Warren's Women 02byParis Waterman©
Jasmine, Part 2
Warren left the elevator and entered the lobby. Glancing at his Rolex, he found it was four-thirty and the onset of Manhattan's rush hour exodus was underway. He thought about stopping for a drink if she was a no show and didn't hear her approach from behind.
"Got a match handsome?"
Gracefully, he pivoted around and held a cigarette lighter out to her face.
"Just kidding, Warren," Jasmine said, giggling. Inwardly she admired his poise.
He shrugged and said, "I've always wanted to do that. Saw it in a movie somewhere, 'Captain Gallant' maybe."
"Was there ever such a movie?" she smiled seemingly on the verge of giggling hysterically like a preteen.
"Ahh, I dunno," and almost dreamily he added,
"Maybe, maybe it was something else. But it was either Errol Flynn or Tyrone Power." Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he asked,
"Oh, yes," and Jasmine took his extended arm in hers and they left the building.
Minutes later they were seated side by side in a booth in a quiet Chinese restaurant, poring over huge red menus. He peered over the menu at her and said, "God you're something. You really are something."
"Changing your mind?"
Warren's expression grew somber and he turned away from her, staring out at the bar.
"Warren, you're making this a sad, bleak date. It doesn't have to be that way."
Her hand rested on his and he turned and looked at her.
"We've still got most of tonight. His flight gets in at seven-thirty AM." Jasmine said in a quietly plaintive voice.
Unconsciously Warren began stroking his leg, not too far removed from his crotch.
"Want me to help you out there?" Jasmine smiled as if joking, but licked her lips all the same.
"It... it got to me that's all," he said like a stubborn child. Still, he continued to drift closer to his member. She shifted and moved a little closer to him in the booth.
"What is it the French say? "To say goodbye is to die a little.""
"Ohhh, don't talk that way, you'll make me cry." She feigned a pout, and said "And I'm wearing at least two pounds of mascara. Please... take pity on me."
He laughed, sipped his drink and carefully put it down precisely on the watermarked circle in the middle of his coaster. "Don't you go getting emotional on me," he said. "I've got all I can handle controlling myself."
"I won't Warren," she said softly.
The waiter stood by unobtrusively until they became aware of his presence and they ordered. The ordered enough for six people even though they weren't hungry at all. The large quantity of food served to detract from the emotional roller coaster both were riding.
Suddenly Warren burst out with, "What about me Jazz, how about the way I feel?"
"Warren..." was all she could say without losing control.
His hand moved deftly to her inner thigh, lighting a fuse within her. He remembered earlier, happier times and trying to recapture them moved his other hand up until he felt the curve of her breast. Jasmine turned slightly so that it rested against his palm. His other hand pressed against her mons and she trembled slightly.
"Did you know Warren, I knew you were going to be a great lay the first time I saw you?"
Her thighs parted to grant him greater access to do whatever he wanted to do with her.
"Oh?" he said startled. Jasmine seldom acted in an uninhibited fashion.
"You mean you wanted me to give you the old little of this, a little of that and a lot of calimar before a proper introduction was made?"
She was still laughing at his remark when the waiter approached and began serving their food. As they sampled their fare, Jasmine thought back to that first time.
Her husband had insisted she accompany him to a dinner honoring a colleague who was moving to Memphis. She hadn't known it would be a roast. Warren had been a sensation in berating the guest of honor with what were obviously carefully constructed, piercing, almost diabolical jabs about his sex drive and preferences. To her surprise, everyone, including the guest of honor, loved his performance.
"Want to meet him?" Her husband asked.
"The guest of honor?" she replied.
"No, gracious no." He pointed toward the Master of Ceremonies. "Warren, the young man who ripped Jeffery to pieces and made him love it. He'll get a promotion out of this. No one else had the gumption to do it."
"He sounds like an interesting person." Jasmine said, taking another look at him, a longer, introspective look. That's when she first thought he'd be a great lay, even before she'd met him.
His hand cupped her mound again; his finger idly traced her dampened folds beneath the dress. She put her napkin down after carefully dabbing at her mouth.
"Would you like me to suck you right here Warren?" Her voice had gone husky.
"Yes, but first tell me how you knew I was going to be a great lay." Her legs were spread a little wider now and his finger pushed harder against her, denied access only by the material of her dress. She grimaced, knowing a wet spot might be evident on rising from the table.
