The Award

He didn’t know how long he had been staring vacantly across the lobby when his mind first registered the sight of her.  The paper that had kept him company during the coffee shop breakfast had played out its hand and he was at a loss for something to kill time.   It lay folded on the table next to him while he debated a fourth cup of coffee – and then there she was.

She entered through the doors at the far end of the wide atrium that formed the lobby and proceeded at a deliberate pace in his direction.  He wasn’t sure whether it was how she looked or how she moved that first caught his attention, but both were attention-worthy.  Describing how she looked would have to include words like statuesque or elegant.  How she moved, well “sweet as molasses”, as the ZZ Top song put it, was about as close to the mark as you could get without graphics.

It crossed his mind that the hell of being a writer was that you had to be able to reduce every experience to right words or you couldn’t say that you fully apprehended it. Just enjoying the pure sensual experience of watching this exceptionally pretty girl move through your field of vision didn’t seem to be permissible.

Her course bore to his right so that she presented him with her profile.  Her dark hair was drawn back into a fall that reached nearly to her shoulder blades.  It was done in an unaccountably soft way that made her seem business-like without the sense of severity.  The royal blue suit she was wearing fit her body like the proverbial glove.  It was a smooth line from her shoulders to her hemline that accentuated the fullness and shapeliness of her bust.

As she disappeared behind the escalator he was left staring at the spot he had last glimpsed her. 

“More coffee, sir?”

The waitress brought him back to the present.

“No … no.  I’ve had enough.  Just the check, please.”

He shook off the reverie as he went through the mechanics of settling his bill and turning his thoughts to his business.  His watch showed two minutes to 10 AM.  The booth opened in two minutes.  He’d go claim his invitation and decide what to do about the rest of the day.  It seemed that he should have more to look forward to on an important day like this.

How crazy is it that a writer of barely 30 summers has his first novel break into the top ten of the Best Seller lists?  How much crazier is it that a prestigious writers’ society is going to honor him with their top award?  Not runner up, not honorable mention, not even the “Most Promising New Author” Award, but the “Eric Spitzer Award for Literary Achievement.”  Precedent dictated that once a writer had a dozen or so critically-validated works to his credit, the selection committee would deign to entertain his candidacy for the honor.  The idea that a (so far) one-hit wonder would be standing on the dais tonight delivering a sparkling but appropriately humble acceptance speech was just too far-fetched to contemplate.

And all that was beside the fact that the paperback deal and the movie rights had already put him into the kind of financial shape that authors with many times his experience and reputation could only dream about.  Yeah, life is good.  But if it is that good, why is he here in the middle of the lobby of a strange hotel in a strange city alone with no clue what to do with himself?  A man of his achievements should be surrounded with adoring fans, maybe have an entourage of toadies, but surely at least have a girlfriend. 

There it was.  Best selling author or not, he was just a horny guy who was between relationships – ‘way between.  Now here he stands, the Lonely Guy.  He has everything but love.  And that bothered him even more than The Other Thing.

Keep that up and you’ll only be good for soap opera scripts.  He roused himself again and checked his watch.  Ten oh eight.  Alright, let’s go get the envelope and then …  go polish that speech some more.

He consulted the diagram and set off in the direction of the reception booth that had been set up to service the ceremony participants.  It was one of the lobby level meeting rooms.  He swung through the open door of the appointed room and was about to address the girl behind the table when he froze in place. 

There she was.  Not sitting at the table but standing off to one side consulting a sheaf of papers.

The girl behind the table was hunched over her work flanked by a pile of fat manila envelopes.  A young guy who appeared to be a courier hovered over her.  Before he could detach his gaze from the vision from the lobby, she-who-is-peerless looked up.  As she caught sight of him, recognition lit up her face.  Then came the smile.  If he wasn’t having enough trouble reassembling his composure, that smile just reduced it to shambles again.

She advanced with her hand extended to where he stood rooted and mute.

“Mr. Bryant, how nice that you showed up in person.  I didn’t expect to see you until tonight.”

She had an oval face that tapered down to a delicately cleft chin. The fullness of her cheeks gave her a youthful – almost teenage – appearance.  That appealing little face was a setting for a pair of bright, lively eyes fringed with the kind of long lashes that reinforced the impression of youth.  Those eyes  seemed completely open, as though they were inviting you inside.  Having noted that, he wasn’t able to put his finger on their color.  He didn’t ponder that long because he was drawn back to that smile.

This sweet young thing was glad to see him.  Time to acknowledge her with something gracious, self-effacing and witty.  But, my God, what a smile!

Realizing at last that her hand had been floating within his reach for an awkward moment longer than it should have, he at last managed to extend his to meet it.

“Hi, nice to meet you, uh ..,” he murmured.  The sound of his own voice surprised him.  He was still counting it MIA.  The rest of him certainly was.

She almost giggled.  “Sorry, I’m Thalia.  I’m helping out here.  I was just so thrilled to finally meet you I forgot to say who I am.”  The winning smile never faltered.

He grasped her soft, warm hand very gently.  Indeed, she overmatched him with her grip.  Then it was she that broke off the clasp after he showed no sign of wanting to let go.  At that point the smile was beginning to take on some quizzical tones at the awkward lapse.  Time to step up before we lose momentum.

“Well, then the thrill is mutual.… Thalia.”  He felt his face shaping a smile and his body shifting to a more relaxed pose.   He was regaining motor control. His extremities were reporting in. This could be salvaged.

The smile brightened again.

“Oh, I have to tell you that I’m just such a big Jeff Bryant fan.”

“Then you’ll have to call me Jeff.” 

