CHEATED

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Chapter 2. BONER

But that was my world at the ripe age of 20, with no vision of my options, my potential or what lay ahead. One divorce and nine years later, funny man Russell and I fit together like a light bulb in a socket. He proved to me that a man does indeed have two balls. It was a lesson I enjoyed. He opened my heart and tickled me and teased me and licked me and laughed with me. He taught me to enjoy being a woman with a man. I kept an eye on the hotel show calendar so I would know when to expect Russell the Muscle’s call. Faithfully, and I say that in the loosest sense of the word, the phone rang about 5pm the afternoon he arrived in town.

“Babe. It’s your muscle man.” Russ relished his nickname. “I just got in from London; the six-hour time difference still has me confused. When I go to dinner, I feel sexy. When I go to bed, I feel hungry. So, you feeling hungry or sexy?” What can I say, he was Borsht Belt comedy. It worked for me.

I put on my slinkiest LBD (little black dress), silky sheer black stockings and the spikiest black patent leather stilettos of a no-name brand I could afford. It would all be on the floor of the hotel room in about 30 minutes, but first impressions dazzle. I let Annie and Susan know it would be a late night for me, and that I was dropping Todd at a friend’s on my way. Then Todd

and I hopped into my white Oldsmobile with the bloody guts interior – Russ’s name for the red leatherette seats. If it was a balmy night we put the convertible top down and let the wind fly through our hair. A sure-fire mother son bonding moment. With Todd handled, I sped down the highway to Russell’s love nest.

“Knock knock,” and the door of his hotel room swung wide. As I tumbled into his arms, his broad hands smoothed across my shoulder blades down the length of my back to the top of my ample cheeks. Leaning forward, Russell tipped me back in a classic Tango dip, his mouth and tongue closed in on my bright red lips. One of my best features, by the way. First, he nibbled at my full bottom lip, a little flick of his tongue across my tulip shaped top lip, it slid across my pearly whites and deeply deeply explored my mouth in a hot face to face embrace.

With James Bond-like style, I felt a tingle down my spine as he slowly unzipped my LBD, staring into my eyes as if to share a hidden message of life and lust. He slipped the silky fabric over my hips and across my thighs. I was already flat on my back on the bed as I glimpsed the sinuous black fabric sail across the room to land neatly on the armchair. Somehow the nylons were off and shimmering from the tips of my toes as his thigh spread my legs in such a graceful maneuver that like a rosy bud pushing up towards the warmth of the spring sun, my hips lifted to meet his bulging boner. Blood pulsed in my throat and flushed across my breasts as he bit first my right nipple and then had the left one warm in his mouth.

Russell’s second performance of the night was already in progress as I slid onto the stool at the end of the bar. Tom, our favorite bartender, placed a champagne cocktail in front of me, “Hey Lori.” He greeted me, adding the cherry on top.

“Thanks Tommy, how’s the show going?”

“He’s hot tonight. They’re eating him up.”

I smiled remembering how he had eaten me up, and took a sip of champagne for an excuse to move my tongue across my lips in hopes of discovering a lingering taste of jizz.

After the show, he wound his way through the crowd to find me. Tommy had a scotch, neat, waiting for him, and we ordered dinner from the bar menu. Audiences are generally respectful once the show is over, but a few of the ladies couldn’t help themselves and strutted by, boas swirling over cleavage for his benefit. Russ was a gentleman, offering a nod or subtly raising his glass in a toast of appreciation.

Back in his room, we spooned in bed, doubly satisfied. “I’ll be back in town in two weeks.” He told me stroking my hair. “Shows both nights. Can I call you for dinner?”

I loved the manners, the hesitancy, as if he needed to ask permission. As if we were dating. I don’t know what we had, but it wasn’t an old-fashioned courtship. Besides, he wasn’t an exceptionally stable role model for my children, and he was only in town for short jaunts during the tourist season. The fun lasted two years until the audiences moved to Miami and Asheville, and Russell the Muscle’s career took him to other hotels. I knew I would never be his wife.

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