"Just a moment darling," and glancing around the room to ensure no one was watching, she took the napkin and shoved it under her dress and sat on it, hoping it would absorb whatever leaked from her while Warren had his way.
"You fooled me there. Please, lift up again. I've got something for you," he said half-seriously. She complied with his request and seconds later thrilled to the touch of his finger entering her.
"Whew! That was quick."
"I'm known far and wide for never missing an opportunity," he said in a poor imitation of Bogart. "Just a second, I think you're gonna have a bit more company sweetheart," and two more fingers joined the first.
"Just don't try to get your whole damn arm in there Bogey baby," Jasmine said, shifting her behind to allow him a better angle.
Switching to an equally poor Jimmy Stewart, he countered with, "J... J... Jus... Just don... don't crush muh hand with that nutcracker. Now, now be real careful... you're playin' with dynamite there."
Her eyes closed as he reached a point where his fingers seemed to be everywhere. And his thumb... his thumb was toying with her clit.
Quickly, she picked up his napkin and bit down on it to stifle a moan. He felt her thighs quivering and knew she was close, and intensified his actions.
"Talk to me baby," he said; his brow covered with perspiration. "Tell me how you knew."
She fought off her climax momentarily and answered him. "Didn't you?"
"Confused, Warren said, "Didn't I what?'
A moan escaped her lips and she was furious at the betrayal. Her faced reddened as she realized she was now the focal point of several other patrons. One young couple she was positive could actually see Warren's hand moving in and out of her.
Gritting her teeth, she spat out, "Think about fucking me...?"
"Uh no, but that was only... do you like this? This here?" He'd grazed her clit with his thumb and she couldn't hold off any longer. Her orgasm took over and she shook uncontrollably rocking the table, almost tipping it over.
Surprisingly, both recovered sufficiently enough to order dessert. And as they were leaving, an attractive blonde woman approached them and brazenly handed Warren her card, saying, "Call me."
She would have been disappointed to see him tear it up and let it fall to the pavement only two steps outside the restaurant while Jasmine tittered uncontrollably.
Six thirty-five AM:
As the morning light peeked in through the shades, Warren, barely conscious, blinked and then opened his eyes for good. He turned his head and saw Jasmine lying on her side. The sheet was down around her waist. As he admired the curve of her breast, he thought back to the night before and smiled. Then pulled the sheet up to her neck and smoothed it lightly on her back. Jasmine turned on her side, eyes closed. Moving closer, Warren wrapped his arms around her and gently placed his hand on one of her naked breasts. She reached up and, with equal gentleness removed it.
Her voice was soft gravel. "If you need a hand warmer, get your own."
"Okay," he said pleasantly, "I need a shower anyway," and he got up and walked into the bathroom.
"Don't use all the hot water, Warren," she called out before turning her face back into the comfortable goose feathered pillow and captured several more precious minutes of sleep.
Warren found the toothpaste in the drawer beside the sink; it was lying on top of her birth-control pills. He smeared some on her brush and stuck it in his mouth. Brushing rapidly, he glanced at the glazed shower door where she stood with her head tilted back, water beating on the front of her neck, a bar of soap in both hands between her breasts. She turned her shoulder to the stream and lathered her body carefully. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in her oversized white terry-cloth robe, then ran a wide-toothed comb through her hair. They moved toward each other automatically.
"Shall we begin the day with a..." he began.
She interrupted him by allowing her robe to fall open and put her palm on his cheek and kissed him lightly. He was admiring her midriff and tiny waist and the gentle curves of muscle around her belly when she placed her hands around his neck and applied sufficient pressure to compel his head down, down, down. The robe slipped from her shoulders and lay at her feet.
"Breakfast is served," she said gleefully, leaning back as far as she could as his hands cupped her firm behind and his hot breath mixed with the heat emanating from her pussy.
She ran her fingernails along his chest, down his stomach, down his hips to the top of his thighs. Warren groaned and lifted her up, thinking to himself; 'she's made of velvet and porcelain,' and buried his face in her pussy before carrying her to the bedroom and the rumpled bed.
Jasmine squatted above him; her trembling fingers clasped his cock firmly and placed it inside her. She was just gathering her rhythm when they both heard the sound of a door closing.
"He's home!" My God Warren, he's home!" Jasmine's croaked as her hand went to her mouth and she bit down on her fingers to keep from screaming.