He leaned forward and realized that she wasn’t as tall as she seemed in the lobby.  Her carriage and self-confident deportment made her seem more commanding.  It now appeared that she was about average height.  Topping six feet himself with nearly three inches to spare had made him very conscious of height.  The good thing about his stature he found was that he always had the advantage of looking down any available cleavage.  Ms. Thalia’s suit was tailored to offer a pleasing view of her endowments.

“ …usually don’t show up in person,” she was saying.  He redirected his attention from her chest to her face and concentrated on her voice.

“They don’t?” He was trying to pick up the thread of what he’d missed.

“No, we send them along to wherever they’re staying by courier, so we usually don’t see the honorees until the ceremony.  But,” she added with her dazzling smile, “I’m glad you did.”

She turned back to the table and rifled the stack of envelopes.  She withdrew one and turned back to him.  The girl and the courier seemed oblivious to them.

“Here’s yours,” she smiled.  “Express service, no waiting.”

“Thanks.”  He was apprehensive that this was the end of his the interview.  He really didn’t want to leave her presence.  He needn’t have worried.

“Can I show you around?”  She stepped up to him and touched his elbow to suggest they leave.

“Sure … I’d love that.”

She led the way through the door and then turned and waited for him to fall in step.

“The Society should do more out reach to the recipients.  It would make everyone more comfortable and make the ceremony go smoother,” she lamented, more business-like now.  The smile was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow.  It did not diminish her appeal.

“I’m going to show you where everything is going to take place.  I hope you have some time.”  She kept looking at him as they walked.

“No problem. Lead the way.”

“Good.  I was concerned that the siren call of an unfinished story might be pulling you back to you laptop.”

“Uh, no.  I gave myself the day off.”  She had touched on The Other Thing and that brought back a flood of apprehension.

“Okay, then I won’t try to get you to tell me what sort of story you’re working on.  You can have the whole day off.”  The smile was back and he felt his apprehension evaporate before it.

She led the way up the broad staircase from the lobby to the banquet level.  He fell in behind her, the better to see that beautiful ass do its dance.  He appreciated how the lines of her body traced out a long wasp-thin waist and then flared into just-right pair of hips.  After that it was the all the legs.  The high heels she wore helped enhance the display, but that skirt was a great frame for the view.  He estimated that the hemline was about equidistant from her knees and her glory hole.  The message seemed to be “I’m very sexy but I’m on business now.  Check with me later.”

She gained the floor and then turned to wait for him to join her.  Was that smile a bit more knowing?

“Here, let me show you how this works.”  She held out her hands for the envelope he was carrying.

When he surrendered it, she briskly tore it open without the least concern for the potential damage to her pearly French nail job.

“Now this tells you where you have to be and at what time …”  She had withdrawn some of the documents from the envelope and was walking  down the hall past the banquet rooms.  He was registering her words but not really trying to understand what she was saying.  He had begun to notice how fresh she smelled and was taking note of how a stray lock of hair curled around her left ear.

“ … so this is where the presentation will take place.”  She stopped in front of one of the banquet rooms whose plaque proclaimed it the Arizona Room.  She reached for the door handle but he preempted her and held it open for her.

She made a show of leading him around the room pointing out the access to the speaker’s platform, acquainting him with the rationale of the seating arrangements, showing him his reserved seat at one of the tables – all the while he did little else but watch the progression of her facial expressions and watch for a flash of a little high point on her thigh through the kick slit in the back of her skirt.

The adjacent room where the post-presentation reception was supposed to take place was also covered in due course.  By now he was developing a vague apprehension that when this tour was over she would excuse herself and leave him alone – an unthinkable prospect.  But rescue was once again at hand.

“… your publisher pretty much underwrote the cost of the reception to use it as a forum to announce your new book.   I’m sure the literary world is holding its breath to see what you do to top your last book.  No pressure, though.”

Her smile was accompanied by an arched eyebrow as though she was inviting him to divulge a confidence.

“Pressure?  What pressure?” It was easy to return that smile.  “Actually, I think this is the better book of the two.  I wrote it before The League and I was disappointed when all I got was the ‘It doesn’t meet our present needs’ treatment.  I was about to bag fiction altogether when that happened.”

“So what turned you around?”  She handed back his envelope and slipped her arm through his as she steered him toward the door.  He felt an unaccountable tingling in his arm that progressed all the way to his shoulder.  Before he could give it a thought , he realized that she seemed inclined to stay with him.  He felt wonderful again.

“I don’t know exactly.  I stewed for a couple of weeks and then out of the blue I got this idea for The League and I knew right away it would be a saleable book.  I guess my attitude then was “Okay, the bastards don’t know what’s good?  Then I’ll give ‘em what they want.”  He grinned down at her.  “But I had no idea that it would make money and wow the critics.”

Back in the hall, she drew him to one of the upholstered bench seats positioned along the wall and sat down.  She crossed her legs slowly like she was settling in.  All he had to do is continue to be interesting and she’d stay.

She gradually drew him out with questions.  He heard himself admitting that the next project was a recycle as well.  His agent had mined all of his rejected short stories and novellas and decided that there was gold in there somewhere.  He was diligently getting them accepted into various magazines as “short stories by the author of The League.”  His agent was busily shopping the idea of eventually gathering these now-published pieces into a collection.

Then she got to the question he knew was coming.

“So what’s in the pipeline now?” 

“Um, well, I’m fooling around with a few ideas.”

“But nothing specific.”

“Uh, no.  Not yet.”

He was desperate to change the subject.  “Ever written anything yourself?”

She smiled self-consciously.  “No, I’m cheerleader, not a player.”

“But you must have thought about it.  Working for the Society and all, you have to be thinking about writing all the time.”

