Traffic Girl - Katie Ch. 03

"Have you ever smoked a cigar, Crystal?" Stephen asked her.

"Never," she said.

"Do you want to try a puff?" he said.

"Sure!" Crystal said enthusiastically.

Stephen passed her the Hoyo de Monterrey Double Corona he had smoked about an inch-and-a-quarter off the seven-inch cigar.

"Don't do what I did," Francesca said. "And inhale. You just hold the smoke in your mouth. It's just a puff-puff-puff. Not like the marijuana."

"Oh, okay," Crystal said and put the cigar to her lips.

I could see her excitement, like she realized she was going to be touching something that Stephen's mouth had touched. I had seen a look like this before, on Kat's face when she first met Stephen. He had that way of mesmerizing the fairer sex. But Stephen wasn't the one showing interest in Crystal, and that's what surprised me. It was Francesca leering at her. It caught me off guard initially. I hadn't seen Francesca as a wild sexual being before. She was always so poised, bordering on reserved. She had never cut loose at any of the gatherings where I'd seen her. She had never even taken off a jacket or had a button out of order. But she was definitely undressing Crystal with her eyes.

But my attention was pulled away from that developing intrigue because Jeff put his arm around me.

"Man, I'm so looking forward to working with you," he said.

"I'm not going to lie, Jeff, this is kind of a shock," I said. "In the best way. I'll promise you won't have any hiccups."

"Let's get a line," he said casually, and we made our way over to the bar.

On the way, we had to squeeze past Kat and Rita, who were still being wooed by Ryan and Chris. Or maybe it was the other way around. Kat wasn't being subtle about letting her hand rest on the crotch of Ryan's suit. He whispered something to him, and she whispered back. Rita was bent down, taking a bump of coke that Chris offered her off the back of his hand. Jeff pushed me along toward the blow, but Rita grabbed my hand briefly as I went by and winked.

Jeff ponied up around the adjacent corner from Kat and Rita. There were a generous number of lines already cut on the mirrored surface that was built into the bar top. Jeff smiled, and I thought it was directed at me, but then I saw Alix standing four feet to my left. The top of her dress was down, and she was scooping cocaine onto her exposed tits. It delighted the two studio heads I recognized who were standing next to her, but it really drew Jeff's attention. He bent down and did two quick lines. I followed suit, noting that he hadn't taken his eyes off Alix for a moment, not even as the studio guys snorted the coke off her tits.

"She's one of the best," I said to Jeff. "Alix. I've known her a long time."

"Those nipple rings are unreal," he said.

"Looks like she's occupied, sadly," I noted.

"Ah, that's no real obstacle," Jeff said, flashing his grin again. "Do you want to make a bet with me?"

"Sure," I said.

"I'm going to talk to her -- you said her name's Alix?" he said.

"Alix," I said.

"I'm going to talk to Alix," Jeff said, "and I'll bet you five-hundred bucks that in two minutes? You'll be talking to those studio figureheads while I play around-the-world with the chick."

"A gambling man, huh?" I said.

"Always," Jeff said.

"Me, too," I said. "I'll take that action. It'll take more than two minutes."

"No, it won't," he said and patted me on the shoulder as he walked past.

And Jeff was right. It didn't even take a minute. I don't know what he had said, but all it took was a few words, a smile, and Alix, still topless, took his offered hand and disappeared with him down a hallway that led to the downstairs bedroom. I met the two studio executives, which was awkward because I operated as a kind of competitor to them. My financing efforts allowed production companies like Petey's to get movies made without the backing of a big studio. So we made a little small talk, and I looked around the room for a lift boat to relieve me of entertaining them any further.

It came a couple minutes later. Riley had extricated herself from Juliet's cuddle circle and, when she found me, hurled her body against mine.

"I can't be rolling on molly and just snuggle with a bunch of girls," she said, rubbing her hands on the silky fabric of the vest under my suit jacket.

"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" I said. "And I could also find some way to thank you for saving me from those two studio stiffs."

"I've never been someplace where I feel like just another person," Riley said. "Wait, that sounds egotistical. I mean, I can't remember being somewhere that no one gave a shit who I am."

"I get it," I said. "That's the whole point of the club. This is what Jess wanted. People who are famous like you? Well, no one is famous like you."