Warren, with a full charge of adrenaline, vaulted off the bed, but caught his scrotum on the small metal railing at the foot of the bed. His momentum carried him into the middle of the room, but his balls were torn open and the pain he felt was unbelievably intense.
Undaunted, Warren kept going, scooping up his clothes, socks, and shoes before opening the window and leaping out to the ground ten feet below.
Warren realized he'd sprained an ankle, and badly at that, but hobbled nude to his car, opened the door, jammed his shorts into his crotch to stem the bleeding and drove off.
Back in the bedroom Jasmine threw her robe on the floor to cover the spots of blood there. Then she quickly lay back on the bed and feigned awakening as the bedroom door opened and her husband walked in.
"Good morning Jasmine. Sleeping in the nude?" he asked, curiously.
"It's the damn heat." She said, faking a yawn.
"First I opened the window, then I stripped. Nothing seemed to help. I'm glad you're home Richard. Now I know I'll sleep tonight."
"I don't understand," Richard said, puzzled. "Why not just turn up the A/C?
Everything began to unravel as Richard stepped around the bed to kiss her. There on the floor was a sizable trail of blood leading to the window that Jasmine had missed.
"You lying cunt," he spat out. And the rage swept over him. "Who?"
"What are you talking about?" Jasmine asked tensing up, still unaware of the bloody trail.
Richard started to slap her across the face, but caught himself. "Who are you whoring with?" He asked, his face was beet red and spittle had formed on his lips. He raised his arm again, but Jasmine warded him off by replying, "Warren. It was Warren."
"Warren?" Richard's arm dropped to his side.
"That little prick? Warren...the the guy who MC'd the roast?"
"Yes," she sobbed hoping he was over the worst of his anger.
"Get dressed," Richard ordered.
"Okay, okay, Richard. I'll get dressed. Would you...like coffee?"
"Get dressed and get out. I won't live with a whore," his face was livid with rage.
"Richard!" The alarm in her voice only served to inflame his anger more.
"Now! Get dressed or not, I don't care, but get out! Get out! Get out!"
Quickly Jasmine gathered several items in her arms and left the room.
She was in the kitchen, crying while pulling on her slacks and hoping her mascara wasn't smearing all over her face when she heard it. Later, she thought about that sound again and again. It wasn't a loud sound, more like a muffled thud, only she heard it twice. She finished pulling on her slacks, checked her face in the mirror and decided her makeup was satisfactory before walking to the bedroom and finding Richard sprawled across the bed, his head and left arm on the floor, eyes wide open, mouth agape. His face was blue and already turning darker. Richard had suffered a massive heart attack.
Jasmine screamed and screamed and screamed.
Eventually, the police broke down the door. They found her kneeling next to him, shaking with despair, her mascara trailing down her beautiful face.
Warren reached the emergency room driveway and managed to hobble from the car. In fact, he was struggling to pull on his pants when a guard spotted him and summoned help. The next thing Warren knew he was on a bed being hooked up to an intravenous feeder, with nurses and interns surrounding him. Several were talking to him at the same time.
"What happened to you?"
"What's your name?"
"Your health coverage is with whom?"
"How did this happen?"
"Get his temperature Grace."
"My God, I never saw one like that before."
"Shut up Bently."
"Are you suicidal?"
"Can you recall your Social Security Number?"
"Shut the fuck up, all of you!" Warren screamed at them out of pain and frustration, "Get my wallet, it's in my pants. Everything you need to know about me and my health coverage is in there.
Next...what happened is...embarrassing. I'd like anyone not directly involved with my treatment to get the hell out of here."
Several people left. Four remained.
"I think I tore my nuts off, but I'm not sure."
"Nurse get me set up to administer a shot for tetanus." A young doctor ordered, already making several vital decisions about the injury requiring treatment. "Now, Mister?" He said tersely and waited.
"Ammerman, Warren Ammerman. Christ, am I still bleeding like a stuck pig?"
"No, the compress has stopped the flow of blood and nature's doing its job by coagulating it."
"So far so good then," Warren muttered through clenched teeth."
"Actually, Mr. Ammerman, eight or ten stitches will put things to right again. It's more psychological than anything else."
"Well...in that case...Ya know Doc, I'll never forget the last thing my father ever said to me."
"What was that?" asked the doctor readying the syringe.
"Nor will I ever repeat it," Warren said, and then grimaced as the needle did its job.