“I’m involved with writers all the time, but not writing,” she corrected.  “And I find working with writers  fascinating.”

If he started to entertain any thoughts that she might be a literary groupie, it didn’t last long.  She began regaling him with highly engaging and entertaining stories about writers and the creative process.  He marveled at the stories she told about well-known and unknown, living and dead writers and their struggles with the demons that bedevil the practitioners of the Craft.  She had obviously made quite a study of the private lives and work habits of creative writers.

At some point she paused in her narration and he was moved to invite her to join him for lunch.

Her eyes went wide.  “My goodness.  Is it that late?” She hurriedly got to her feet and looked agitated.

“I need to get back and look after things.”  Then she smiled reassuringly.  “Thanks for a lovely conversation.  We’ll have to pick this up later.”

He followed her to his feet in distress that she was going to leave him.  She seemed to pick up on that.

“Don’t worry.  I won’t leave you alone.”  She took both his hands in hers.  “How about if I pick you up at your room and take you to the presentation?”  A line of warmth flowed up both of his arms, met at his neck and welled up into his head.  He felt light-headed for a moment.

“Uh, sure, that’ll be fine.”

“Get into your tux and I’ll see you then.” 

She pulled away to arm’s length and then released his hands.  Still smiling over her shoulder, she turned and walked to the staircase, waved at him and then descended.  He stood watching her by turns despairing and hopeful.

At length, he roused himself, picked up his envelope from the seat, and then it hit him.  He suddenly felt very warm and very tired.  He started walking to the elevator.  Just need to lie down … 

He eventually found himself back in his room. 

He tossed the envelope on the bed and stole a glance at the desk.  It was still there.  His laptop, firmly closed, seemed to stare back at him.  It seemed like a malevolent thing, like a vulture keeping a deathwatch on him, ready to pounce as soon as he gave up the ghost – admitted defeat.  Can’t think about that now.  Need to rest.

He peeled off his clothes and flopped naked on the bed.  He was feeling very sleepy.  He closed his eyes and dosed.

He came to gradually, concentrating on keeping a grip of the images from the dream.  The greatly lengthened shadows cast by the daylight streaming through the windows indicated that he’d been asleep a surprisingly long time.  But before thinking about that, he had to capture those experiences from the dream.  The fatigue and fever were gone.  He felt alert and energized.

He grabbed the notepad and pen from the nightstand and began to jot notes.  The thought was of the writer with a devolving ability to create, then his growing obsession with his impotency.  His computer seems to develop a mind of its own, sending him taunting messages.  Then it seems to be conveying the directions of some malevolent force to him.  He tries to escape it by shutting off the computer.

He continued to write feverishly for some time.  He got up and went to the desk to get another note pad.  He jotted down key phrases.  He looked at what he’d done and concluded that he wasn’t going to lose the story.  It was time to generate some timeless prose.  Still naked, he grabbed the laptop and fired it up.  He fidgeted while it booted up.  His opening took shape in his head as he waited.

His pulse was racing.  He glanced back through his work with barely contained eagerness.  This was a solid story.  Maybe not a novel, but at least a good short story.  Or a novella? This could be the break.  He had to get this going. 

When the computer at last was ready, his fingers flew to the keyboard.  Words, sentences, then paragraphs began to emerge.  Oh, God!  Thank you, God!

He was into the third page when something made him glance at the clock on the nightstand.

It was getting on toward time to dress and get ready for the affair ... 

Damn! Just when he got on and roll.

… and to see her.  Oh, yeah.

He saved his work, rose quickly and without a backward glance at the computer screen that had held him mesmerized, focused on his new goal.

Thalia was reclaiming his thoughts.  She seemed to understand the mind of the writer.  And, God, she was fine.  Even if she hadn’t opened that discerning, sensitive mind to him, she would have been a noteworthy event in his life.  How often do you meet a girl that physically attractive?

He let his thoughts get down to business.  What were his prospects for getting her into bed?  She seemed so friendly and receptive to him.  She’d even touched him a few times.  She acted like it was all so natural: share, touch, promise more.  She was coming to his room.  Doesn’t that show she cares?

Doubt:  Maybe not.  Isn’t she with the Society?  It’s her job to be nice to everyone, especially prize winners.  Maybe …

She hadn’t said a time when she’d come to his room.  His room?  She hadn’t asked his room number either.  Then again, if she’s with the Society she can probably find out.

He stood in front of the mirror while he toweled off after his shower.  He appraised his body in light of his new prospects.  He’d been somewhat irregular lately in his attention to exercise and God knows his dietary habits had been taking it on the chin.  Still, those love handles don’t look very prominent and the abs are still passable.  And his crank looked as authoritative as ever.  Yeah, when that got out and about its business, she’d have no reason to complain.  The thought caused his manhood to develop that pleasant pre-erection heaviness.

The rented tux did him justice.  He cut a dashing figure, he decided as he checked himself out in the mirror.

He was about to pull on the jacket when the knock came at the door.  Her!

He moved quickly to the door but composed himself before opening it.  When he did, that composure deserted him.

She was wearing that same smile that she had when she left him, but everything else had changed.  Her hair was no longer pulled back but arranged softly around her face and spilled on her bare shoulders.  The black dress, however, was the real news. 

The bodice was little more two strips of silky material that rose from the waist and yoked around her neck.  It left a deep plunge between her breasts as well as a titillating side view of their source.  The skirt reached to her ankles in a form-fitting sheath.

“Are you going to invite me in?”  Her eyes were dancing with delight at his reaction.

“Oh, yeah.  Let me roll my tongue back in first.”

