Ten
Yardley
I never made it into the bank that Monday. My intentions were to head that way and find out all I could about Rayne Waters. However, before Lisa could get the deposits in order, I received a shocking telephone call. Roxie, the number one stunna, the woman I’d fantasized about throughout high school even after she’d caught me with Angel the hooker, called me out of the blue and asked me to lunch. There was no way I was rejecting her. Felix and Mike had both seen her recently and swore she was the finest thing walking.
I met her at B. Smith’s in Union Station at noon. She was easy to spot. All I had to do is search for a little slice of heaven. She was still classy. She still had the wavy black hair and the sensuous brown eyes, but there was more. Roxie looked mature, as we all did, but there was still something more. Roxie looked like she could make a man have a seizure in bed. She had the look the brothers and I refer to as “DS.” Yes, Roxie was definitely a DS. Roxie had turned into a dick slayer. It was written all over her pretty ass face.
We stood there in the entryway, hugging and admiring each other’s new look, until the hostess was ready to seat us at a cozy table by a window.
“Roxie, I can’t get over how great you look,” I said, continuing to shower her with compliments like I had been for the past ten minutes. “When I heard you were back in town, I was hoping we’d run into each other at some point. I never expected you to call, but I’m sure glad you did.”
Roxie gave me the eye. The I-know-I-can
-wrap-your-ass-around-my-little-finger-if-I-want-to eye. The one all women that are fine, who realize they are fine, dole out from time to time.
“How’d you know I was back from Minnesota, anyway?” she asked.
“Felix and Mike. They said they ran into you at a charity function.”
“Yes, now I remember,” she replied, a slight giggle escaping her sexy ass lips. I’m not sure what hue of lipstick she was wearing, but it was definitely doing her justice. I had to keep my mouth shut to prevent the drool from coming out. “They were at the benefit for the Washington Hospital Center. Why weren’t you there? Aren’t you a doctor?”
“Chiropractor. I didn’t go because I was under the weather that night. I hooked Felix and Mike up with the tickets I’d planned to use. They’re always interested in helping out the needy.”
That was a straight-up lie. Felix and Mike swiped those tickets from me because they knew there would be a lot of fine, eligible sisters at the event.
“Well, I hope you weren’t too ill. I’d hate to see you lose any stamina; especially now. You might need it later today.”
I’d instructed my dick to stay down on the way over to the restaurant. I had given him a lecture to that effect. “No matter how good she looks, Dick, stay the hell down.” Once Roxie made that sexual innuendo, Dick said, “Fuck you, Yardley! Better yet, let’s both fuck her! Let’s get ready to rumble!”
We had a magnificent lunch, but the dessert was a hundred times better. I took Roxie to my penthouse and wore her ass out. I’d waited more than a decade to smoke her boots, and the wait was well worth it. Roxie did things to me they don’t even show on the Playboy channel; things I’d only heard rumors about. Yes, she was a dick slayer and then some. The look is always a dead giveaway.
It all played out like something from a late-night movie on Cinemax–Skinamax as the fellas call it because of all the tits and ass they can see on any given night after midnight. Roxie slipped out of her red two-piece suit less than a minute after we’d walked into my penthouse. The only words preceding her quick exit from clothing were “nice place.” Before I could thank her, her blazer was already off, exposing this red lace bra that could’ve only been described as “lovely.” Her breasts were even lovelier as she slipped the bra straps down off her shoulders with one hand and unfastened the clasp behind her back with the other. I was gauging her to be about a C-cup, which meant she’d gotten a little top heavier since high school. The fellas and I used to always bet on bra cup sizes for certain girls back in our immature years. Once one of us had actually made out with a girl—normally that meant someone other than me because I did very little in high school, period—they’d come back and report the actual cup size after examining the label in the girl’s bra. No one had ever gotten the opportunity to see Roxie’s bra but we could tell she was a B-cup. She was the same size as three other girls Felix had bedded down for sport.
I was admiring her breasts while she continued to provocatively undress. I licked my lips as she dropped her skirt, exposing a pair of red lace thongs that matched her bra. Damn, she was sexy as hell!
I stopped her there, picked her up and carried her to my bedroom. After I laid her on the bed, I said, “I want to take the rest off. I’ve waited years for this. Allow me to relish it.”
She grinned. “Okay, but Yardley…”
“Yes?”
“I can’t go on until I tell you that I’ve always wanted you. That night, at your birthday party, I was planning to go all the way with you. I’d spent hours getting ready, making sure my body was prepared for your taking. I’d even masturbated so my pussy juices would be marinated for you, for your touch.”
Shit! I thought. I missed out on all that and possibly more than a decade of good loving because of a hooker named Angel with musty feet!
While she continued talking and playing with her nipples, my dick got even harder than it already was—something I didn’t deem physically possible. I traced my fingertip down the side of her panties and slipped it under the lace. I dipped it inside her vagina, took it out and licked it. “Did you do that today, before we met for lunch? It damn sure tastes marinated to me.”
Roxie giggled. “No, now it’s seasoned pussy. All things get better with age; contrary to what some men believe who always want to trade their women in for younger models.”
“I agree,” I said. “It does get better with age.”
“So does dick,” she said, caressing my privates through my pants. “I bet you have a nice, sweet, juicy dick. Um, it feels like it’s about what, nine inches?”
“Give or take a centimeter,” I replied jokingly. “Want to see it?”
“Yes but only on one condition.”
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