Road-X-Trip Ch. 06

Olga points at a big stone, just twenty meters ahead of us. "You should start first then, I advise."

Without a word, she takes off running. I follow her lead and sprint behind her until I am in reach to grab her by the thigh and raise her from the ground. She gasps just before falling into my arms.

"I did not give you enough of a lead..." I taunt.

She does not answer. Crossing her arms, she makes a grumpy face.

"Come on! Don't be a sore loser," I joke while stepping on the rock. "Here! We've reached it both at the same time." I drop Olga on her feet. She embraces me, then raises her chin. She has got a stern look on her face.

"Kiss me..." she whispers.

I caress her cheek. Her skin is so soft. Her color has changed since we've stayed on the top of the mountain. Under her freckles, her epiderma has shifted to a red-orange tone, contrasting with her deep blue eyes. I lean over her. Our lips touch, then our tongues tie themselves together. We share a long kiss. Around us, everything is so peaceful. Time seems to have stopped...

After a while, we jump from the rock to the ground and keep on walking. I want to enjoy this moment, though a burning question does not leave my mind at peace. "What do you think about this guy... Boss?"

"What do you mean by that?" she asks back.

"Well... How do you feel about him? Isn't he a bit odd?"

It takes her a few seconds to answer. "He made quite an impression on me. I don't really know how to describe what I felt but... I thought he was very attractive."

"Oh, how come?"

"It's hard to say. There were many things intertwined. His funny business, his voice, the way he speaks and... his manners." She pauses. "His confidence, did you feel it too?"

"Yes..."

"It kind of exited me, to say the least."

"I noticed that. He really liked you too, I think. His eyes were all over your body."

"Oh..." she sighs.

Olga and I are really open to each other. We share our feelings and are often on the same page when it comes to the people we like. And we love spicing our sex life up when we meet someone who both turns us on. This Bossmanian guy has awaken Olga's desires. I sense it to her tense voice.

"Would you like to go further with him?" I ask.

"Ha... why not? If the opportunity presents itself."

Why not indeed? A part of me is asking this question, but the other has already decided: presented to Bossmanian's powerful aura and burning sexual energy, my subconscious has not stopped bombarding me with sultry images of the three of us.

"I think I want it too," I finally state.

"Did you picture him doing things with me?" Olga inquiries.

Well, it would be foolish to hide it. "Yes... Even the three of us."

"Describe it to me..."

"I saw you kneeling before our throbbing cocks..."

"Ha... please continue..."

"Then I imagined us spit roasting you..." I add, stopping there.

Olga utters a faint moan of content. "Let's go and have this drink. Who knows what will happen afterwards!" she exclaims, laughing.

***

"Here!" Olga calls out. "Look at the board, Richard, on our left!"

I could have hardly missed the entrance of the hotel resort. Flanking a side path to the main road, a fancy board with the words "Mount Washington Hotel" written on it indicates that we've just arrived. I drive onto a wooden bridge crossing a small river surrounding the estate. In front of us, the road winds through a green lawn. At its end, the massive white building caped with red tiles is already in sight.

We drive for a few minutes across the meadow. The hotel grows in height as we approach, but the mountain, right behind it, stays completely still. As we start climbing the hill, rounding the hotel, we cannot help but to inspect its balconies and windows, its chimneys and colonnades. We're astonished by the magnificence of the place.

But I guess our European eyes are very much tricked: as kids, Olga and I visited the most splendid French castles, those of Chambord and Chenonceau... I think this building reminds me of them. And with Olga sticked to the window, maybe she does too. How strange it is for the mind to realize that humans still construct castles nowadays.

We stop on a slightly remote parking area, bordered by a tree line. It's already quarter to seven. In fact, between the longer than expected walk down Mount Washington and a well-deserved rest, we haven't noticed time flying. While Olga dresses up, I prepare a bag with our stuff.

"Come on, hurry up Olga or we'll be late."

"It's alright! He will not leave for such a small delay," she shouts back from the inside of the car. "Where do you want him to go anyway?"

Well, that is a valid argument. But, from the size of the hotel, I wouldn't bet on finding him if he's not waiting us at the entrance lobby. I come out onto the parking and lean back on the vehicle. A path goes deep into the trees, only a dozen meters in front of me. I wait a few more minutes. Well, we'll be late for sure so... let's see what happens.