He stood aside and watched her.  She treated him to quite a show as soon as she started to move.  The sheath skirt was slit up the front, practically to the waist.  It showed a spectacular amount of leg with each stride – including a generous serving of inner thigh.

She worked her sashay to the center of the room and then turned for an appraisal.  

“Think this’ll do?”

“It works for me,” he replied, closing the door without taking his eyes off her.  That heaviness in his crotch had returned.

As he approached her, she surveyed him critically. 

“You clean up nicely,” she concluded.

When he was within reach, she stepped forward and reached for his tie to adjust it, making eye contact as she did.  Then she needlessly smoothed his shirt outward from his collar to his shoulders and then down his front.  Her smile was teasing.

“I think you have quite a future as an award recipient, if you always look this good in a tux.  If not, you could always fall back on a career as a maitre d’.”

Her hands came to rest on his chest.  He took the familiarity as an invitation and slipped his hands around her waist.  He didn’t press against her, however, so as not to advertise the state of his crotch.

“I think my future got a lot brighter since this morning.”

“I can check that out for you.  Did I mention that I’m clairvoyant?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think you did.”

“Would you like to know your future?”  Her expression was not as playful.  There seemed to be some undercurrent of tension now.

“Sure,” he replied, trying to keep it light.

“Well,” she said, “I’ll need your right hand.”

He removed his hand from her waist and held it up to her.  She took it in both her hands and then half turned to her left so that her body was in profile.  Then in one motion she slipped his hand under her bodice and placed it on her bare breast.

She turned her head to look up and him and said matter-of-factly, “It needs to have good contact with my nipple.”

She placed one hand over her bodice, pressing his hand on her breast while she used the hand still holding his wrist to massage it.  He felt her nipple harden.  So did his cock.  His heart was a trip hammer and his brain was on its way to overload.

Satisfied that conditions were right, she turned her head away from him and closed her eyes.  He could feel her heartbeat under her soft breast.

“I see,” she intoned, “that in the very near future you will take a short, pleasant trip.”

She opened her eyes and turned her face to him and smiled expectantly while still holding his hand in place.

“How was that?”

His voice was labored due to his ragged breathing.

“Uh, kind of short on detail,” he managed, trying to sound calm.

“Oh, okay.”  She closed her eyes and resumed her divination.

“The trip will be only a few inches.  It will begin between my labia and continue down my vaginal canal until you reach my womb.”

She opened her eyes and looked directly in his eyes with those great (gray? blue?) orbs of hers and added, “And it will only cost you a little semen.”

With that she withdrew his hand and moved away from him.  As she did so she lifted the two wings her skirt apart.  Her labia were smooth as a baby’s.  “This is where you enter,” she said quietly.

As he stepped toward her she held her skirt open until his one hand was on her pussy and the other holding her steady behind her waist under her skirt.  Then she let go of her skirt and reached for his fly with both hands.  With quick, deft moves she opened him and slipped her hand into his underwear.  Almost as soon as he had registered these developments, his hard cock was out in plain view.  She held it in one hand while she stroked it with the other.  For his part, he had managed one finger in her cunt and was readying a second.

All the while they held each other’s eyes.

She sighed and arched her back as he sought to reach deeper into her.  He stroked her clit with his thumb.  She let out a gasp and moved against his finger.

His cock was raging hard and drooling pre-cum.  She pulled it toward her.

“Please put it in me,” she whispered.

He tried to draw her to the bed.   She stopped him.

“No, we don’t have time for everything and you can’t muss me.  Do me standing up.”

He was desperate to fuck her.  He needed to deal with this complication quickly.  He withdrew his fingers from her cunt and slipped both hands under bare buttocks.  He backed her to the wall and then lifted her off the floor.  She quickly responded by wrapping her legs around him and using one hand to grip his shoulder to position herself.  The other hand continued to grasp his cock.

With some maneuvering, he managed to raise her high enough so that the head of his cock was at the entrance to her pussy.  She took over and guided him inside her.  When his head was imbedded, she relaxed her grip and looked at him meaningfully.  She raised her legs to encircle his waist and waited for his move.

He let her weight drive her down on his cock.  A sharp intake of breath from her confirmed what his crotch had already told him – he was fully imbedded in her. 

She had both arms around his neck and was watching his face through half opened eyes.  Her breath hissed in and out between her parted lips.  She wiggled her hips insistently and he started his fucking thrusts.  She worked with him, alternately tightening and loosening her legs around his waist.

Gradually his thrusting became more instant and harder.  As her passion built, she began to emit sounds from the back of her throat.  That spurred him to stronger thrusts.  Then he felt his incipient orgasm.  He tried to stop himself but he wanted too badly to fill her.  The fullness in his cock gave way to an explosion as he pushed as deeply inside her as he could.  She responded by clamping her legs tightly around him.

He spent himself in multiple spurts.  The thought was just forming in his mind that he may have come prematurely and left her unsatisfied when he felt her vaginal muscles come into play.

It was unlike anything he had felt before while inside a woman.  Her muscles were not just contracting but rippling from the base of his imbedded cock to the tip.  The sensation was like her vagina was milking his cock.  He was in the process of enjoying this development when suddenly her pussy clamped tightly around his cock.  At the same time, her whole body tensed and she squeezed him tightly with both her arms and her legs.

Then a warm, tingling feeling shot through his cock.  But this time it seemed to start from the tip run backward to his body.  It spread rapidly through his abdomen, then boiled up to his head and down to his feet.  In shock and fright, his knees nearly buckled.  He had no idea what had just happened to him, but fortunately it passed quickly.

