One Night in Detroit

She answered the phone but could not make out what Tina was saying over the jukebox and the ambient noise in the crowded saloon. "Hold on," she yelled into the phone, "Let me go where I can hear you." She got up from the stool and raised a finger toward Ray. "I'll be back in a minute." He nodded at her with just the hint of a scowl.

She threaded her way through the crowd to the back of the bar, squeezed by the pool players and ducked into the tiny lady's room.

"Tina, you still there?"

"Yeah, honey, I'm here. I have a job if you want it."

"Hmm, maybe not..."

"Lizzie, you want it. He's a real high roller. Usually he calls for Monique, but she's spending the weekend with Aunt Flo and doesn't want to work. And you asked me to find you a date."

"How high a roller?"

"He pays five hundred and he tips her at least a couple hundred more."

"For straight?"

"I guess so, but honey, for seven hundred dollars, I'd take it in the ass."

"Alright, when and where?"

"He's at the Ren Center Marriott, room 3504. Whenever you can get there."

"Half hour."

"Have fun."

Elizabeth broke the connection and made her way back to where Ray sat at the bar.

"I've got to go," she told him. She picked up her glass from the bar and downed the last of her scotch.

"Well, that's too bad," he frowned, "But let me walk you to your car."

"Sure. I'm just across the street." She walked out of the bar, with Ray right behind her. As they crossed the street, he took her arm.

"I am dead serious, Liz, I want you to pose for me. You know where my studio is, don't you?"

"Yes, I was there a few months ago for Owen's birthday party."

"You are welcome to come by any time. Or I'll see you here," he shrugged.

Elizabeth unlocked her car door, then impulsively, leaned forward and kissed Ray on the cheek. She got in the car and pulled away from the curb. She looked in the rear view mirror and saw him, standing in the middle of the street, watching her until she turned the corner.

She got caught in the first flow of traffic heading home from the hockey game. The constant beeping of car horns told her that the Red Wings had won. She checked the time and texted Tina that she was running behind.

"He will wait," Tina texted back.

When she reached the Renaissance Center, she decided that she could afford to splurge on valet parking. She pulled up in front of the entrance to the Marriott and turned the car over to an attendant.

It was quiet in the lobby, and she had the elevator to herself as she rode to the thirty fifth floor. It only took a minute to find 3504.

A stout, balding man answered her knock. He was wearing silk pajamas and a white hotel bathrobe.

"Hello," he said with a very natural smile, "You must be Amanda."

"Yes, I'm sorry I'm a little late, I ran into hockey traffic."

"That's alright, dear. Please come in."

Elizabeth stepped into the room. It was large and elegantly appointed. The lights were low, and she could see a panoramic view of the river and the lights of the Ambassador Bridge through the high windows.

The client introduced himself as Anthony. He took Elizabeth's jacket, showed her to a seat in a high backed chair near the window, then took one next to her. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket on a table between the two chairs. He poured a flute for Elizabeth and one for himself.

Anthony was a chatter. Elizabeth didn't mind, she understood that he was paying for the companionship as much as for the sex. He could have just gone down to the hotel bar and found a fifty dollar quickie if that was all he wanted.

He told her that he owned a chain of auto parts stores in central Ohio. Once every couple of months, he came up to Detroit to meet with his industry suppliers, and treated himself to a date while he was away from home. He didn't seem disappointed that "Amanda" had taken Monique's place this time.

They talked for a while, then Anthony reached into the pocket of his robe and took out an envelope. He handed it to Elizabeth without a word, and she slipped it into her purse. She stood and held eye contact with him while she reached behind her neck and untied the halter of her dress. Shrugging her shoulders, she let it fall and expose her breasts.

"Very nice," Anthony murmured. She slipped the dress over her hips, let it fall to the floor, and stepped out of it. He looked up at her as she fondled her breasts, letting her hips sway gently from side to side. She moved closer and turned her back to him. She bend slightly forward, and felt his hands on her ass. He slipped his fingers into the sides of her thong and tugged it down. He leaned forward and kissed all around her cheeks while running his fingers up and down the back of her legs.

