Ex-Pat Blues

‘What are you up to now, Honey?’

‘A motel. I thought I would see if I could seduce a student and spend the night fucking his brains out.’

‘That is my girl!’ He approved. We ended the call, then I glared at the phone, he had never asked anything about the place I had found!

I stood up, thanking about that bath, when someone knocked on the room door.

I stared at it, ah hell, who was I kidding? Someone? I knew who, never mind how she knew this was my room, maybe she read it off my key as I did hers, maybe she got the smartly dressed girl on reception to give it up. It had not been a polite tap, and in case I did not get it the knock sounded again, hard, demanding, a KGB knock in the early hours. “We know you are in there, stop fucking us about and open the door!”

I stepped toward the door and stopped, my knees could not hold me up, they had turned to jelly, and my whole legs were shaking.

‘Who is it?’ I heard myself squeak, telling myself it might be the two men, trying their luck, knocking on doors, looking for the dyke on her own, ready and willing for a lesson on how a woman should really put out.

‘Kira,’ of course it was her. ‘You did not come,’ she added plaintively. ‘Are you afraid of me?’

Of course I was, I was afraid of her, and of me, of things spiralling out of control. The thing about roads is you never know where they go, now that defo is Tolkien! Stepping on a road is dangerous, they can take you to Mirkwood, to the Lonely Mountain.

I took another step on my wobbling legs, on my side of the door a sign hung on the knob, French of course, but universal, “Do Not Disturb” why had I not put it on the outside of the door? Would Kira have taken any notice? In the middle of the cylindrical handle was a large switch, it was pointing to a word in raised letters “Ouvrir” unlocked, one more step and I could reach it, switch it to “Serrure” and go back to my bath, and sleep alone, safe.

My leg would not move, the knob twisted, and the door opened, inwards, Kira slipped quickly through, shutting the door, putting her back firmly to it, reaching behind to lock the door, her smile was predatory, and terrifying.

The scent of her shocked me back to the Excalibur Club, the miasma rising from all those dancers, I recalled how afterwards I had been in mortal fear that the Navy Wives I was forced into the company of would find out I had been somehow, too dumb to realise most of the clientele probably were Navy Wives like me, looking for exciting company while their husbands were months gone, and avoiding the complication of a male lover.

Kira has changed her outfit, she came prepared for a workout, she had on sodium yellow designer trainers with red stripes and laces, no socks, from ankle to high on the hip her legs were bare, tanned and perfect. Her upper torso was clad in a form fitting snow white leotard that was utterly drenched in perspiration, I could feel the heat of that sweat leaching into the room, along with the scent, it had turned the outfit almost transparent, only the padding at the gusset remained opaque. The sleeves stopped at her elbows, the cuffs and collar were heavy, sponge like they had gathered much of the sweat. Her legs and arms glowed with blood heat, and soft trickles of sweat formed rivulets. Her hair was lank, she tossed her head a little as she studied me, barring the door, little whips of hair flopped about and threw off tiny droplets, her high forehead was leaking sweat down into her eyes, she kept blinking it free, the tip of her tongue suddenly lashed out to gather the beads of moisture gathered over her upper lip.

Must have been one hell of a workout! I noted the little towel gathered about her tiny waist, looped to hold it in place, it was too thin to be of use as a proper towel, and it too was soaked, I guessed she used it to clean the seats on the apparatus after each weight slamming session. About her left wrist was a plain elasticated band with a split ring looped onto it, she had mated it to the ring on the key card. Room 412.

I pointed to it rather lamely. ‘You are in the wrong room,’ I said, my voice quivering.

Her predatory smile seals up, her eyes are on me, I swear she is waiting for me to try and dash past her, to escape, she plants her shoulders harder against the door, leaning back, her free hand goes to the band, flips it and the key off her wrist, she tosses it past me, onto the bed, it lands on the map with a plopping sound. ‘I think not,’ she said, very softly. She flexes her fingers, and I notice her rings are gone, she is not wearing earrings either, although her ears are pierced. She unloops the towel, passes it over her forehead, careful not to cover her eyes, it is too wet to do anything other than smear the rivulets for a brief moment, then they spring back. She balls up the towel and tosses it to the bed also.

‘I need a shower,’ she told me, still in that soft tone, watching me. ‘Get me a clean towel.’

She sounded like a woman used to being obeyed, who expects to be obeyed. Out of a lifetime habit of obedience I turn away and walk to the bathroom, my shivering legs slowly firming back up. Crowded on the twin towel rail are two bath sheets and two of a medium sized towel handy for wrapping around long hair to dry. I peeled off a bath sheet and took it back to her.