Thalia was gasping loudly, her head pressed to the side of his.  Then she drew her head back and looked at him.  Without any preliminaries, she lunged forward and pressed her open mouth on his.  She engaged him for what seemed like several minutes in a ferocious, tongue-thrusting kiss.

When she finally disengaged, she offered a fatigued smile and breathed, “Wow.” 

“What was that?” he managed.

“Whatever it was, it was amazing.”

His cock was softening.  She released her legs from around him and let him fall out.  He lowered her to the floor.

She set about the business of returning her skirt to good order and straightening her hair.  Her smile was brightening.

“I hope you enjoyed your trip.  Now that you know the way, I hope you’ll come often.”

She looked at his flaccid penis.

“Hmm … you can’t go to the presentation like that.”

She appropriated a nearby box of tissues and set about wiping his cock off.  Then she tucked it back in his underwear and zipped up his fly.

“There, good as new.”

She looked at him critically then took out some more tissues and wiped his brow and face.

“Sweaty work, exchanging body fluids, wouldn’t you say?”

He noted that her skin was still dry.  No trace of sweat anywhere.  Cool running, he thought.

“How do I look?” she asked. He looked into her face.  Her eyes were bright and her face was still flushed with afterglow.

“Like a woman that’s just been fucked,” he grinned.

 “Do you like that look?” she asked still smiling.

“I love it, particularly when I’m the cause of it.”  That’s when he noticed.  In spite of their exertions, her makeup was still perfect.  In fact every hair seemed to have fallen right back into place.  She looked as fresh as when she walked through the door.  Moreover, it dawned on him that she hadn’t been carrying a purse that might have contained the essentials for repairing the ravages of a ravishing.

She seemed to read his mind.  “This no-smear makeup is a great invention.  What did we girls do before it?”

She breezed past him and picked up his jacket and held it open for him to slip into.

“Time to suit up, Big Fella.” He complied.

 She walked around him, pulling and smoothing as she went.

“How do you feel?”

He realized that he felt wonderful.  Not just because he had just fucked, but he felt alert, engaged, in control.  Everything seemed in sharp focus.

“Great.  Really great,” he replied.

“Correct answer,” she approved.

“Okay, then ...”  She seemed to have a sudden thought.  “Your speech.  You need your speech.”

She turned to his bag on a chair.  Unerringly, she went to it, unzipped the appropriate compartment and withdrew the folded papers.  She returned to him with a relieved smile and tucked the papers into the inside breast pocket of his jacket.   How did she …

He didn’t a chance to vocalize the question. 

“It’s going to be a wonderful speech.  Don’t be afraid to ad lib.  You do that well.”

She was tugging him toward the door.  “Come on.  You’re going to be late.”

He collected his thoughts and took her in his arms instead.

“I want you to come back afterward and spend the night with me,” he said.  He had meant for it to be a questions but it came out like a demand.

“Why, of course I will,” she replied as though it were a given.  “Although, wouldn’t you like to keep your options open in case you see something better at the reception?”  she teased.

“There can’t be anything better than what we just had,” he replied.  He was never more sincere about anything as just then.

She smiled with pleasure.  “That’s so sweet,” she said, then in a low voice, “I can’t wait until you’re inside me again.”

She put her face up and they kissed.  That little guy in his pants gave a jump and wanted out again.

She pulled away and drew him toward to door.  “Gotta go.”

They kissed again in the elevator.

“I have behind-the-scenes work to do,” she confided, “So we’ll only see each other sporadically through the night.  It’s best that we not look too familiar when we do.  Okay?”

“Okay.”

The elevator door opened on the second level and she put a hand in the small of his back to propel him ahead of her in the crush of gowned and tuxed people.  “See you later” was the last thing he heard.

He reached the ballroom door where the girl who had been at the credentials table this morning was doing the greeting.  “Hi, I’m Jeff Bryant,” he said with an engaging grin.  He felt like he owned the place.

During dinner he was seated at the front table with the other major honorees and president of the Society.  He enjoyed the company and the conversation.  He found himself more than equal to the level of wit and erudition represented around the table.  More than once he commanded the attention of the entire table with his bon mot.

Still, he did glance around a couple of times trying to locate Thalia.  He was unsuccessful.  He decided she was busy with details and probably wasn’t joining them for dinner.

When the dishes were cleared and coffee served, the ceremony got underway.  As the most important award of the evening, he was called last. 

He rose slowly, acknowledging the applause as he strode deliberately to the podium.  He shook hands, accepted the plaque and then took his place for his address.  He took out the papers from his jacket pocket and spread them out on the podium.  That was the last time he looked at them.

He launched into his talk but the exuberance he felt soon led him elsewhere.  He knew that he had just fucked a beautiful woman and it had been an experience like he was sure no one else in the room had ever had.  Moreover he was going to do it again before the night was out.  And nobody knew that but him.  He had something on everyone.  He was in a superior position.  Best award of the night; best fuck of the night.  This was better than imaging everyone in the audience naked.  He ad libed with abandon.  He provoked laughter and applause at various junctures.

Then he spotted her.  She was sitting at a table just behind his.  She looked pleased and delighted.  When their eyes met, she blew him an exuberant kiss.  Then she arched an eyebrow and pointed to her wrist watch.  He realized that he had been holding forth for a longer time than he should have.  He quickly found a graceful way of closing.

The applause was generous.  He shook the president’s hand again as he departed the platform and headed to his table.  He looked for Thalia but an older woman in a blue gown now occupied that seat.  Puzzled, he resumed his seat.

When presentation ceremony was over, the assembly migrated to the adjoining room.  An ensemble provided a smooth jazz background to the event.  An open bar lubricated the interpersonal activity and people milled.