Riley interrupted, taking me by surprise by holding my chin with her hand and planting her lips on mine. It was brief.

"Go on," she said, beaming.

"Jess's big idea was to create something so private and exclusive, that it wouldn't matter if you or Stephen or Jeff show up," I said. "You could chase your greatest desires without any fear of rumors or anything but the utmost privacy. That's the whole point. The fantasy becomes reality. It overtakes it."

"You should put that in a brochure," Riley said, her hands running up and down my chest again.

"I think it's on the website," I quipped.

"I heard there's a room here with a secret coke compartment underneath a table top of something," she said.

"They're in the bedrooms," I said. "Very, very secret."

"Do you think you could show me?" she said.

"Maybe," I said.

"I bet I could convince you," she said.

"I'd like to see you try," I said.

"Will you pretty please show me?" she begged, batting her eyelashes.

I was transfixed by her. I didn't even notice Kat and Rita walk past me with the two hulking movie stars, headed upstairs together.

"I don't think you want to see the secret coke," I said. "I think you were tired of playing with just girls."

"I've never been one to play with girls much," she said.

"I'm surprised," I said. "I'm sure you could control them, make you do whatever you want."

"It's more fun to control a man," she said.

"Is that because you like the power?" I said, then paused for dramatic effect. "Or because you like cock?"

"Can't it be both?" Riley said, her trademark red-painted lips getting closer to me.

"Do you want to see that secret mirror?" I said.

"That's what started this," Riley said. "Lead the way."

It would be fair to say that I wasn't as intimated by Riley as most men would be. The only reason for that was given my experience with Juliet. But, I had to admit, being alone in a bedroom with Riley was not without its intimidating factors. The biggest factor in play was that Riley was as confident and composed in private as she was on stage in front of 100,000 people.

I took her to the bedroom at the back of the house. We walked inside, and I closed the door behind us. The light was especially soft, thanks to a red scarf that had been draped over the lone lamp that was turned on. Riley pulled off her gloves and tossed them onto a deep, high-backed armchair. She stretched her arms out in front of her, then pulled them back to sweep off the headband she wore before shaking out her hair.

While she made herself at home, I walked over to the tablet that sat on the wall.

"Is this it?" Riley said, pointing to the circular, lacquered wood-topped coffee table in front of the armchair.

"Yes," I said. "Watch this."

I navigated the tablet's menus with familiarity, and a few seconds later, there was the whirr of an electric motor, followed by the robotic sound of the tabletop lowering two inches and then retracting. Ten seconds after that, a motor whirred again, and a shiny mirror clicked into place, catching the reddish light of the lamp nearby. Like magic, the mirror already had a silver bowl covered by a carbon fiber card on top of it. The bowl, of course, contained cocaine. In slim trenches lining the mirror, there sat a handful of Jess's custom, crystal straws.

"That is the coolest fucking thing I've ever seen," Riley said.

She immediately got on her knees in wonderment. She plucked the card off the bowl and smiled at the improbably fluffy powder beneath it. She used a delicate, manicured nail to pull out one of the straws and held it up to the light. The red tinge seemed to make her lipstick glow as she stared at the crystal cylinder, admiring the frosted engraving.

"Classy, right?" I said, striding calmly over to the table.

"If you ever doubted cocaine was classy, this would make you eat your words," she said.

"Try it," I said, reaching Riley's side and kneeling down next to her.

She took the corner of the card and scooped out some coke. She repeated the movement four times, then tapped it on the mirror. She smoothly racked up four lines, tapped the card again, and licked the side.

"I'm afraid to ask where you guys get this shit," she said. "I've never even heard of people getting blow this pure."

"Maybe one day we'll let you in on the secret," I teased.

"Honestly, as long as I keep getting some? I'm cool," she said with a laugh.

Then she put the crystal straw up her nose and the powder flew up the shaft.

"Ugh, god!" she said, shaking her head from side to side.

But then she bent down again and repeated the action for the other side. She ran her finger across the mirror and rubbed the excess on her gums.

"That's just, fuck," she said, holding her nose briefly to savor the rush. "That's just so fucking good."

She held the straw to me, and I followed her lead. The coke hit hard and fast, like stepping out from a warm house into the cold air of winter. It blasted me with a shot of confidence, and I realized very quickly the unique circumstance I was in. I was with Riley. Alone. In a bedroom. And she was staring at me. She was staring at me with expectation. Then she licked her lips.

