmmmm?" Which was unlikely at this point, because as she said this, she drained the last of the glass into her mouth and set it over onto the bedside table.
"Well, you're finished with it now, so all's fair, right?" and before she could respond, I started to tickle her foot again, this time holding her ankle tighter so that she couldn't pull her foot away. Well, I had underestimated one thing about Janelle, and that is the strength that a woman can exhibit when she's being tickled against her will. Since I wasn't about to let go of her ankle, the only thing I could do when she wrenched her ankle back was to get pulled back toward her. but now I was laying on top of her, still holding her ankle and leaning down toward her face. As I said to her, "So, you REALLY don't like to be tickled, do you?" I noticed that I was on top of her in such a way that my bulge now rested squarely on her crotch.
Her reflexive adrenaline now abated, she realized that I was now in the position of dominance, and she returned to her previous tone of demure respect. "No, Sir, I don't. So if you'd be so kind as not to tickle me again, I would be very much obliged to you."
"Very well," I said, letting go of her ankle. She let it drop down onto the bed, but she was now laying back on the bed, her legs spread, her knees raised, and I was on top of her. We were looking into each others' eyes, and I leaned down closer to her, resting my elbows on either side of her torso, our faces inches apart when she replied.
"Let me say here and now how much I appreciate your kindness in this matter, Sir, and let me also say that--" But she couldn't finish her sentence, because I had slid my hands under her head and pressed my mouth against hers. We were instantly locked in a deep soul kiss, our tongues dancing and swirling around in each others' mouths. Meantime, she had raised her feet, and was now digging her ankles into my ass, encouraging me as I ground my bulge against her green-lace-covered pussy. Kissing and kissing, our hot breath warming each others' faces, we chanted each others' names into each others' mouths (she was still calling me Mister Jack Miller, even in this fit of passion). She seemed to be embracing her freedom from the restrictions of her workday, and she was now expressing herself as she had wanted to for some time. I, too, was no longer worried about what her employers might think--we were a couple of people in heat, badly needing this moment of release. I mean, this week had already been something of a sexual circus for me, but it seemed like every woman I spent time with, Janelle included, was causing my body to react like it was the first sex it had had in months.
Somewhere in there, I managed, without breaking the kiss, to stop pushing my bulge against her, and slid my hand down in between her legs. I was caressing her soaked panty-crotch and pushing back as she humped against my hand. my fingers found her clit, and I started to trace circles around it with my finger. She moaned louder into my mouth. then I move my hand down where her lips were and started to stroke and poke against her panties. Suddenly, as I poked, she bucked, and without warning, the lace gave way and my middle finger was buried deep inside her pussy. She broke, the kiss for a second and looked me in the eye and said, simply, "Uh-huh," and nodding her head yes before pulling my head back against hers and sliding her tongue back into my mouth.
Well, I figured at that point the panties were a non-issue, so I continued to finger her like that, my thumb rubbing against her clit, soon adding a second finger into her boiling pot of honey. I was pressing my fingers high up inside her, searching with my probing fingertips for that spot on the high ceiling of her pussy that I hoped would give her something more than a twenty dollar tip to remember me by. She started to chant, "Uh-huh, uh-huh. uh-huh," into my mouth as I probed and wiggled my way towards that magical place, at the same time as she was reaching down to unzip the zipper of my shorts and pull my cock out of the fly. She was stroking it fast and fucking my hand harder and harder as I got closer to the spot, then suddenly, as I swiped my thumb-tip twice over the tip of her clit and simultaneously curled my fingers back to press against a spot I hadn't touched yet, she nearly bucked me off of her, pushing against my chest with her free hand to break the kiss and shouting "YEAH Baby! OH WOW!" She was so focussed on her climax she let go of my cock and threw her hands behind her head and chanted again, "UH-HUH, UH-HUh, UH-Huh, UH-huh, Uh-huh, uh-huh..." As her voice dwindled away to a mumble and the writhing and bucking slowly subsided, she looked up into my eye and smiled so big and relaxed all I could do was smile back at her. She reached up and pulled me back down into a kiss again, then whispered into my ear, "Mister Jack Miller, you are a naughty, naughty boy. Don't you ever tickle me again, do you hear me?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I whispered back, letting her take charge, "Never again..."
"Because you know, if you do, I'm GOING to have to punish you."
"And how would you do that," I asked her, gigglingly.
"Well, right now, for instance, I could tickle you back," she said a little louder as she reached down between her legs to take my cock into her hand again, tickling her way up and down the shaft. My balls were still in my shorts, so she couldn't tickle those. "So behave yourself, and you might get...rewarded."
With her last word, she positioned my cock at the hole I had poked into her panties, and guided me into her. I don't remember ever having sex as fully dressed as I was at that moment. Neither of us had taken off anything but our shoes, but here I was, deep inside her pussy, grinding once again against her crotch, and smilingly saying to her, "Mmmmm, I like rewards...I'll take the rewards over the punishment any day...although, seeing as how I haven't seen all possible punishments yet, who knows? I might like being punished by you..."
She got a look on her face that was a mix of surprise at my words, but at the same time it looked like she was actually pondering other ways to "punish" me. Even so, she began to grind against my cock the same way she was grinding against my fingers just a few moments previously. I pushed back and rotated my hips, causing my shaft to move in circles inside her, "stirring" her pot and touching her in places that a straight-in fuck would never have touched. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she said, "Well, we'll just have to see how things shake out then, won't we?" My hands were planted on either side of her torso, and her knees were hooked over my elbows, so I started to fuck her in earnest, driving my dick deep and fast into her (as deep as the barriers of shorts and panties would allow), looking into her eyes as she sang my name, "Misterrrr.....Jaaaaack......Millerrrrrrr...Rooooommm...Serrrrrrrvissssssss..."
This being, of course, my third potential orgasm in as many hours, I was not surprised at how long I lasted with her. In fact, I realized after several minutes of hard-n-fast fucking that I was not about to come anytime soon. So, I stopped for a minute, my cock still buried deep in Janelle's pussy, and asked her, "So, what time do you have to report to work?"
"Six o'clock," she said, "We gotta do some set-up before things start at Seven thirty."
I looked over at the clock. It was a little after five o'clock, meaning she had an hour before she had to report.
"Do you have to get changed or anything before you start?" I asked.
"I brought my outfit. It's in that bag." She pointed to the bag I had seen in her hand when she first came in.
"Ah, yes, well...how would you like to share a shower with me before you get dressed?"
"Hmmm...," she said, looking a little suspicious at me, "If you promise not to tickle me," she smiled.
"Well, I'll TRY to behave myself, but I can't offer you any guarantees. Whaddya say?"