His editor and his agent both sought him out with their congratulations on his award and great talk.  He was drawn into several klatches where he had to acknowledge compliments on his excellent address again and again.  One woman confided that she was disappointed when he ended so soon.

His buoyant mood did not flag.  He was scintillating as he had never been before.  At the same time, he was keenly aware of all of the dynamics going on around him.  He found his mind assembling them into a variety of putative scenarios that each had the germ of a story.  Wow, a night like this could keep him in material for the rest of a writing career.

Again and again he’d glance around the room in search of Thalia.  Once he spotted her on the fringe of a group.  She had an empty glass in her hand and seemed attentive to what was being said.  At one point she leaned forward and said something to one of the men.  He didn’t turn to her or acknowledge her presence but seemed attentive by his distant stare.  A moment later he was contributing to the conversation and Thalia was withdrawing.

Jeff caught her eye and they met halfway. 

“You were great tonight,” she smiled, “I was enthralled.”

He expected her compliment, but it still kindled an unexpected glow of pleasure in him.

“Thanks for rescuing me from blowhard-dom.  I was so wound up that I wouldn’t have known I was going on and on until the snores broke out.”

“Quite alright.  Part of the service.”

“Can I get you another drink?” he asked, taking the glass from her hand.  He noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wristwatch or any jewelry for that matter.  Hadn’t she pointed to one when she signaled him to wrap it up?  She must have pointed to her bare wrist and his mind filled in the rest.

“No thanks.  I have to stay sharp so I can keep working the room.”  Then she leaned forward and whispered, “And I want to have all my wits about me when you work your way inside me tonight.”

That trouser snake raised its one-eyed head attentively.

“Can we go now?” he whispered back.

She laughed, enjoying her tease.  “Not yet.  Your adoring public hasn’t had enough of you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to leave them begging for more?”

“Be generous.  Give’em a little dessert.”

She suddenly looked over his shoulder.  “Oops here comes the president again.  Time to circulate.”

He turned to greet the president who was accompanied by one of the other recipients.

“Jeff, just saw you by yourself and thought I’d let Ray here tell you a little item he just appraised me of.”

“Alone?  I was talking to …” He turned to Thalia but she was gone.  He was still holding her empty glass.

The president looked at the glass.  “Ah, but let’s get you another drink before we regale you with this tid-bit.”

It was at least an hour later when he spotted Thalia near the door.  She came to him, a look of bright expectation on her face.

“Okay, they’ve had you enough.  You’re mine now.  Say good night and I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

When he saw her by the elevators, the car call button was already lit.   He reached her side just as the doors slid open.   She took his hand and led him inside.  They tongue-wrestled all the way up to his floor.

By the time he got the door open, she had already unyoked her dress top.   She freed her breasts as she stepped through the door.  Backing into the center of the room with a mischievous grin, she reached behind her waist and unzipped the dress.  It dropped to the floor and she stepped out of it on her way back to him.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for hours,” she said as she slipped her arms around his neck.

He hadn’t had the opportunity to explore her naked body before.  He made up for that now as she pressed herself against him and worked her mouth on his.  Her skin was amazingly smooth – all over.  His hands made the trip from her buttocks to her shoulders and back again with the same amazing results.

His cock rapidly grew down his pant leg and then reared up and tried to tear through his fly.  She felt the activity and broke off the kiss.  She pulled back a bit and found his zipper.  A few moves and she had his cock in her hands.  Spreading her legs, she pulled his rigid member to her and guided it between her thighs to press against her slit.

“Is that better?” she asked as she closed her legs around his cock and leaned forward.  She indicated her desire to resume the kiss and he obliged.  She rocked her hips to massage his cock. For his part he managed to get a hand between them to knead her luscious breasts.

Eventually, she broke off again.  Her breathing was ragged and her eyes were bright with excitement.  She pulled him to the end of the bed and sat him down.  His cock bounced and waved as she completed the maneuver.

A cooperation emerged as they progressed.  She started from his shoes and progressed upwards.  For his part, the jacket, tie, shirt and adjacent items became his responsibility. As she opened his pants, she paused to take his erection into her mouth.  Her head worked up and down his length a few times before she broke off to resume the main activity of the evening.

He lifted his ass off the bed momentarily and she used that opening to drag his shorts and pants off simultaneously.  With flourish, she disengaged them both from his ankles and tossed them over her shoulder.

“So that‘s what you look like naked.”

She got to her feet in one fluid motion and parked her hands on her hips.  She looked down at him grinning.

“I guess you pass.  You may fuck me.”

Matching her grin, he stood up quickly, seized her and rolled her over his hip onto the bed, landing her on her back.

She laughed with delight and began pulling herself higher up the bed.  He crawled onto the bed and straddled her and matched her progress.  They watched each other’s faces the whole time.  When she stopped she pulled him down on top of her for another kiss.

He rolled on his side and gathered into his arms.  She let him kiss his way down to her nipples and then to her crotch.  He kissed and licked her clit eliciting the desired reaction.

He grinned up at her from between her legs. 

“Did you like that?” 

She nodded eagerly.

“Want more?”

“Yes, please.”

“You said the magic word.”  He buried his face in her labia again.

She tasted exquisite.  He couldn’t remember a woman tasting like this.  The undertones of perspiration and other body odors seemed absent.  Her cunt juices themselves were – well, sweet.  Like fruity wine.  Her response to his ministrations seemed highly sensitive.  She bucked and writhed with each contact.  He’d often regarded going down on his partner a chore that had to be performed in order to get what he ultimately wanted – to bury his cock in some pussy.  This was fun.  He could keep this up all night.