Elizabeth felt his hand slide up her inner thigh and caress her vulva. He slipped a finger inside her, then withdrew it. She looked over her shoulder and watched him run the finger under his nose, inhaling her odor and smiling.

She turned toward him and sank to her knees. He unwound the belt of his robe, and spread it open. Elizabeth looked down at the tent in the front of his pajamas. She placed her hand on it and gently squeezed. It felt like he was average sized and fully erect. She slipped her finger's into his fly and deftly pulled his penis free.

Anthony was an agency regular, and had been fully screened, but she still did a quick assessment of him out of force of habit. She lowered her face to within a few inches of his lap. She didn't see anything that alarmed her, and he smelled clean. She kissed the tip of his cock, and it tasted clean as well.

She raised her head and smiled at him. He smiled back in a way that told her that he knew the game. Without breaking eye contact, she lowered her head and kissed the very base of his shaft, then slowly ran her tongue up its length. She traced the rim of its head, twice around, then pursed her lips over it. She took in half the shaft, then slowly withdrew, then went down again. She sucked him with a slow steady motion, slightly twisting her head with each repetition. She gripped his thighs, and paid attention to each little motion, every twitch of his muscles. She felt him tense when she made a small moaning sigh, so she began to moan louder. When he shifted his weight, she forced herself further down his cock, until she felt it press against the back of her throat. When he began moving his feet, she knew she needed to back him down, she wouldn't get much of a tip if he came so quickly. She released him with an audible pop, and slathered him with her tongue, listening as the rate of his breathing slowed.

Elizabeth sat back on her heels, stroking Anthony's cock with one hand. She raised the other to her face and slowly ran her finger over her lower lip, then sucked it clean.

"Let's move over to the bed," Anthony suggested. Elizabeth stood up and held out her hand. He took it and rose from his chair. She picked up her champagne and took a sip, then set it back down, picked up her purse and led him to the bed.

"Tell me what you'd like," she whispered.

"I like it from behind," he replied.

Elizabeth smiled. "I like it like that, too." She sat on the edge of the bed and put her purse on the floor. She reached inside it and took out a condom and a small tube of lubricant. Anthony took off his robe and dropped his pajama pants to the floor. He left the top on.

Elizabeth ripped open the condom wrapper. Anthony held out his hand and took it from her, dropping it in the wastebasket. That was an unusually polite thing for a trick to do, Elizabeth thought. Generally, she would just drop the wrapper in her purse and dispose of it later.

He stepped in front of her and she took his cock in her hand and raised it to her mouth. She sucked him back to a full erection, then slipped the condom on him. She squeezed a dollop of lube into the palm of her hand and ran it over the condom.

"Are you ready, honey?" she asked.

"More than ready, " he grinned.

She turned around and knelt on the edge of the bed, surreptitiously sliding her lube covered fingers into her vagina. Anthony put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her forward. She leaned on her elbows, spread her knees a bit further apart and arched her back.

Anthony ran his hands over her ass, squeezing and caressing her cheeks. She always felt a flash of anxiety at times like this, wondering if the man might decide to take the wrong hole. But she felt the head of his cock rub against her labia. She reached back and guided it inside of her.

Anthony moved slowly, pressing all the way in, then withdrawing until only the head remained inside. He repeated this a few times, letting out a soft moan with each full insertion. He ran his hands up and down Elizabeth's back, then gripped her hips and began pumping faster.

"Move up," he panted, and Elizabeth crawled forward on the bed. Anthony climbed up behind her. He placed his hands on the back of her shoulders and pushed her down. She laid her head on the bed and pushed back in rhythm with him. He was pounding hard against her now, and beginning to make wheezing noises with each thrust. He better not have a heart attack on me, Elizabeth thought, but a moment later, he groaned loudly and finished.

Anthony flopped down on the bed. "That was quite good," he gasped between breaths.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, rising to her knees. She patted his thigh. "If you don't mind, I'm going to freshen up."

"Please, do," he replied, "then perhaps we can have one more glass of champagne before you go."

"That would be lovely."

She took her purse and went into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she saw that her hair was only a little mussed, and she just ran her fingers through it. Her lipstick, on the other hand, was smeared pretty badly. She wiped it clean and applied new. After swabbing herself with baby wipes, rolling on some deodorant and gargling a mouthful of listerine, she went back out into the room.