"What's your endgame?" I said, smiling at her.

"Isn't it more fun to play the game and find out?" Riley replied, rising up on her knees and then sliding into the armchair.

"Fuck around and find out?" I said.

She spread her legs, pulling her flapper dress up her hips. She wore black stockings, and I could see the opaque tops of the thigh-highs as the hem rose.

"Something like that," she said. "Although isn't it more fun to take a long and winding rode to the 'fuck'?" she said.

"I said 'fuck around,'" I reminded her. "That encompasses quite a bit."

I knew Riley well enough by this point that I presumed the symbolism of her being in the chair while I remained on the floor. Such a huge part of her ethos was about power -- power games, power struggles, achieving power -- I was happy to play along. I'd never played with Riley alone, and she never seemed to do anything on a whim. I presumed there was a purpose to this. So, yeah, I was ready to fuck around and find out.

So I crawled the couple feet over to her, kneeling between her legs. I ran my hands up her calves, toned and supple, and rested them on her knees. She spread her thighs even more, and I caught my first glimpse of her soft, pale upper thighs. And her pussy. She wasn't wearing panties. I stared at her compact mound, her lips barely perceptible because they were so taut and pushed up inside her. I glanced up at her heart-shaped face, her eyes gazing down on me fiercely. She didn't need to tell me what she wanted. I knew. I had played this game before.

Without saying anything, I just lowered my head into her lap. Riley smelled fresh and good. I felt the skin of her inner thighs on my cheeks. It was incredibly soft. She readjusted her position in the chair, raising her left leg high and throwing it over the arm. At the same time, she scooted her butt down closer to the edge of the seat, pushing my head deeper between her legs and allowing her thighs to squeeze my temples. Power games. But Riley didn't know she was playing to my strengths.

I inhaled deeply.

"You smell so good," I said, my words muffled because she squeezed her thighs around my head.

Riley only moaned softly in response. My tongue flicked out for the first time, but her firm grip on me meant that the soft, wet muscle made contact at the bottom of her pussy. The first lick lubricated her. The second allowed me to push inside her a couple inches. The third lick let me taste her. And Riley was wet. Very wet. And tasted incredibly sweet. It was unfair, honestly, for a woman so famous, so powerful, so smart, and so beautiful to also have a pussy that tasted like nectar. I was persistent in my movements, pushing deeper into her and forcing my head higher to allow better access to her slit. She understood, or at least she relented the grip of her thighs on my skull, and I gave a long lick from just above her asshole to the hard nub of her clit.

She gasped.

"Fuck, that feels so, so good," she groaned.

That was all the encouragement I needed. I loved exploring a vagina for the first time, and it is a simple fact that Riley's was beautiful. Given her girl power front, I was half-expecting her to keep a bush of pubic hair, but she was perfectly waxed. It was my favorite, so I appreciated it. It made my job easier. I could probe every tiny crevice, creating a mental map of her intimate anatomy. I swirled my tongue around her clit, then sucked it lightly into my mouth. She gasped again. Then I flattened my tongue and licked her clit up and down several times in a row. She squeezed her thighs tightly against my head again.

But I took back some of the power. I slid my hands up the sides of her legs, then underneath her ass and cupped her cheeks, digging my fingers into the firm flesh that certainly resembled the sweet curves sported by the cheerleaders Riley loved to rail against in her music. I pulled her closer to me, and she yelped at the unexpected movement. Her head fell back, exposing her neck, but I had tunnel vision. I was going to eat her cunt until she was squirming and begging me to stop. I pulled up with my hands, drawing her pussy firmly against my mouth, and I started a relentless pattern of licking and swirling that put her on a runway to bliss.

I hadn't enjoyed giving oral sex this much in a hot minute. Part of it was a new pussy. Part of it was who my partner was. And part of it was fueled by my arrogance -- I knew I was a star at eating a girl out. I knew Riley would be surprised at how much my efforts took out of her when I was finished, and I relished that. She had no idea what was coming. If I was going to turn the tables in this power game, this was the very best chance I had to do it.

