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Hours later, as we entered the hotel lounge, a woman seated on a bar stool across the room waved energetically and made eye contact with Dick. His arm around my waist protectively, Dick guided me forward to the bar.

“Dick.” The woman sang, and lifted her high ball glass in a toast, “So nice to see you.”

“Mercy.” Dick replied nodding his head in her direction. Standing next to her with ice clinking in a similar glass full of smoky gold liquid was a tall, craggy faced man with a deep smoky gold complexion, to match his drink.

“Dick, good to see you.” He stood and reached forward to meet Dick’s outstretched hand in a warm handshake.

“Rod, glad you made it.” Dick answered then looked at me with a smile, “Lorelei, I’d like you to meet Mercy and Rod Dixon. Longtime friends from Kentucky.”

Mercy reached towards me, and I realized she wanted to clasp my hand in greeting. I leaned past Rod, offering my hand. My shoulder brushed awkwardly against his jacket buttons in the confined space. Her grip was firmer than I anticipated, and her smile seemed genuine as she said in a Kentucky twang, “Lorelei? What an unusual name. So pleased to meet you.”

“Lorelei.” Rod echoed placing the accent on the first syllable, as I leaned back to the safety of Dick’s arm, “What a very pleasant surprise that you could join us.” Then allowing no time for response, he turned to Dick and raised his glass, “Four Roses Old Fashioned. One for you?”

“Thanks but no.” Dick said as he caught the bartender’s attention, “Kir Royale for the lady,” he looked at me for confirmation and I nodded agreement, “and Grey Goose martini for me, dry, mist the vermouth, and three olives.”

“Yes sir, coming right up.” The bartender assured him.

“You still drinking that northern stuff?” Rod cajoled, “You’re missing out on our smooth Kentucky whiskey.”

“Oh Rod,” Mercy chimed in, “Nothing too sweet for our Dick.”

As I listened to the banter, feeling quite off balance, I once again wondered if Dick and all his friends were masters of the double meaning. What I did get is that I’m a surprise, my name is odd, and I’m not too sweet.

As we were seated in the dining room, Dick’s friends Axel and Randelle joined us at the table. Greetings and introductions led into ordering dinner and conversation about the textile business and other conferences. Axel and Randelle were New Yorkers relocated to Florida for most of the year, and their accent felt comfortable in my ears. By the end of the meal, I was hopeful they could be new friends.

As we said our goodnights and headed to the elevators, Randelle invited me to join her for a visit to the spa in the morning, and a light lunch. Mercy begged off, saying she wanted nothing to do with those hot sauna rooms, and was headed straight for a day of shopping deals at the Dangler outlets.

As Mercy and Rod stepped out on the 21st floor, and the doors slid shut leaving Dick and I blissfully alone, I heard Rod intone, “Well, sweetheart, buy yourself something nice, real nice.”

I felt myself relax into Dick in the dim light of the elevator. I watched our reflection in the tinted mirrors as he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him with comforting strength. We rode to the top floor in silence. Once in our suite, Dick loosened his tie and tossed his jacket on a chair. He plopped onto the couch and unceremoniously dumped his shoes on the floor. I had put my purse and wrap on the entry table. My stilettos dangled in my hand.

I felt curiously let down after the evening with his friends. I hoped for a warm welcome to the Dick Grand Fan Club. Randelle aside, it felt like I had been judged lacking. Perhaps it was envy towards the one who took Dick Grand off the eligible bachelor list. Is that what I had done? Taken Dick Grand off the singles market?

He patted the couch beside him as I padded past towards the bedroom. His hand caught mine and tugged me down on top of him. I let the shoes fall to the floor next to his, and was instantly caught in his embrace and demanding kisses. Without warning or finesse, his strong hands hoisted up my skirt and were inside my stockings urgently kneading. The pressure moved between pain and exquisite pleasure. The sounds escaping my throat encouraged him to keep up the pace until I sagged across him depleted.

That was when he rolled on top of me, somehow whisking my dress over my head and simultaneously lowering himself to bury his face in the red flesh of my labia. With gentle strokes of his tongue, he coaxed the spent petal to fill and bulge again with desire as his tongue flicked and licked. As I squirmed under his manipulations, his wide hands gripped my butt cheeks, fingers titillating my anus.

“Yes!” I begged, “Yes!” And with spit and fluids, his finger slid up my hole sending my body into spasms of ecstasy. Moans turned to screams as his finger moved in and out, thick and slick, in and out. Suddenly I found myself on top of him, his trousers dangling to the side, and I grasped his one-eyed monster and gobbled it with the desperation of a starving woman. I sucked it deep into my mouth, letting my jaw muscles massage his snake, pulling out, powering back, suctioning the tip, squeezing the shaft. And when he released his ejaculate into my throat, I swallowed with fervor, taking every part of him into myself and owning it.

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