Kira had stepped away from the door, into the bedroom proper, I freeze, the towel in my hand, in the scant moment it took me to get the towel she has peeled off the leotard and is fussing at it, holding it out, shaking out the thing she takes two steps to the open balcony door and drapes it over the rail, goose bumps dance among the beads of perspiration as the winter air explores her skin. All she is wearing are the sunflower trainers with the red trim bright as freshly spilled blood. She is completely free of any body hair, as with the ladies of the Wives Club who affected that habit it seemed to my eyes to make her look vulnerable, unprotected.

Stepping back, deliberately or not she is once again standing between me and the exit door, I look and sure enough, she has set the knob to locked, though a mere twist would correct that. I held out the towel, offering, she ignored it, combed her fingers through her short pale hair, scattering moisture out of it down onto her shoulders and the firm curves of her breasts, her nipples are small, but hard peaked, perhaps reacting to the cold wind from the patio; muscles play across her stomach as she strokes her hair into order, firm ropes that sculpt the inside of her skin, other tight muscles play in her shoulders and down her back.

For the moment I might be invisible, she pays me no attention, or the towel she has demanded. She sits on the edge of the bed, pushing the map to one side after glancing at it, crosses one long leg over the other and the trainer on the raised leg points to me, she flips open the lace and then extends the leg more. ‘Help me,’ she tells me calmly. She sets her hands down on the bed to hold herself in place as I put the towel aside on the bed, take her trainer in both hands and pull it.

The shoe comes free with reluctance, making a small popping sound as her bare foot is revealed, the scent of her is tripled and my head swims. She re-crosses her legs and pokes me on the thigh with her other trainer in silent demand, I struggle with the second, the scent is addling my wits, affecting my coordination. I stagger when it comes free and drop it to the floor beside the other.

Kira leans back on the bed, looking at me sardonically, almost mocking. She is gloriously nude, sheened in perspiration like some ancient goddess fresh from the hunt. I am shivering all over, and not from the draft. ‘Am I in the wrong room?’ She asks me, her eyes narrowing to slits.

I shook my head slowly, unable to do anything but stare, and shiver. Kira let out a soft laugh, a rather mean sound, she twists over and pushes herself more onto the bed at the same time, lying face down on it, but her knees are on the floor, her lower legs curl up, bringing her bare feet to rest against the perfect curves of her bum, she arches her back and her spine becomes ribbed like some fantastic escalator, her arms she spreads, embracing the bed, her matted hair is parted, exposing the nape of her neck, one of her arms curls a moment, her fingers touch the spot where her spine enters her head. ‘Kiss me, here.’ It is not a request; she is commanding me still.

I hesitated, not that I was unwilling, excitement was flooding down out of my belly into my hips, falling like little waterfalls into a pool of spreading desire. With stunted steps I went to the side of the bed and knelt as she was, but with my elbows resting on the mattress, like a child about to say her prayers before bedtime. I leaned down and the heady scent of her was a powerful drug to my mind, driving out any rational thought. My lips touched the nape of her neck and a powerful hit of spiced salt struck up into my mouth, I heard myself croon in animal delight and pressed harder, opening my mouth to encompass as much of her skin as I could, my tongue swirling greedily, gathering up the sharp nectar of her, swallowing it and gathering more.

My mouth caught the deep gasp of banquet, my ears were drowned in the shrill humming of my own blood, tearing through me, I was panting, my breasts labouring, struggling to suck in air when my whole focus was on drinking the ambrosia from her skin. My mouth moved slowly down the ridges of her spine where the perspiration had gathered in the little valley it formed, licking and hoovering it up, the salt feeding my lust for her juices, like a crazed sailor helplessly swallowing salt water and going insane from the contradiction of life-giving water and mind blowing salt.

A hand had reached into my hair, awkwardly, tugging, pushing, demanding I keep going, as if I would be denied! My greedy mouth siphoned off every drop down to where the valley rose up to a little hill, then dipped deep into a canyon between two firm hills, I nuzzled into the canyon, stretched deep with my tongue, lapping up the little pool that had settled there, draining it, using my hands to steady the feeding ground as it writhed beneath me, I feasted and then felt my prize slipping away, I clutched harder but Kira was too strong, I heard her breathing, as heavy as mine, as she twisted, denying me the deep crease, skin tight over bone slipped over my mouth and I took what deposits I could from it, then a bonanza presented itself to me, a deep cleft hole, her belly button, her whole body flinched as my tongue lapped into it, but eager hands encouraged me to keep going.

I was dimly aware of legs as strong as bridge supports swinging around, taking up position like a cradle around my head, damp bare feet planting onto my back, wetting the fabric of my blouse, implacable hands pushed on the top of my head, forcing me out of the rich watering hole, over a soft plain and then into another valley, one rich and damp and fragrant beyond all greed, as I pressed my face down onto it my lips and tongue exploded into it, strip-mining the salty honeypot, plundering mercilessly while fierce hands tore at my hair and slapped at my face, my knees scrabbled at the floor, my hands gripped the strong towers of legs, grabbing purchase to dive deeper, deeper into the rich well of life.