At last she pulled him out of her crotch by his hair.

“Hey,” she said with mock remonstration, “Are you going to be down there all night or are you going to get around to violating me with something bigger than your tongue?”

He grinned and crab walked back up her body.  She lay back while holding his eyes with her own.

He positioned himself between her legs and pressed his cock head against her opening.

“What’s the magic word?”

She effected a mock suppliant demeanor.  “Please?  Oh pretty please?”

Both of their expressions changed as he leaned forward.  Serious business now.

He took his time entering her – progressively deeper strokes until he was completely inside.  At that point she raised her legs and wrapped them behind his buttocks.  Her breath was rushing in and out of her mouth as she continued to hold his eyes.

At an urging pressure from her legs he began to fuck her slowly.  Her eyes half closed as she savored the sensation.  She began to arch her back to meet his thrusts and maximize his penetration.

Their need increased the frequency of their mutual thrusting.  It occurred to him that he should slow down and hold back to prolong the experience, but that didn’t seem to concern her, so he ploughed ahead.

He needn’t have worried.  Suddenly, her rhythm became irregular.  She grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself off the bed at the same time tightening her leg wrap, arresting further thrust by him.  Her head fell back, her eyes were closed and her mouth opened in a long “Uhhh.”  If there was any doubt that she had achieved her orgasm, the spasming of her vaginal muscles resolved that.  It was an incredibly arousing display of a woman in the throes of ultimate passion.  It was all he needed to drive him over the edge.

As soon as she relaxed her grip on his buttocks enough he resumed his thrusts, seeking his own climax.  When it came she sensed it and once again locked him tight in a leg embrace to help maximize his penetration.  His ejaculation was volcanic.  He groaned and then gasped through the aftershocks.

She pulled his face down engulfed his mouth as though to eat his face off.  He collapsed on top of her and concentrated his remaining energy on the kissing.

She finally relented and let him relax.  That was when her vaginal muscles began squeezing his cock.  He suddenly remembered the after effects of their last coupling and tensed expectantly.  The reverse orgasm didn’t occur.  He realized that the pattern of her muscle contractions were not the rippling that he had experienced before but simple squeezing.  He relaxed again.

She was running her fingertips lightly over his back.  It was completely delightful.  Nevertheless …

He raised his head and looked at her.  “Am I too heavy?”

“You’re fine.”  She gave him a sleepy smile while her muscular exertions never missed a beat.  She was apparently carrying them on effortlessly.  The effect of her ministrations was that his cock was remaining rigid within her.

“Just relax,” she continued.  “I have you.”

For some reason that was all he needed to hear.  He lay his head back down and just enjoyed the dual sensations of her finger tips and her vaginal contractions.  His mind drifted off into a pleasant haze.

He came back suddenly with an abrupt thought:  The Story.  He raised his head and that seemed to bring her around, too.  She opened her eyes with a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh, I just had a thought.”  He paused, embarrassed.  Here he was inside a woman and his mind was elsewhere.  She would not be pleased.

“What?”  Her vaginal contracts resumed, seeming to coax him.  She gave him a teasing smile.

As he continued to hesitate, she asked, “A story idea?”

He was surprised, but he was still reluctant to admit it.  Finally, he nodded mutely.

She smiled and pulled his head down for a kiss.  When she let him up again she said, “It’s okay.  I’m honored that you got a story inspiration while you were inside me.  Not every girl’s vagina is that inspiring.”

He had to break down and smile.  He was not only not in trouble, but she was thrilled about it.  Where do they make women like this?

“I guess that means that you have to pull out and go to your laptop,” she continued.

“Uh, well …I need to capture this idea.  It won’t take long.”

With a final squeeze of her vagina she unwrapped her legs from him. 

“Go ahead.  I’ll take a rain-check.”

He reluctantly withdrew from her.  His hard-on was as full as ever.  He must have been quite a sight as he moved to the desk.

He hardly knew where to start.  There was the haunted laptop story he had started earlier and all of the ideas that had coursed through his mind during the evening.  He wanted to work on all of them at once. After months of creative constipation, he was ecstatic almost to the point of exploding.

“Don’t panic.  You won’t lose anything good.  Start anywhere.”

He looked around at her.  She had propped herself up with pillows to watch him. Her legs lay open showing her pink, swollen vagina.   She was smiling encouragingly.  By now he was used to her anticipating his needs, so he took her advice.

Piles of notes aside, he was 10 pages into his story when it occurred to him that hours had passed since he rose from the bed.  He looked to Thalia and found she was curled up on the bed sound asleep.  He smiled at the sight.  His sense of urgency sated, he realized he was fatigued and decided to join her.

He climbed in bed beside her and drew covers over them both.  He settled in close and savored her scent as he drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke, she was in the same position as when he had joined her, still sleeping.  He snuggled up to her and began to stoke her.  He marveled again at the feel of her skin.  It was unusual but familiar.  Then it came to him: It was like the skin of a woman’s inner thigh.  She just seemed to have that texture all over.  No fine peach fuzz, no dry spots, not even any moles.  She smelled marvelous, tasted wonderful and fucked selflessly.   She was perfect in every way.

Perfect.  Yeah.  How does a woman become perfect?

He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling for a long time as he reviewed the events of the past 24 hours.  His consternation deepened the more he thought about it.

At last he decided what he would do.  She was not showing any signs of awakening, so he got up to use the bathroom.  If she didn’t come to soon, he’d take the bull by the horns and wake her.  He had to get this settled.

When he returned from the bathroom, she was watching him from the bed.  She had thrown off the covers and had assumed a kittenish pose on her side.  She smiled sleepily.

