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Chapter 8


Claire pulled the truck up to the valet at the Marriott Custom House. The fifteen-story waterfront hotel, with its giant clock tower and twelve pillars of granite, was a sight to see. The building was tall and slender like a great gray sentinel standing watch over Boston Harbor. The granite steps that led to the front entrance gave it more of a courthouse look then a hotel.

We climbed out of the truck and grabbed our bags from the back. I slipped the valet a five and told him to be light on the pedal or the nice white marble driveway would have skid marks. He looked at me and smiled but seemed a little intimidated to drive the truck, maybe he couldn’t drive a stick.

A bellhop took our bags and said he would meet us in the lobby. He motioned for us to proceed up the white marble steps. The sensation of entering into the past as we ascended up the grandeur stairs and entered the lobby was unmistakable.

The Lobby was circular in shape and focus. The floor was a blue patterned circle and the ceiling had a circular hole that allowed you to look up into a great dome on the floors above. The ceiling appeared to be held by pillars that also circled the room.

As we walked up to the reception desk, I noticed the bellhop exit an elevator to the right. He stood patiently by the door waiting for us as we checked in. The receptionist was pleasant and as I gave her my name she smiled a broad smile.

“Yes, Mr. Chamberlain, your suite is available.”

“Suite, there must be a mistake I didn’t ask for a suite,” I said wondering if I had enough credit left on my Visa to pay for this.

“You have been upgraded and the room has been paid in full for seven nights, courtesy of Shawn Heller from the Maine District Attorney’s office, friends in high places Mr. Chamberlain. Aren’t you the same Detective Chamberlain from Maine that made the papers recently?

“Yes, that would be me. Are you sure it was Shawn Heller?” I asked in disbelief.

“Well yes and no. Mr. Heller’s office paid for the room but my manager Mr. Ward upgraded it to a suite. He said you solved a robbery recovering some of his family’s heirlooms a few years back. He would like very much to meet you during your stay.”

I looked at Claire and she had such a lovely and proud smile as she looked at me that I could feel the stupidest grin cross my face but I just couldn’t stop it. I turned back to the receptionist noticing this time her name was Nancy and said, “I don’t recall a Ward case?” I asked still trying unsuccessfully to get the shit eatin’ grin off my face.

She smiled back at me and said, “He said it was his mother-in laws, Mrs. Cloutier?”

“Yes I remember. A jewelry box was stolen with some emerald rings. We caught an adolescent and recovered everything. Please tell Mr. Ward thank you very much for the upgrade. We would be happy to meet with him sometime during our stay. If he leaves a message I will do my best to make sure we can fit into his schedule.”

“I will,” then her voice turned to a whisper. “Is this a business trip or pleasure?”

Claire responded, “A pleasure trip with as little business as possible.”

“Are you Detective Clarita Sanchez?”

“Yes,” said Claire brightening up by the mention of her name.

“I thought I recognized you from your photo. You’re much prettier in person.”

Claire was positively glowing, her smile was embellished by a reddening of her cheeks as she said, “Thank you.”

“Reading the stories in the Globe was like reading a detective novel. Here is your keycard for room 1203 facing the harbor.”

“Thank you,” said Claire as she received the keys with a smile. She walked to the center of the room and looked up into the circular hole in the ceiling. Above the next levels the view led to a great domed ceiling that was originally the exterior of the old custom house. The dome was brightly lit and ringed with flags of battle crests but the center of the dome was a blue sunburst with the symbol of the President, a majestic eagle and shield, in its center. “It is beautiful,” she said.

“Yes, it is. Part of the original building built in 1849 by President Jackson. The tower was constructed over it in the early part of the 1900’s. The government had needed a larger facility and practically gave it to the city. Marriott bought it in the late 90’s and converted it into a hotel. At least now it’s well cared for because before Marriot came along it had been vacant for nearly two decades.”

“Fascinating, how do you know all this?” she asked.

“The place has a rich history. Did you know Nathaniel Hawthorne worked here?”

“Really, did he write here?”

