High Centers

Sometimes you're stuck. Sometimes you have to go into the city on business even if you don't want to. People always look at me with curiosity when I get out of my truck, drop the tailgate, and lift the Trapper Nelson pack board with its big single bag onto my back. I don't care. I'm fine with who I am. The suede jacket and Aussie outback hat always make an impression. Sometimes I look less like I belong in the twenty-first century and more like I belong in a western movie.

There was a woman checking in at the front desk of the hotel where I was booked to stay. Very pretty. She was fairly short—just over five feet. She had significant curvers, a pretty face, and shoulder length blonde hair. Her eyes revealed her astonishment at my appearance. They flitted around the room but kept coming back to me. I'd seen it a thousand times. They all wonder if my manner matches my appearance.

I tipped my hat. "Ma'am."

A short, blurted laugh escaped her lips. She blushed, grabbed her keycard off the countertop, and headed to the elevator. I smiled when she turned. She rolled her eyes, but then they returned to me. The edges of her mouth turned up slightly as the doors closed.

"Who's she?" I asked the desk clerk.

"Sorry, sir. You know I can't tell you that?"

"Sure you can."

He shook his head. "No, sir. I could lose me job."

I sighed and nodded. "I need a room for a night. Something with a double bed or a queen would be fine."

"All right. If you'll fill out the registration?"

I filled in my information and handed him my credit card.

He slid a keycard across the counter and pointed at the elevator. "Third floor. Room 312. It's to the left of the elevator when the doors open. I've been booking everyone onto that floor so far tonight."

I grinned at him. It didn't really help me though. I could hardly knock on every door on the third floor, could I?

"A little after 6:30 in the evening, sir."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you'd asked the same question the woman before you had asked . . . about when the restaurant quiets down?"

I smiled and slipped him a twenty.

***

The room was fairly nice but bigger than I expected. I called the front desk.

"I asked for a queen or a double bed. I've got two queen size and a small living room area?"

"Same price, sir. I can put you in a smaller room if you like, but what would be the point?"

"Well, there's an adjoining room as well and I like my privacy."

"I can change the room if you like, sir, but it will have to wait until this evening."

"Well, I guess this is okay. As long as it's the same price. If I have problems tonight, I'll have you change it tomorrow."

I hung up. Not exactly what I was looking for. Bigger, but adjoining rooms always seem to let a lot of sound through. The room was set up like a meeting room with a four legged table instead of the usual round, single pedestal table. I took a quick nap and showered up. It had been a long drive, and I always felt better after a shower. I put on a little cologne and dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a dress shirt and headed downstairs to the restaurant.

There she was. She was sitting at a table alone reading a book. She was wearing a yellow chiffon dress that came to her knees. I pulled out a chair and sat down at her table.

"Ma'am."

She laughed. "Are you for real?"

"Meaning?"

"Are you really a cowboy?"

I shrugged. "I've had horses. Now-a-days I just play in the wilderness. Everyone else seems to go on a quad or a snowmobile, but I like the silence that walking affords."

"And you felt you could sit here beside me because. . . ."

"Because you're beautiful, and I'm acceptable, but mostly because I know who I am and have the confidence to just do it."

"Pretty full of yourself."

I let my gaze drift down her throat to her breasts. I looked at them without any shame. "I know something I like when I see it."

"You're quite a bit older than me." The woman had no problem holding her own. Some kind of egghead maybe. A debater?

I reached out and motioned for her book. She handed it to me. I read the title and the comments on the back of it out loud. "Imagined Communities. Anderson explores the processes that created these communities: the territorialisation of religious faiths, the decline of antique kingships, the interaction between capitalism and print, the development of vernacular languages-of-state, and changing conceptions of time." I shook my head and put the book back down in front of her. "I think you may be older than me."

She laughed. "It's interesting. Did you know that the first static borders didn't show up on maps until after the 1850s? All our history books show borders on maps as though there were always defining lines. There weren't."

"Really?"

"Did you know that with the printing press the projection of power became easier? It was nearly impossible to have a solid concept of nation prior to that because language changed so radically over short distances and transportation was difficult. The formalizing of language for transfer of knowledge also harmonization of languages facilitated the change from disparate dialects to larger language blocks."

"What about Rome? They ruled most of the known world."

She smiled and nearly smirked at me. "It was a city state . . . well, to begin with. Even the Rubicon line was about the city being free of military and not the outlying areas that we today would call Rome and Italy and beyond. Power was projected by that city state over dissimilar and fragmented peoples. Roads were the military transportation of the day, that's why they built so many roads."

