SATISFY MY HUNGER
(Something Addictive #7 )
The hotel doors whooshed open, and with the harsh morning sun playing tricks with her eyes, she hobbled out in the same shoes she had escaped in the night before. The stilettos were killing her swollen feet. She cursed them and promised herself to never again buy another pair.
When she was certain no one was watching, she took them off and walked barefoot across the hotel parking lot thanking God her Lexus LS was exactly where John had left it the night before.
Gathering up her skirt, she shoved herself into the car, and turned the key. Throwing it into reverse, she caught a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror and gasped at the sight of black mascara under bloodshot eyes, wild blonde hair, smeared lipstick and blotchy skin.
Yuck! No wonder George had hooked up with that slut in their hotel. How could she blame him? Besides, he owed her nothing. He was just being a normal red blooded all American horny man doing what comes naturally.
Who'd blame him? He'd probably thought there was no chance of having any sex with her the way things had been going. After all if she couldn't stand WORKING with him, how and hell was she going to have an affair with him? Not that she wanted too, but even if she did, how could she compete?
She couldn't forget what she'd seen. That pretty painted face looking all smug and content. George looking at her smiling and disheveled. His suit coat, shirt and necktie hanging off his arm. The coup de grace was him slapping her on the ass.
Exhausted from thinking about it all, she put her head down on the steering wheel and sobbed. Fluffy whimpered and begged to be held. Ignoring her, she ranted. "What in hell have I become? I'm not even fit to watch a poor little puppy dog. Chances are I don't even have my right mind back yet!"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
TRUTH WAS, REBA HAD BEEN OUT OF HER MIND. Almost everything in her mind, came nowadays, from her husband's and parents recollections.
One year earlier, a boating accident on the Charles River left her in the hospital with no memory. Her husband John visited her weekly at a nursing facility near Mass General where she was being rehabilitated.
He along with her parents fed her bits and pieces about her life before the accident. Everyday it became a matter of connecting dots to try and paint the picture of her life to reconstruct her memory.
Eventually, because of her medical condition and amnesia, she was taken off her father's and mother's family trust. In her place, John was made sole trustee. Four months later her father died, and two months after that, her mother.
When her grief had subsided enough, she went through her mother's papers. They confirmed that John still controlled everything, but to her relief, she found, she once again was a trustee--this time to her aunt's trust that had named her mother as trustee and her as the successor trustee.
Contacting her great aunt's attorney, he took care of the legal work that was needed. Within days, Reba had total financial independence. "Control my money, control my life," became her mantra as she sought to try and unravel the mysteries of not only her own life, but life with a husband, who continued to feel like a stranger.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Eventually Reba gave up searching for answers. She came to accept the realities of her life and the emptiness of not having a man in it.
That changed when she went to the Pal Alto branch of her company for two weeks and had her one and only affair. It was as if a dam had burst. It didn't last, but at least she learned from the experience, she was a lusty woman when it came to needing a man to share her bed.
She didn't regret the affair. God only knew it felt wonderful to be held. But towards the end of it, she realized that although Gabe was nice guy, he was simply an appetizer. One that simply took that edge off her immediate hunger, but always left her less than satisfied: intellectually, emotionally and physically.
No sooner had she resigned herself to Gabe leaving her life, when George came into it, dramatically becoming a part of her life, and flip-flopping her emotions daily, from anger to adoration.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Realizing she'd sat in her car way too long, Reba decided she'd better get out of the hotel's parking lot before the cops let John out of jail. She wouldn't put it past him to come and steal her car again. Or worse yet, take her and her car back to her home and force her to sign more papers.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Figuring the best place to hide the car, would be on the roof of her company's executive parking area, she proceeded up Massachusetts Avenue where she spotted Donnie, a street guy that opened doors for her and hailed taxi cabs. If no one else called out her name on a gloomy day, he would. She always gave him a two bucks for his Spare Change News but it was more for the sunshine he spread than the latest news on the plight of the homeless.
"Hey Reba," he called out running towards her waving his newspapers. But instead of meeting her car half way in the middle of the street as he usually did, he abruptly turned back and stepped into the shadow of Harvard Coop's side entrance.
Then all hell broke loose. The sound of battle was all around her, the screams of cars, the clash of steel on steel, and the blast of pipe bombs. Donnie and two of his homeless friends sprang from dark doorways. Guns drawn they ran toward pedestrians showing their badges and scurrying them off the streets and into nearby stores.
Reba accelerated her Lexus and hightailed it up towards MIT's Cantab Bar in Central Square. The Bronco behind her speeded up as she did. Why was he following her? More to the point, WHO WAS FOLLOWING HER?
****************
A road block stopped her minutes later in front of the Boston Globe where a cop motioned to her to put down her window.
"Reba, 'Spare Change Donnie' asked me to give this to you."
"How did you know it was me?"
Laughing he said, "Lady, he's right over there pointing at you and waving."
"Tell him thanks. Thanks to you too."
Closing her window she opened the envelope.
Dumping out a dog-eared yellow legal pad she recognized her own scrawl and fancy doodles staring back at her. On top was post-it note from Gorgeous George:
Hey Reba, You've got to stop writing your novel at work or you'll get fired. I found this on your desk. See you tonight I hope. Regards, George. P.S. Take good care of Fluffy.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Good Lord," she grumbled to herself, "Is nothing sacred anymore? What I do on my lunch hour is my business. Why was he snooping around my desk anyway?"
Face burning, she looked down at the words she'd written. There they were, in all their glory, with her silly doodled hearts and flowers in the margins.
SATISFY MY HUNGER
I feel you making room for your knee to tease me at the juncture of my thighs. I wrap my arms around you and feel your hands explore my body. You tease and my lust soars. My hand drops to the front of your pants where I feel your hardness: Demanding, damp, and desperate. I can't let you suffer like that. I unzip you and help you out. You groan. I moan. I slip my exploring hands along your hips and help you lower your pants. And then I take a good look at you, hard and erect, and sigh, "Oh, my God."
You throw me down; work your way down to dine on the sweet cleft between my legs until I am soaked. I beg you to continue. You retreat leaving me wanting more as you slide up to my breasts, thumb circles around my nips, coax them into small puckered roses; I thrash from the intensity of it all. Teasing me, you wrestle me playfully, make me lay me flat on my back. I fight you but you hold me down. You tantalize me, make me feel the tip of your hardness. I plead with you to take me and make me realize how sterile my life has been.
You tell me to close my eyes. I do. You tell me to open them. I find your erection looming over me--large enough to be worrisome--thrilling enough to challenge. Can we make it fit or not? My body goes crazy wanting to try, lubricates itself to prepare for your entry.
You pull away. I moan. You laugh and lift my head. You comfort me and tell me to be patient. You tell me you love me. I laugh with you and know you lie. But I don't care. Tonight is all I need. It's good enough. I take your erection in my palm, marvel at its length and breadth--guide its juicy thick hardness in to me--take you on one last wild ride before I disappear again.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Running her fingers sentimentally over the words she'd written, Reba slipped the legal pad into the side pocket of her big black leather brief case and sighed. Looking up she saw the traffic cop give her the go ahead. Relieved, she drove around the road block and headed towards her company. Looking in the rear view mirror her heart sank. Again, she was being followed.
Hitting the accelerator and making a sharp turn, she tried to lose the white Bronco. "Where's a cop when you need one?" she growled.
* * * * * * * * * * *
To Be Continued: "I've Got Your Back" (Something Addictive: Part 8)
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Submitted by:
Madison
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