“Morning,” she offered.

The sight of her made his love muscle twitch. 

“Morning, yourself.”

He climbed into bed facing her.  Where to start?  But before he could say anything …

She put her face up to his and essayed a gentle kiss.  Her breath was perfect.  How is that possible?

“Didn’t we have some unfinished business last night?” she asked.  “Something to do with your penis and my vagina?”

“Uh, yeah, that sounds familiar,” he replied in spite of himself.  He also couldn’t avoid returning her coy smile.

Her hand slowly reached out to him.  It first encountered his chest.  He drew a breath and held it.  Her finger tips then slowly traced down his torso to his crotch.  He was already well on his way to a boner when her hand closed around his shaft.

She raised herself up to a semi-reclining position. With gentle pushing she encouraged him to lie on his back.  When he compiled, she leaned down and took his cock into her mouth. 

Her tongue found his most sensitive parts and brought him to full readiness.  Then she gave a virtuoso demonstration of taking nearly his whole length into her mouth and throat.  He caught his breath and groaned.

As he began to realize that he was on the verge of giving up his load she abruptly stopped.  Still holding his hard-on, she leaned over him and stroked his brow.

“This is my treat.  Scoot up to the top and sit up for me.”

He complied with alacrity.  At that point he only wanted to do whatever was required to get her to resume her incredible ministrations.  He knew he had to deal with IT, but not quite yet.

Once he was propped upright, she straddled him sporting a mischievous smile.  She steadied herself by grasping his shoulders.  He took the initiative by grasping her thigh with one hand while he inserted a finger in her cunt with the other.  She was thoroughly wet and ready for him.  She half closed her eyes and undulated her pelvis in synchrony with his probing digit.  Her smile took on a dreamy aspect that was very appealing.  Her head suddenly seemed too heavy for her neck.  It lulled while her mouth drooped open to facilitate her rapid breathing.  She was the picture of “So Ready.”

She slowly reached for his cock again.  Grasping it and pointing it, she waited for him to withdraw his finger.  Then she began to lower herself onto his pole.  She took a bit in, partially withdrew and then took a bit more. In this way she progressed down his cock until he was entirely within her.

She began to slowly rise to begin her fuck pistoning when he decided to make his move.  He grabbed both her hips to arrest her movement.

“Thalia, do you mind if we talk a minute?”

Her eyes came fully open with a look of surprise.  But as he expected, she immediately acquiesced.

“Talk?  Uh, okay.”  She settled back down on his cock and sat up straight.  She withdrew her hands from his shoulders and placed them on each of his hands.  A quizzical look showed through the incipient flush of passion on her face.

“Uh, Thalia, I just want to try to understand a few things,” he began.  She continued to watch him attentively without attempting to speak.

“Like, you … um, don’t work for the Society, do you?”

Her face changed subtly.  Concern?  “No, I don’t.”  One of her hands crept from holding his up to a stray lock of her hair that hung over her shoulder.  She began to twist it unconsciously.

“And you weren’t invited to the ceremony last night.”

“That’s right.”

“Does anyone in the Society even know you?”

“No.”

“You got in and talked to some of the people last night, though.”  She nodded and he took a breath.  “Besides me, did any of them talk back to you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

She shrugged slightly.  “What I said to them was kind of like suggestions.  It didn’t require them to respond.”

His heart was now pounding in his chest.  His voice was lower when he continued.

“They didn’t even know you were there.” He didn’t manage to turn it into a question.

She continued to stare directly at him.  “No, they didn’t.”

He thought about her apparent precognition of the ceremony details, the location of the papers containing his speech and how she turned up a key junctures but disappeared immediately after.  He knew what to say next but couldn’t get his mouth around it.

She stepped into the silence.  She let out a breath that she was apparently holding.  Her stray hand returned to his and both of her hands tightened on his.  “Just say it, Jeff.”  Her voice was barely a whisper.

“You’re a muse.”

Slowly, her face relaxed and a relieved smile spread across it.  “My god,” she said quietly, “you know.”

His heart rate kicked up with dread.  What did this mean?  Who was crazy?  Was anyone?

He drew a shaky breath.  “Then are you real?” He would not have been surprised if she had vanished at that point, leaving him to confront the fact that he was a raging psychotic.

Instead she lunged forward, joyfully throwing her arms around his neck and engulfing his mouth with hers.  She tongued him vigorously then drew back and looked him in the eye.  At the same time he felt her vaginal muscles in play around his cock.  Her hips undulated.

“Does that feel real to you?”  She seemed ecstatically happy.

“Yes, I’m as real as you are, just in a different way.   And,” she continued in an earnest voice, “I love you …I love you and I want to inspire you to accomplish wonderful things.  That is,” her expression became serious, “if you’ll let me.”

For some reason he was relieved and pleased by this completely absurd development.  His heart was still pounding but on a much more positive note.

“Of course I want you.  You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me … In every sense.”  He said it with complete sincerity.  But still …

“But I really don’t understand all of this.  How …” 

She put an arresting finger to his lips.  “I don’t understand it all either, but I’ll explain to you as much as I can afterward.  That is, after you inseminate me.”  Her smile broadened.

He realized that some of the starch had come out of his cock during his anxiety.

“I’m good with that, but I think a need a little remediation,” he grinned sheepishly.

“Not a problem.”  Her vagina resumed its magic.  God, what a cunt!  Of course she’s supernatural, no real woman could work her cunt like that.

When she was satisfied with the rigidity of his cock, she began to fuck very slowly.  She was watching him through half-open eyes.  Her ample breasts swayed with her motion.  He put a hand on each of them.  Yeah, this was going to be okay.

-End-