"See? I told you, you're older than me. Are you some kind of egghead?"

"Yeah. Some kind. Anyway. The thing was that until recently, the world really was a series of high centers. Borders were indefinite."

"High centers?"

"Yes. Think of castles. They were protected areas which held only a very small part of the population. A series of castles was a way of projecting power farther and taking more . . . oh, let's call it taxation. Also, the longer a high center had been established the less likely it was to be threatened and the more likely it would be able to project power."

"And how would that affect you and me today?"

"A friend at the University says that the way women dress is about high centers. Everything important is covered and protected. It's not even open for viewing in case someone should decide they want what they see and try to take it."

My eyes caressed her body again. She blushed and looked away when my eyes narrowed and settled on her breasts for a second time. "Are there still guys like that out there?"

"I think there may be a few." She nearly gasped out the words. "There were areas that we now call march regions."

"Tell me about them. What's your name? I'm Gray."

"I'm Melissa. Is Gray really your name?"

"No. A friend called me that because it's the way I see most things in the world. Everyone picked it up."

The waiter interrupted us, took our order, and left.

"Where was I?" she asked.

"March regions."

"March regions. They were small areas between high centers where projection of power by both parties was too expensive. Sometimes they were empty because of the brutality of the two high centers. Sometimes they were free and left alone by both sides. When they were left alone, they were often used as a place where both centers could safely carry out trade. If they were between two peaceful high centers they were free economies with no taxation that were protected by both sides."

"Wouldn't those places be where wars would be fought though?"

She nodded. "Yes. For the longest time high centers jockeyed for position. Wars are expensive. The heads of the high centers, we'll call them kings, tended to get along fairly well. A real war would devastate marginal economies within the high centers themselves, so they'd often simply see who was the best tactician and then negotiate terms. People used to go out and watch the two armies try to outflank each other. Once one power knew the other had dominance, what would be the point of resisting. It would be far more expensive to use up all your resources and weaken yourself rather than request terms. It could even weaken you to the point of being an easy target for an uninvolved high center."

"Sounds like they could be good places to be. Were there any places people lived that were seriously victimized?"

"Yes. If people settled between a high center and an immovable barrier, an ocean, or an enclosing mountain range, they were often taken advantage of."

"That's not a great place to be is it. Were there advantages to such places as well?"

"Sometimes."

A large group of young men came into the restaurant over the next few minutes. Even chatting was becoming difficult. They were quite boisterous. I hailed the waiter.

"Yes, sir?"

"What's all this? I thought the restaurant would be quiet at this time of day."

"Baseball tournament."

"They're very noisy."

The waiter shrugged. "I'm sorry. There's really nothing I can do about it. They're behaving well enough."

"I see there's a dark, roped off section at the back. Can we move in there?"

"The manager doesn't like it because of the extra cost of lighting and cleaning."

"I think we're pretty clean." I looked at Melissa and smiled. She blushed again. Damn! "Maybe you have some candles for me and the lady? We could take a back corner booth to get away from the noise and you could keep the rest of it roped off?"

The waiter looked at me considering the situation. "You look like a good tipper."

I laughed and nodded understanding his meaning.

"We received a shipment of a very nice blueberry wine today. Would you like a bottle?"

"Sounds great."

He opened the section and then closed the rope barrier behind us and led us to a corner booth. I was a perfect gentleman letting Melissa walk ahead of me—so I could watch her hips sway. She slipped into the corner booth with her back against the wall and slid toward the corner. I sat beside her. The waiter returned with two candles and the bottle of wine, lit the candles, and left the room turning out the lights as he went leaving us bathed in the candlelight.

I poured Melissa a glass of wine and one for myself. Her soft brown hair to the shoulders. Her lips were full and inviting, and her eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

"So, tell me more about your theories."

"Well. It's really not until recently that—could you take your hand off my thigh please?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean you're backed into a corner and I'm checking your defenses . . . the strength of your march region. Just relax. This is a public place. You know you could end this any time you want to, but you don't want to."

I kissed her bare shoulder and smiled with satisfaction when she shuddered and her eyes closed. I slipped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my side.

"You're curious what a man like me might do with a woman like you, aren't you?"

Her eyebrows furrowed and she chewed on her lower lip. Her trembling hand came to rest on my leg.

"That's what I though, Melissa. Why are you here?"

"Weekend with a friend. She gets here tomorrow."