“No, he was a clerk of customs. Come on, let’s go check out the room. I want to see the view, then after, look out the windows.”

“You take a lot for granted.”

“Hey, we’re in a suite, that’s gotta be worth a little extra something.” I took her by the arm and we entered the elevator. As I pushed the number twelve she leaned her head against my shoulder and I caught the sweet scent of her hair as the doors closed us to the outside world.

We arrived at room 1203 to find the door open and the bellhop inside the room placing the bags on suitcase racks within the closets. He smiled politely as I slipped him a ten spot to which he thanked me and let himself out.

“This is spectacular,” said Claire as she made her way into a large thirty by thirty living area. The furniture was colonial in style with plush beige cushions, the arms of the couch trimmed with a dark walnut wood. An elegant walnut coffee table sat before the couch, with a light green bouquet of fresh red and white roses adding a sweet floral scent to the room. A large forty-six inch HDTV hung on the wall opposite the couch. A work desk positioned in the far corner equipped with a desk lamp, phone and a wireless printer was accompanied by a leather chair, with wheels, pulled underneath it. The room was awash in light from the large glass windows that overlooked Boston Harbor. The light blue carpet was soft underfoot and contrasted perfectly with the off-white walls with walnut trim.

On the backside of the wall where the TV hung, was the bedroom equal in size to the living area. A four-poster bed, painted antique white, sat high undoubtedly from a pillow top mattress. Two dressers painted similarly sat opposite each side of the bed. The view of the harbor was equally as spectacular.

“I can’t believe we’re here for a week!” Claire walked over to the window, her black wavy hair glistening in the sunlight, bathing her darkly tanned legs in its soft warmth. “This is bigger than my whole apartment, even without a kitchen.”

“We won’t need a kitchen. I’m going to call up and order breakfast in bed.”

“Now that sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” I said as I walked up and put my arms around her from behind. “I ordered sugar and syrup. I plan on pouring it on you and you are my breakfast.”

“What time is it?”

“Two o’clock.”

“How about a late lunch then,” she said as she turned in my arms and our lips met. Her mouth was hot, her lips soft and sweet. She laid her head on my shoulder and nibbled on my skin as I began to pull her shirt over her head. She lifted her arms to make it easy for me then immediately went for the buttons on my shirt. She looked into my eyes and smiled the smile that took my breath away. Her breasts were bare and she pressed her skin up to mine and brought her lips to me once again.

Each woman I have been with has a unique flavor; a salty sweetness accentuated by who they are and the passion that they smolder or burn with, in different degrees. Claire’s fire was hot, her passion and lust for me came through in her pores, her saliva, and her scent which made my heart race.

She quickly unlaced her boots and took them off then pulled off her shorts and panties. She grabbed my belt and removed my pants and we moved naked to the bed. She took hold of me, taking all of me as she kissed and caressed me. She would bring me to the edge then stop, making me wait to climax. Finally my back arched and I felt wave after wave of passion leave my body.

I rolled her over and used my tongue to caress her neck and down to her breasts, enveloping them with my hands and mouth. She began to moan softly as I took each in turn then began to work down towards her hard stomach. Her hands were on my head running her fingers through my hair, pulling my hair softly as she gently guided my head lower until my breath mingled with her sweet passionate scent. This brought a wave of saliva into my mouth as I lowered my head and seemed to drown in her soft delicate skin. She held the back of my head hard against her as she thrust herself into me. With every thrust her pace seemed to quicken, her hips pressed harder and her moans louder. She began to cry out my name as she arched her back and nearly broke my chin as she pressed herself against me. Her flavor was hot and sweet.

She grabbed me by the hair and pulled my face up to her lips and drove her tongue deep in my mouth. She quickly guided me into her and thrust herself on me. Within moments I could feel myself returning to a point of climax as she quickened the pace. Her head was thrown back and she called out to me again as we each felt the ultimate passion race through each other like an electric sizzle.

I rested on my side and buried my head in her hair as my hand ran over her body in a soft caress. She turned my head so I could look in her eyes and said, “Wanna go again?”

I couldn’t help but smile.

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