Anthony was back in the chair, sipping his champagne.

"I don't know who to ask for the next time I'm in town, you or Monique," he said as she picked up her thong from the floor.

"Why not both?"

"Well, that is an interesting idea."

She turned her back and gave him a good view as she wriggled into her thong. If he was an ass man, she'd make sure that he remembered hers. She bent over at the waist to retrieve her dress and heard him grunt in approval.

He poured her a glass of champagne as she put on her dress. She sat down across from him, crossing her legs so that her hem rode high, and took the glass from him.

He held out his own glass. "A toast," he said. They clinked glasses. "To a fine evening with a very fine lady."

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied, "and to a very lovely gentleman."

She drank the champagne, then picked up the envelope from the table and dropped it into her purse. She stood to go, and Anthony rose with her. He went to the closet, fetched her leather jacket, and helped her into it. They walked to the door, where he took her hand in both of his.

"Good night, Amanda," he said, "I hope we will meet again." He opened the door for her. "Oh, and you might want to check your coat pocket."

The door shut behind her. As she started down the hall, she reached into her right pocket. There was money there. She pulled it out and saw four fifty dollar bills. When she got into the elevator, she fished the envelope from her purse and checked inside. Five hundred dollars. The agency's cut was two. This had turned out to be a pretty good night after all.

As she drove away from the hotel, she realized that she had not eaten in many hours, and had worked up an appetite in her session with Anthony. She detoured a few block off her route toward home and pulled into the drive through lane at Big Edna's Shrimp Shack. She ordered a dozen popcorn shrimp and a Diet Pepsi. While she waited, she looked back on her evening. It had all seemed to go so badly with "John", but then Anthony had turned it into a very good night, indeed. It was just too bad that her time with Ray had been cut short. She checked the time. It was almost 1:30. Not yet closing time. She could make last call at the Alley Cat. He might still be there.

She got her food and pulled out of the driveway, headed back toward downtown. She munched on her shrimp on the way, and wondered what she expected to do if Ray was still there. Did she just want to have another drink with him, or something more?

There was an open space right in front of the Cat. She popped the last shrimp in her mouth as she pulled into it.

As she opened the door and entered the bar, she was greeted by the loud clack of billiard balls. In addition to the pool players, there were only a few couples left in the bar, scattered among the tall tables and the barstools. Butch was wiping the bar down with a towel. Jimmy Stewart was on the television. Bob Dylan was on the jukebox, singing Tangled Up In Blue.

She walked toward the bar, looking around for Ray. Butch turned his face to her and smiled.

"Your usual, Lizzie?" he asked.

"No thanks, Butchie." She glanced at the few people still sitting at the tables. "I was just looking..."

"For Ray?"

Elizabeth blushed and nodded.

"He left about an hour ago. Said if it was going to be a quiet night, he'd just as well go home and work."

"Oh, okay, well, thanks."

"Come on, honey, have a drink with me before you go." He pulled a bottle of Jose Cuervo from under the bar. Elizabeth leaned on her elbows and watched him fill two shot glasses.

"Is it legal for you to drink during open hours?" she asked him as he pushed the shot glass toward her.

"I didn't think you worried about that sort of thing," he said with a grin. They clinked glasses and drank the tequila.

"Thanks, Butch."

"Alright, honey, you be careful out there."

A light snow had begun to fall. She went back to her car, got in and then just sat there. She was tired, but felt a nervous energy. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She had come back looking for Ray, and he wasn't here. She should go home and go to bed. But hadn't he hinted that she should come see him?

"Fuck it," she said aloud and pulled away from the curb.

The snow was picking up as she turned on to Michigan Avenue. She stopped at a traffic light and saw a woman standing under a street lamp on the far corner. She was wearing sweat pants and a light jacket, and was dancing from foot to foot, her hands buried deep in her pockets.

The light turned green, and on an impulse, Elizabeth pulled over to the curb in front of the woman. She rolled down the passenger window and the woman peered in.

She looked to be middle aged, but she had the bad complexion of a meth user, so there was no telling. "I ain't selling no drugs," she said.

"I don't want drugs. You on the stroll, honey?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, officer."