Riley didn't fight me. She seemed to enjoy my efforts as much as I did. And she didn't hold back. She flung her other leg over the chair's arm, and she raised her hips up and down in rhythm with my ministrations. I zeroed in on her clit, pushing her to a first orgasm. I felt her juices dripping off my chin, and it fleetingly went through my mind that I was glad the chair was leather and not fabric. Riley got wetter and wetter. I didn't relent after she came, not for a second. I just kept pressing harder and harder. She couldn't speak, not coherently. And then I pushed a finger inside her, and that set her off a second time.

There wasn't even the hint of hair on her cunt. It truly was a perfect wax job. I wondered how much it cost and who did it, and I briefly imagined my wives and Riley and Crystal and Bianka all lined up getting waxed together. I smiled faintly at the thought and got back to work. I wasn't going to stop until Riley insisted she couldn't take it anymore. This was one of my power games. I wanted to know if she could take a relentless oral assault, if she could surrender herself to the pleasure it would afford.

Fifteen minutes later, Riley reached that point. She was almost turned sideways in the armchair at that point, and she was filling the room with a series of panting screams as her fourth orgasm peaked. My face was a sticky mess. Her thighs glistened with her juices, which flowed from her pussy like sweet lava.

"Stop! Stop!" Riley said, her voice uncharacteristically shrill. "Jesus fuck, John, what the fuck did you do to me?"

I didn't say anything. I just propped myself up by the elbows on the seat of the armchair and grinned at her.

"Wipe that grin off your face," she said. "Don't be smug."

"You're welcome," I said, breaking my silence.

Riley straightened up. The hem of her dress pushed down again, and she had a glassy look on her face. I stood up, and she held out her hands. I took them and helped her up. She put her face close to mine but then backed off a bit.

"Do you mind," she said and made a wiping motion.

"You don't want to taste yourself?" I said, grinning again. "Because you are delicious. Really delicious. Seriously. I didn't want to stop."

"It just feels weird," she said.

"Try it sometime," I said.

"I don't know," she said.

I popped into the bathroom and rinsed my face, drying it with a fluffy hand towel. When I returned, Riley had stripped out of her dress and lay on the bed. She had just started to roll down the stocking on her left leg when I walked up to her.

"Don't," I said. "Leave them on."

"Kinky," Riley said.

"Hardly," I said.

She had propped herself up on her elbows, her breasts hanging invitingly. They were bigger than you would have expected, perfect, large B-cups that were capped with nipples that could have been created by a Renaissance sculptor. Her stomach was flat and toned but not too muscular. Her hair dangled over her shoulders, and those red lips called to me. I took the last two steps forward to position myself between her legs. She closed her legs around me, drawing me closer to her but also allowing herself to sit up.

"Take your jacket off," she instructed.

I complied, tossing it aside.

"And the vest," she said.

I undid the three buttons and shrugged it off and then threw it on top of the jacket.

"And the shirt," she said.

As I worked on the buttons, Riley put her hands against my belt. She slipped a finger underneath the two overlapping layers of leather and gave it a tug to her right, undoing the buckle. She pulled the belt through the loops that held it in place rapidly and dramatically, as if she was trying to crack it before she let it fall to the floor. I pulled my arms through the shirt and let it crumple to the ground just as she unbuttoned my pants and pushed down the zipper. Her red lips were parted by about an inch, just enough to let me see her whitened teeth. She put her hands inside the waistband of my pants on either side and shucked them to the ground, her face at eye level with my crotch.

"Not yet," she whispered as she ran her hands over my stomach and up my chest.

"Take your time," I said. "It's not like you won't still be wet."

"You're very self-confident, John," Riley said.

"I'm sure you're well-attuned to that trait," I said.

"I am," she said. "I think it's attractive."

She leaned forward and kissed me, just below the belly button. I ran my hands through her hair, just above either ear and down the back of her neck. I let them linger on her shoulders.

"I really loved eating you out," I said.

"It was nice," she said. "I have to confess. I don't usually like getting oral."

"I find that hard to believe," I said.

"It feels submissive to me," she said.

"I can see that," I said. "It doesn't mean it won't feel good."

"I'm just selective about who gets to do it," she said. "You're the first in a long time who wasn't Henry."

"I'm flattered," I said.

"It just means I feel comfortable with you," she said.

Her hand finally slipped inside the waistband of my boxers, but she continued her slow tease. She didn't go for my cock right away. She just traced her fingers around the edges of my crotch.