The Trophy Case
I. The Care and Feeding of Cougars
’Being a cougar is a bit tiring,” said Arlette, showcasing the legs a decade of dancing shaped, glittering in metallic tights. “I wonder if there isn’t some way to transplant a little experience. You have to work so hard at getting them to perform. Half of them mess up your sheets and leave you frustrated.
“Well, we are fairly well-observed predators,” said Katie, stretching out to warm up and throwing her ample chest forward to strain the metallic work out bra that covered them. “Between my tits and your legs, we seem to be the focus of the peanut gallery. Any prospects?”
“In blue, over there pulling down on the machine. The body shows a lot of promise and he seems to prefer my legs over your tits. Are you stalking this evening?”
“I’m going home with Jerry again, he’s getting to the peak of the learning curve, unless I’m really off he can Rosie me into an orgasm first, and he’s lasting longer.”
“That’s good and bad, they start to last longer they start to lose interest.”
Katie rattled a bracelet on her left arm and the jewels sparkled. “Says ‘Tiffany’ so unless it’s an Ebay Fugazi, he’s still pretty firmly hooked.”
Arlette did manage to begin a conversation with ‘the one in blue’ in the juice bar they used to cool down before and after their showers. His name was Rod, and like half the Santa Clara Valley worked in a computer firm, in his case American Microsystems. Arlette was pretty much a mistress of the subtle touch system. How good she was was evident because Rod hadn’t worn a jock strap and the efficacy of Arlette’s technique showed rather clearly as he headed back toward the showers.
Katie sat on one of the stools with her ankles crossed and her hand on Jerry’s elbow. “Are we doing dinner tonight?” she asked.
“It’s Friday,” he answered “it’s pretty much obligatory. There’s a new fish place in Los Altos, got a good review Tuesday in the Examiner so I made a reservation for eight.”
“Nice to be considered a lady,” she said dropping her hand from his elbow to the top of his thigh. She wondered sometimes if he caught her allusions, ‘she gets too hungry for dinner at eight’ was he too young to remember Sinatra?
Jerry sold insurance, and was very good at it. His Mercedes was a year old and paid for, his house in Los Altos appraised for four hundred and eighty thousand, and his girlfriend could wear a low-cut blouse that showed off her 37-inch cleavage, a miniskirt so short she almost had to powder two more cheeks and look so good doing it, teenage boys got erections.
Katie wasn’t hurting. Her first husband owned three restaurants, and she was an outstanding housekeeper, keeping both a six-bedroom ski lodge in Big Bear and a townhouse in Saratoga. She seduced Arlette’s husband, who owned a string of liquor stores, using all the tricks Arlette learned in six years of marriage, and was photographed doing it. Of course, Arlette fucked the restaurateur taking Katie’s advice on the buttons to push and were they were located. Nobody remarked on the fact that the private investigator that faithfully recorded everything, including the restaurateur’s tongue traveling into Arlette’s snatch, had also been employed to portray Arlette’s bootlegger, licking up Katie’s nipples. Of course, it never got to court, or to the stage where such things might get questioned, and the P.I. was quite happy to wait until his clients collected their settlements. This is what was known as a Sunnyvale settlement, and it was responsible for close to half the Cadillac sales in the Santa Clara Valley.
The restaurant was a little to the right of so-so, and they didn’t linger. Instead they tried Harley Quinn’s, a bar near enough to his house that the chances of being busted going home was pretty slim. They were known at Harley’s, his scotch and her gimlet. It was standing room only so they stood all the way in the back where no one noticed the fact that he had his hand under her skirt and was gently stroking her. Needless to say, Harley only lasted the one drink.
They went straight to the bedroom and Jerry was moving faster than she wanted despite being stroked in the bar, she hasn’t that hot, and hated it when she couldn’t cum. She pinned his arms in a bear hug, whispered, ‘my turn’ and slowly undressed him, getting down to his pants, dropping them and kissing his dick as it popped out. Then she sat him on the bed and removed the last articles.
She sat on his thigh straddling it between her legs to excite herself as she stripped, then she pushed him onto the bed and turned her back to him.
He reached under her and put his hand on her tit, playing with it. He always teased her, rubbing up her legs, over her ass and across her back before setting up Rosie and her sisters between her legs.
Katie was a very vocal lover, she didn’t have to be, when she came it was fast, but she liked the buildup, she didn’t talk, she moaned and squealed. Sometimes she put a hand over his to guide him to the right spot, and sometimes she’d press the hand on her tits, so he’d caress them tighter, but most of the time she just let him work at it. He learned to recognize the half laugh; half sigh that accompanied her orgasm.
He’d relax and roll on his back, she rolled over and took the lead, inserting him inside her, placing his hands where she wanted them. Usually she brought her knees forward and sat up on him, putting his hands on her breasts and using kegel to squeeze him into coming.
He fell asleep quickly, she didn’t. And she lay awake, thinking. Despite her bravado with Arlette, she loved the security Jerry represented and was afraid of losing that. She wished he’d propose, but all in all, that didn’t seem likely.