The Trophy Case

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Chapter Five

They took off from San Jose just after noon on Sunday. The A and H conglomerate owned four jets, the one they were taking was the largest and most expensive despite being known as ‘Trailer Trash’. The sobriquet had been bestowed on it because the inspiration for its interior was the largest New Horizons single wide, and the trailer manufacturer had actually installed it in the plane. It was a perfectly livable apartment that allowed A and H executives an extra living space in any environment.

She surprised him by only bringing two suitcases with her.

“Only two suitcases?” he asked. “Not sure yet?”

“Somewhere, sharing this very same airspace, Dad and Alana are headed for New York. Tomorrow you and Dad go to work, leaving me and my almost stepmother at sixes and sevens. Well like all women who haven’t maxed out their cards, we will solve this dilemma by shopping.

“Tuesday Alana will be busy, and sometime between Monday night and Tuesday night I will put on a little fashion show for you… maybe both nights.

“Wednesday, knowing what you like, react best to, we will exchange, return and otherwise reshape my closet so that Mikey will always get to see Elle in an outfit that gets to him.”

“You don’t have to wear anything for me.”

“Was that a double entendre?”

“It was.”

“Will the crew bother us?”

“This is the only plane without a stewardess, just a pilot and co-pilot, and they have their own facilities.”

“So, we have a bar, a bedroom, privacy and some four hours to kill?”

“Actually, a bit more than that,” he said and walked over to the decent sized refrigerator and started pulling out containers and setting them on the bar. Then he pulled down two platters and four bowls, all Depression glass, from an overhead cupboard.

“My sister would come in her jeans over those,” said Elle, “and she could probably tell you what they are.”

“Your sister is into this kind of thing? Well, these are United States Glass Company, Flower Garden in canary glass. She was the one in the red Keds? Pretty girl.”

“I wish you’d tell her that sometime.”

“Self-image problems?”

“In purple spades.”

“As a general rule that only requires the right man for the job.”

He laid out cold cuts, antipasto, shrimp on one platter, a cheese board with grapes and water crackers on the other. Then filled the bowls with mustard, cocktail sauce, pesto and remoulade. Then he put saran wrap over them and stepped out from behind the bar.

“We’re not eating?”

“Need to build an appetite first,” he said backing her into the bedroom.

“Of course, I’m going to cheat a bit,” he said after a kiss and her loss of a blouse and bra.

“Sorry, addictions are tough,” he said laying her on the bed orally stimulating her tits and neck between kissing her with a fair amount of tongue.

After a while he started expanding his area of operations, getting inside her arms and down below her navel.

Her skirt and panties came off and his fingers slid inside her as he moved his assault back up to her tits. She came three times in rapid succession; squeezing him so tightly he couldn’t miss it. Then she grabbed him and put him inside her. The first act of any kind of aggression she displayed with him.

She came again, and he followed shortly afterward.

“You never would have made it as an ice queen you know that?”

“I thought I did pretty well, why do you say that?”

“You cum too easily.”

She chuckled, “Only with you and Vinny.”

“Vinny?”

“Vinny Vibrator. Didn’t you say something about the best man for the job? You want to nibble some more or do we move on to the main course?”

He noticed a tear leak out of her eye and caught it on his finger. “Still scared?”

“I’ve never been this happy, in fact I don’t think I’ve ever been happy. You love me like that and something in the back of my mind keeps saying ‘it’s too good’ and I think about losing it. Hell, I’m going to hate you going to work because you will have fallen down an elevator shaft, been in a traffic accident, gotten mugged, been shot in a robbery, all in my mind before you get home.

“Am I not wearing anything, right?”

“Nobody does it better.”

Chloe was back in the bookstore Sunday.

“What do you pay your extra clerk for the weekend?” she asked Eric.

“Ten bucks an hour.”

“A hundred sixty?”

“No, he only works noon to five.”

“He need the job?”

“Threatens to quit all the time.”

“So, let’s bargain. Hour for hour, even up, ten hours on the couch for ten hours in the store?”

“You’re kidding, right.”

“No, I drive down, spend the weekend, and you pay daily. I’ll even bring food.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess we need a friendlier environment for negotiation. Let’s go upstairs.”

She got him on the couch and quickly removed her blouse and bra. ’The man’s on second no outs, no score, second inning,” she said and started the festivities.

He fell right into it. Chloe never realized it but she was an incredibly sexy woman. Her D cups, wide thighs and hips, along with an impressive caboose would never make it on the runway, but in bed (or on a couch) supermodels couldn’t compete. Eric was high as a kite in no time.

Chloe straddled his leg, like before and really got into the thrills his fingers were coaxing out of her nipples and aureoles, and kissing him was just the icing on the cake. She felt it build up and put his hand between her legs, he took it off and put her hand between his legs, then put it back. Somehow, even through bike shorts and jeans they managed to masturbate each other.

“Third base,” said Chloe. “Final offer, two hours couch. One hour store.”

“Didn’t that go in the wrong direction?” Eric answered.

“Third base prices,” She said. “I go to the gynecologist Tuesday. When the pill kicks in and you score, I get really expensive.”

XI. Second Hand Prose

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