At last, Olga walks down the stairs of the camper. She wears a loose turtleneck pullover made of white wool that she tucked here and there under the waistband of a short high waist skirt of black color. High-class and... damn sexy. I thought a jean and a shirt would do fine... She is making me look completely out of her league.

Olga crosses her arms on the back of my neck. "You're so handsome with this shirt," she coos. "It enhances your large shoulders. That's exciting..."

"You're looking good too." I press her back against the motorhome and caress her hips wrapped in the skin-tight skirt. "We could as well go back in bed right now..." I murmur.

She squeezes her body against mine and rolls her buttocks into my wandering hands. Her mouth closes in to my neck. She nibbles on my ear and whispers... "We're late, Richard." With a daring look, she pushes me back, showing a mischievous smirk on her face.

Oh... she wants to play that game. Very well. "All right. Close the camper then!" I say, throwing the keys in her direction.

She grabs them with the tip of her fingers, raising her eyebrows, puzzled by the tone of my voice. Then, she turns her back to me.

I move towards her. This time, I clutch the back of her neck and pin her to the vehicle outer wall. "Well, who got us late?" I gasp, ironical.

"Oh... surely not me..." she sighs, rolling her eyes.

With a push on her neck, I force her to bend over. My fingers slide down her buttocks. I grab them fiercely. "Who then?"

She knows the consequences of what she is about to say. "Maybe... Richard?"

I press her cheek against the door and spank her gently. "Wrong."

My fingers run one last time around her waist before I let her go. "Enough foreplay!" I state. "We're really late now."

"You! Do not lower your guard, otherwise..." she says with a challenging tone while setting her hair straight.

"Yes, sure!" I mockingly wink at her.

This time, Olga locks up the camper and shove the keys in her backpack. I offer my hand as a sign of reconciliation. She hesitates. Is she really offended?

"You know I'm playing with you," I inquire.

Olga stares at me with her sweet round eyes. If I had to forgive her, she would not have to do anything else but to look at me with this adorable look to achieve her ends. At last, she cuddles me. "It's alright... I still love you!" she settles.

I grab her hand as we slowly climb up the parking hill. From here, the hotel is even more impressing. It is unreasonably tall. Despicably large. Casting its threatening shadow over us. I'm amazed and repulsed at the same time. Breath-taken. I picture it swallowing us, devouring our souls as we step inside. This thought runs chills of shared fright and excitement down my spine.

We walk by the right wing of the hotel. A dense vine covers the stone wall. I notice the other buildings of the resort, spreading all over the hill. Through the huge windows of the ground floor, I glimpse at a grand hall, then a restaurant. Luxurious cars are parked alongside the building. We reach the entrance: a semi-circular structure of pillars protruding from the main facade, roofed with the same red tiles than anywhere else on the hotel. I search for Bossmanian. Olga climbs up the stairs. She takes a look inside, through the wide-open doors. He's not there. We shrug our shoulders.

"Let's ask at the receptionist," I suggest.

We step inside the main hall. To our left stands an imposing reception, built as a recess in the lobby's wall. Arcades surmount two big white counters separated with a central pillar. Four symmetrically arranged lamps shed a dim light over the two receptionists wearing beige uniforms. The room where they stand is covered with a striped white and apple green wallpaper. Hanging on the walls, gilt framed paintings depict the region's landscapes.

Olga leans on the desk. "Hello. We are to meet Mr. Bossmanian! Do you happen to know where we could find him?"

The employee nods and raises a finger while he rummages through his stuff. Behind him, the immense key cabinet may contain at least four hundred boxes. "Welcome. You must be Olga and Richard?"

"Indeed, it is us," I say.

"Mr. Bossmanian is waiting for you at the lounge bar. He asked me to guide you there. Please follow me." He leads us into a long hall whose central aisle is lined with a colonnade. On each side, period sofas and chairs are set in small groups, laying on large flowered design carpets. Halfway through, we pass by a stuffed moose head topping the hearth of a burning fireplace. A few guests are sitting and discussing. We walk silently behind the receptionist, feasting our eyes with the hotel's splendor.

We finally enter a circular room with an even higher ceiling and lighted with shining chandeliers. On one side, wide bay windows offer a stunning view of the surrounding area. In the center stands a sober designed bar. The place is crowded with a chic and distinguished clientele. Almost every table is taken already. Although surprisingly, the ambient noise is quite low. The man shows us to the window side. There we see Bossmanian, sitting legs crossed on an armchair. He has noticed us as well.