Elizabeth chuckled and opened her jacket. She reached into her neckline and stretched her dress to the sides, exposing her breasts. "I'm not a cop," she said. It wasn't true that vice cops were not allowed to expose themselves, but she knew that it was widely believed on the street.

"So, what do you want? I don't lick pussy."

"That's okay. I just thought I'd do a solid for a sister." She reached into her pocket and pulled out one of Anthony's fifties. "This weather is shit. Why not take the rest of the night off?"

She held out the bill. The woman snatched it from her hand, then gave her the finger. "You think I need charity from some uppity bitch?"

Elizabeth shook her head and grinned. The woman's reaction was not unexpected. "Alright, well, have a good night," she said, and drove away. She looked in her rear view mirror. The woman had returned to her shuffling dance.

Raymond Hartley's studio took up the entire top floor of a three story former glove factory in Corktown. There was a tacqueria, a Halal butcher and an electrician's union office on the first floor and a warren of apartments on the second. Elizabeth pulled into the parking lot next to the building. A pair of men in white aprons were standing next to the open back door of the taqeuria, leaning on their mops. As she got out of her car, she caught the sweet smell of marijuana coming from their direction. From somewhere down the street she could hear a thumping techno bass line.

She walked around to the front of the building. The only door that did not lead into one of the first floor businesses was locked. There were buzzers on the wall, but they were all for the second floor apartments. She thought back and seemed to remember that when she had been here before, she went in from the rear of the building. She walked back to the parking lot.

One of the restaurant workers called out to her, "Estas buscando a Senor Ramon?"

"Si," she nodded, "Raymond."

He jerked his thumb toward the back corner of the building. "Necesitas tomar el ascensor."

"Que?"

"Elevator," the other man said. He took a long puff on the joint and offered it to Elizabeth.

"Gracias," she said, taking a hit. The first man gestured for her to follow him. She kept a few feet between them as she approached the back of the building.

"Ascensor," he showed her.

"Ah, gracias." She remembered now that she had gone up to his studio in a freight elevator. There was a buzzer next to it, and a hand lettered sign reading "Hartley Studios Third Floor". She hesitated. He might be asleep. But she couldn't imagine he would object to her waking him up if he was. She pressed the buzzer.

She waited a minute, then buzzed again. As soon as she lifted her finger from the button, she heard Ray's voice over a tinny intercom.

"Yeah, who is it?"

"It's Liz," she replied.

"Liz?"

"Yes, you said I ought to come by, well here i am."

"Oh."

"I'm standing here getting snowed on, Ray. You going to let me in?"

"Yeah, of course." She heard a bang, and a thump, and a loud motor getting to work. A moment later she saw the dimly lit freight elevator descend to the ground floor with another thump.

"Just lift the gate," Ray said over the intercom.

The gate was heavy, but she got it up and stepped inside. She pulled it down behind her, and pressed the third floor button. The elevator rose, shaking and creaking all the way. When the top of the inside gate cleared the third floor, she saw a pair of suede moccasins, a tattered pair of jeans and a paint stained blue chambray work shirt. Finally, she saw Ray's face smiling at her. He reached to the wall beside the door, and with more clanking, the gate rose.

She stepped into his studio. He moved back before her, giving her space. He seems more nervous on his own turf, Elizabeth thought, almost like he's hiding something.

"So, uh, so you're done work, huh?" he asked as she looked around. Most of the big room was open space. In one corner near the street side windows, there was an empty easel and a drawing board that faced out into the room. A lone stool stood nearby. Elizabeth imagined herself perched on it, naked, while Ray sat at the easel, painting her. The far end of the loft was his living area. There was a small kitchenette, a scattering of mismatched furniture and a box spring and mattress sitting directly on the floor.

"Yeah, done for the night," she said. There were a few of his big abstracts leaning against the wall. She walked over and squinted at them. The light was poor, the only illumination coming from a floor lamp near the bed and an articulated desk lamp clamped to the drawing table.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" she asked.

"No, I was doing some sketching."

She leaned down closer to one of the canvases. "This kind of looks like Kandinsky," she said.

"You know Kandinsky?"

She straightened her back and put her hands on her hips. "Not just a dumb whore, huh?"