The doctor laughed and said, "Your sense of humor is intact and that's good. I'd appreciate it if you stayed overnight."
"Well," Warren began in his W. C. Fields impersonation. "I'd rather be in Philadelphia."
The doctor laughed again and said, "It's not that serious, but moving around won't do you any good. Why not hang with us for the evening?"
"Sure Doc, why not."
"Here," said the doctor, "take two of these now, get some sleep and see how you feel when you wake up. Oh, there will be some pain later. That's why I want you to stay. Now rest up. Oh, I meant to tell you. You're not the first guy whose testicles I've had to stitch up. You're number three. Still, it's highly unusual. I'd wager all three of you were similarly involved tho."
"Probably so Doc," Warren managed, already drifting off and in another minute he was sleeping peacefully.
"Keep and eye on him. It's possible he may turn and aggravate the wound. We don't want that to happen, all right?"
"Yes, of course, doctor." And the nurse fussed around tucking the sheets in tightly around Warren until the doctor left. Then she sat down and watched him as he slept.
Warren opened his eyes and saw the nurse bent over tightening a shoelace. She was a pretty brunette, with a great figure, wonderful hips and shapely legs.
"Nice form," he said.
"Ohh!" You startled me. I thought you were sound asleep," she said, embarrassed at being caught that way.
"What's your name beautiful?" he asked, devouring her with his eyes.
"Ellen, err...Nurse Ellen Jacobi."
His eyes made her uncomfortable at first, but in seconds she was enjoying his gaze.
"It's a pleasure to wake up to someone as beautiful as you," he said, meaning every word.
Nurse Jacobi began to blush.
"Uhhh, Nurse, err, Ellen, uhhh a little problem here and he gestured toward the erection rapidly reaching maturity.
"Ohhh! The nurse said, not knowing exactly what to do.
"It's beginning to hurt. Can you stop it please?"
She decided he was right and approached the bed. After drawing the curtain closed around them, she reached out with her left hand and gripped his penis firmly and smacked the head lightly.
"Ow! Damn it, that hurt!"
"I...I'm sorry, that's what we're trained to do in this situation," she said lamely.
"No! That can't be the right procedure. I mean, normally yeah, I suppose that'd work, but right now you gotta think about my balls, uhhh, sorry, my testicles."
"Err, you're right. What do you suggest?"
Warren decided to take a chance. "Would you stroke it a little, maybe it'll subside and I can go back to sleep."
"No way," she said with emphasis, "No way."
"Ohhh," he groaned. "It hurts like hell. Help me out here, Ellen."
"It's Nurse Jacobi, Mr. Ammerman," she said, but took hold of his penis again and began to lightly jerk him off.
"That's it, God you're an angel of mercy, Nurse Jacobi."
"Hush up and let me finish," she said, a sheen of perspiration covered her forehead and a drop of sweat trickled down her nose as she concentrated on her mission of mercy.
"Lean forward a little Nurse Jacobi," he said hoarsely.
She bowed towards him and Warren licked the drop from her nose.
Suddenly the proximity to him and realization of what she was doing to him registered on her and she felt herself getting wet with the excitement. Her unoccupied hand moved downward to her loins and she began to press her palm against her mons.
Warren whispered something she didn't quite hear.
"What did you say Mr. Amm?"
"Warren. Call me Warren."
"Yes, well what did you say Warren?"
"I asked if you would suck me now?"
"I asked if you'd be kind enough to take me in that lovely mouth of yours and do me right. A little callimar as it were."
"Same as a blowjob."
"Come on Ellen, you'll do a great service to me," he pleaded his case quietly.
Ellen gazed down at his penis. 'His cock,' she said to herself. 'It's a wonderful cock and I have it all to myself...' And with that, her head lowered enough for her lips to close over his cockhead. She withdrew his cock from her mouth and kissed it passionately, then moved her mouth all over his fully erect cock.
"Oh, yes Ellen. That's my girl," he whispered in her ear, trying unsuccessfully to nip her earlobe.
Ellen squeezed his cock firmly and flicked her tongue at it as a snake would, licking its entire surface, giving it a glistening sheen. She tilted her neck back and admired her work before taking most of his cock into her mouth and sucking hard. Gradually, Ellen pulled her head back until Warren's cock popped softly from her mouth. Warren tried again to capture her earlobe. This time he succeeded, feeling Ellen shudder as he sucked and licked at it.