"Mr. Boss, your guests have arrived," the employee announces.

He stands up to greet us. "Here you are. Welcome to the Mount Washington Hotel," he declares, speaking French obviously. His voice's tone is calm and deep. He continues. "Thank you, Daniel. Olga, Richard, have a seat please."

He points at an off-white velvet divan, set in front of him. We sit down comfortably with Olga, next to each other.

"What are you drinking?" Olga wonders.

"This is Cognac." While answering, Bossmanian raises an arm. Immediately, a waiter comes forth. He's wearing a white shirt with a bow tie and a crimson jacket.

"What do these lady and gentleman want to drink?" he asks.

"Hum... I don't really know. Do you have a menu?" Olga questions back.

"Oh... Usually, our guests know what they want. But I can bring a card, yes," the waiter replies on a honeyed tone.

"No, don't bother. I know what I want! I will have a gin tonic."

"And I'll have what the mister is having. Cognac, please," I add confidently.

"I have James Hennessy or Louis Royer X.O."

"Well..." I utter hesitantly. I couldn't choose either of them. I don't know anything about cognac! The only thing I know for sure is that they both sound very expensive.

"Royer! Don't be foolish! The fact that you serve this Hennessy fraud is really pissing me off! I'll have a word about this with Mr. Rupstein," Bossmanian answers in my place with a furious growl.

"Very well, Mr. Boss." The waiter turns round and buzzes off as if he had seen a wild animal. He's the second employee who's calling Boss by his name. Do they all know him?

"So! How did your walk down the mountainside go?" he asks, crossing fingers under his chin.

I ogle at Olga. She too must be remembering our discussion about Bossmanian... who is already gazing at her with the same bestial stare as earlier.

"It went well! We weren't prepared to walk for that long, though," Olga responds.

"Yes, that is why I take the train now," Bossmanian reacts. "The first times, I climbed up and walked down the mount by foot. It would take me the whole day."

"Oh, do come here often?" I inquiry. "You seem to be a regular, around here."

"The owner, Mr. Rupstein, is a collaborator and a close friend of mine. I come here to take some time for myself... and for business too. After all, the Mount Washington Hotel is a historical place of negotiations and economic diplomacy..."

Bossmanian keeps on displaying his knowledge about the neighboring area while the waiter comes back with our drinks. We raise them for a toast. His voice is like a stretched line which guides us. We're like hanged to his lips. He talks about the first ascents of Mount Washington. Also, he seems to know the fauna from around here very well. Now I better understand his interest for the wildlife pictures up there.

Olga is very happy to talk about birds with a fellow connoisseur. He then asks numerous questions about us, about our studies and our careers. Little by little, we open to him. Bossmanian and I order another cognac. He wants to know how we met. While sipping her cocktail, Olga recounts this crazy night, two years ago from now. He's very curious about it. And even if he keeps a very reserved and controlled stance, he is less stolid. He seems to hold back his emotions less than before. I dare to ask him something more personal.

"And what about you? Do you have somebody in your life?"

Hearing my question, Bossmanian diverts his attention from Olga's mouth and raises his chin. He remains silent for a few seconds. It is exactly like before, at Mount Washington! As if he was brainstorming about whether he could tell such a thing to us.

"A lover, yes. A woman as beautiful as you are, Olga," he finally declares, making her blush. "We work together from time to time," he continues. "Though we're being too distant from each other. Our relationship is an endless back and forth. This is nothing but an adventure, really."

"Don't you want to move in together?" I ask.

"Oh no, you misunderstood me. We already live under the same roof. But our lifestyle is very different. Too different. I'm not the ideal husband, really."

"What do you mean by that?" Olga wonders.

"I drift according to the people I meet. I could never settle anywhere or with any who... I act spontaneously. That's how I chose to live."

And now he finally confides in us. We keep on talking about relationships, love and affairs. Bossmanian calls the waiter back. I feel slightly drunk already, but we order another cognac nonetheless. Olga joins us, this time.

One thing leading to another, we bring the subject of our open relationship. We share some of our experiences, the alcohol helping to lose inhibitions. We confide in him a few fantasies, though avoiding to mention the sexual drive we felt toward him earlier.

