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THE BLONDE’S APARTMENT was in McGregor, a small town a few miles outside Jasper. Her apartment was small but clean and well maintained. They entered through a door that led to a living area furnished with a very large brown leather sofa against one wall and an entertainment center as elaborate as any theater against the other.
Connected to the living area was a small kitchen with a bar—which must be where she took her meals because there was no dining table—and an island that doubled as a giant cutting board.
Hanging from the rack above it were well-polished copper and stainless-steel pots and pans. To the left was another door, the bedroom.
Throwing her keys on one of the shelves of the entertainment center the blonde said, “Have a seat. I’ll put the beer in the fridge. You want some wine in the meantime?”
The man sat slowly and winced at the farting noises the sofa produced as he slid back. “No, thank you.”
She took the six-pack from him and started toward the kitchen. “Suit yourself, sugar. You won’t mind if I have a glass to loosen things up?”
“No, go right ahead. Say, I didn’t catch your name.”
She put the beer into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of wine. As she poured a goblet of Merlot she said, “You never asked.”
Before he could respond, she said, “My name’s Tammy, cowboy. What’s your name?”
He hesitated for a moment and then said, “Paul.”
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Paul,” she said and sat beside him. She pulled in close to him so that their legs were touching. She put a hand on his thigh and rubbed slightly as she sipped her wine.
“So, tell me a little about yourself.”
“There’s not that much to tell,” he said and shifted position so that he faced her. He put one hand on the back of her neck and kneaded the flesh softly. He bent forward and kissed her jaw, moving slowly up until he reached her ear lobe.
She started breathing heavily and at that moment, all interest in this stranger’s personal life was forgotten. She put down her wine and laid back further into the sofa. She took his other hand and put it high up on her thigh.
“Touch me, cowboy,” she whispered hotly into his ear.
He slid his hand further under her skirt and probed her with his fingers. He could feel the stubble of pubic hair beneath the thin silk of her panties. He rubbed her softly, excited by her response.
Breathing heavily and rocking her hips as his finger moved faster beneath her skirt, she kissed his ears and his neck. There was an intense heat between her legs that rumbled up through her stomach. “Yes, honey, I like that,” she whispered.
He moved his face forward, toward her ample cleavage. He began kissing the tops of her breasts, moving from one to the other. He put his tongue between them, moving up, tasting her salty flesh.
“Oh,” she moaned. She reached for his crotch and found the bulge of his manhood. She ran her fingers over it; it felt huge within the confines of his jeans.
He reached down and grabbed her hand to halt her. “Let’s go into your bedroom.”
“Whatever you want,” she said. She licked his lips and laughed.
She took his hand and led him into her bedroom. It was furnished in oak and the walls painted a pastel blue. The bed was a king size and topped by a navy-blue quilt, with plush cobalt blue pillows strewn across the headboard.
As they walked into the room, she reached behind her and unzipped her dress. She let it fall, exposing breasts that were too cylindrical and firm to be real. She stood before him wearing only a garter belt and stockings.
“Is this the bathroom?” he asked, pointing to one of two doors on the right. He could feel his erection swelling, painfully.
“Yes,” she said and walked to the bed. She sat on the edge and leaned back, pulling her shoulders back to fully expose her breasts.
“I’m just going to be a minute,” he said.
“I hope not,” she said and laughed.
He smiled, but did not respond, although he took her reference to premature ejaculation.
“I’ll be right here, cowboy, ready to ride,” she said.
He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him.