There is something odd with how he handles the conversation. In the way, almost a professional one, in which he asks questions, one after the other, each more specific than the one before. As if these subjects were very usual for him to discuss. As if he had countless interactions of this sort before.

He does not seem as affected as we are by the alcohol. Maybe he has developed an accustoming to it? Or maybe I am drunk and does not even realize if he is in the same state as I am right now.

Olga is a little tipsy, that's for sure. Trying to remove her pullover, she struggles and wiggles her chest, arms stuck halfway down the sleeves of the clothing, face covered in fabric. Her breasts, wrapped in a light-colored tank top, which lets little to the imagination, bounce from left to right as she shakes her body in vain. The deep neckline of the garment reveals her shapely cleavage. I ogle at Bossmanian, who is clearly enjoying the view. Grabbing a hold of the sweater, I finally help Olga to get rid of it. She tosses it to the side and asks him another question.

"What are your fantasies, Boss?" she ventures. The words feel odd and funny coming out of her mouth after the scene we've just witnessed. But Bossmanian answers very seriously.

"I have no fantasies. Only urges" he replies, considering our puzzled faces. He continues, talking directly to Olga. "Do you sometimes long for someone you've run into or who you've just met?"

"It happens, yes," Olga answers.

"Would you like to jump the stages and be intimate with him without delay?"

"Well sometimes... I think of this," she whispers.

"Would you want him to embrace you? Fantasizing no more. Just doing it, simply and purely.

"Ah... I..." This time she only utters a sigh.

"Are you excited by the thought of being handled and used... Offering yourself fully?

Olga does not answer. Instead, she gazes at Bossmanian with half-opened lips and pleading eyes. She's like stunned. As if he had clawed his hold on her, seized a part of her being. I lay a hand on her thigh, ready to move on to another subject.

"Yes, I do," she finally answers.

"Yes... to what?" Bossmanian insists.

"Yes, I would take pleasure if a stranger disposed of me and used me for his sole enjoyment..."

She holds my hand tight.

"Is this what you call urges, Boss?" she adds.

"I know nothing else but them. They've always overwhelmed my body. And they still do right now."

My head is spinning. I try to keep track of the conversation. Now is my turn to dive head first.

"Earlier, we felt a very special sensation after you left us," I declare.

Bossmanian stares at me. He seems to understand what I mean.

"Would you like to sleep at the hotel, tonight?" he asks. "I will have a room prepared for you. Of course, you are my guests."

We look at each other, unsettled by this new development. Olga timidly nods. A smile growing on her face.

"Erm... why not?" I stutter.

"Yes..." Olga adds, affected.

"Then, if you want to follow me, I could show you around the hotel before leading you to the room," Bossmanian proposes. "We could even stop at the Cave and play pool. What do say about that?"

"Of course, we would be glad," I answer, speaking for the both of us.

Bossmanian empties his drink before getting up. We follow him towards the exit of the lounge. Suddenly I stop.

"Do we not check out at the bar?" I ask Bossmanian.

"Richard, in this hotel, everything I or my guests drink is on the house. This is part of the many perks I get from being friends with the owner..." he replies, nonchalant.

"Oh, alright!" I scratch my head. We cross the main hall in the reverse direction and go down a large circular staircase. Then we walk along another bay window, this time overlooking Mount Washington. Several employees greet Boss as we pass.

A little further on, we take a narrower corridor extended by another passage cut in the rock. What an abrupt change of style! We emerge in a bar with a vaulted ceiling in red bricks. Stone walls. Wood and leather furniture. The atmosphere is different here, warm and lively. Two televisions are broadcasting an American soccer game. "The Cave" lives up to its name.

We approach the massive counter in glossy wood. Behind the bartender, a shelf crusts under a plethora of alcohols bottles. Boss turns to us. "This is a very good cocktail bar. I recommend you try one."

"I feel that I have already drunk a lot..." I say, hesitating.

"Me too," adds Olga. "Can we have one to share?"

After a few seconds of reflection and on the advice of our host, we order two Negroni. One for us and one for Boss, who has grabbed the billiard cues and is already approaching the table.

Shortly after, I break the first set of balls. We play several games. Olga seems to have a lot of fun despite our poor level. Boss is doing a little better. Pool may well be another one of his favorite activities...