"I see." Her chest was rising and falling. I could see down the top of her dress as I held her. "So you're free to do whatever you please tonight?"

"Fuck," she gasped. "How are you doing this to me? My heart's pounding."

"You can sense my confidence. I'm no kid. I'm a man who knows what he wants and is willing to take the chance and go for it." I slid my hand higher up her thigh and kissed her neck. Her head tilted back and to the side allowing my mouth access to her throat. I slipped my hand inside the back of the dress and unfastened the clasp of her bra with one deft move. She gasped as the restriction suddenly failed.

"We can't be doing this, Gray. This is a public place."

"Lights are low. Nothing to worry about."

"Fuck."

"Yes, fuck."

She let out a desperate moan and turned her head toward me. I kissed her lips softly and they parted for my tongue. My hand slid up her thigh, her tight tummy, squeezed one of her breasts in passing, and caught her throat between my thumb and forefinger. A rush of breath escaped her lips.

"Everything okay, miss?" the waiter asked, giving me a concerned look.

"No, I . . . I mean, yes. We're fine," she gasped.

I pulled a fifty out of my wallet and placed it on the table. "I appreciate your confidence in this matter."

He snapped up the bill. "Are you sure you're okay, miss?"

"Yes, thank you." She was nearly purple from embarrassment.

"Meal's coming right out. Anything else I can do for you?"

"We're fine at the moment. Thanks," I said. He left us.

"Gray. Oh, I can't do this."

"There's nothing to do, but relax and enjoy. I'll look after you, Melissa."

She moaned when I pressed the palm of my hand against her mound and ground it against her. I kissed her forehead when her head fell to my shoulder. Her gorgeous breasts heaved from my actions.

"Waiter," I said quietly when I saw him approaching. She lifted her head as he laid out our meals.

"Anything else I can get you two?"

"No, thank you. Your service has been great. We'd like some privacy now. Bill the meal to room 317 and add an extra fifty as a tip."

He left us. Melissa and I ate quietly. The food was good, but I wolfed it down. While she was still eating, I asserted my dominance again. Her tight tummy heaved against my forearm as I rubbed and squeezed between her legs. I scrunched up the material of the dress, baring her panties, and pushed my hand inside. She gasped but spread for me. I pushed a finger inside her.

"No. I can't," she gasped as she caught my hand and pulled it harder against her.

"Melissa. It's obvious who is the better tactician here. It's time to negotiate terms." I pulled my finger out of her pussy and raised it to my nostrils. Spicy. "Perfect."

Her eyes closed and she mewled when I licked my finger. "Gray. I can't. Not here."

I nodded. "Alright. Take me to your room then."

She chewed on her upper lip. Her gave me a concerned look but nodded. We left the dining room and started across the lobby.

"Melissa? Hey, it's me. Jimmy Bower."

"Jimmy? I haven't seen you in years."

"Moved to the city three years ago. I work security here now."

I moved toward the elevator. Melissa followed slowly.

"We'll have to catch up, Jimmy. When do you get off shift?"

"Working a double. I get to watch the hallway monitors for a double shift."

Melissa looked at me and frowned. "I have to go, Jimmy. Coffee in the morning?"

Jimmy looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "Okay, Melissa. Have a nice night. I better get to work. I'll call you about nine?"

She nodded. I followed her into the elevator. When the doors closed, I pressed her up against the wall and kissed her.

"Stop it. Jimmy will see."

I chuckled at the words. "So what? It's not his business."

"He was best friends with my brother. It will still get back to my brother."

I frowned. "You're an adult. What's the problem?"

"The problem is he will see us going into the same room."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Come on, girl. I'm sure they must have to sign a confidentiality agreement."

"Gray." Her hand slid from my chest to my belt. She toyed with the buckle. "I can't. I'm sorry."

We got off at the third floor together, and I watched her walk down the hallway. The gentle sway of her ass was going to be a long disappointing memory tonight. She stopped at her door, and I laughed as she went inside and closed it. I ran my keycard through the slot in my door, and the lock clicked. Once inside I unlatched and opened the door that led to the room next to me. The desk clerk would be getting another tip as well. I tapped on the door that was still locked on her side.

"It's Gray, Melissa. Open the door."

"Gray. I don't think—"

I used my best growl. "Now, Melissa." I stepped back as the second door opened.

She stepped through. Her eyes looked at the floor. I caught her wrists and pulled her to me. She shuddered as my lips sought her throat. I unfastened the sash that tied the dress closed, pushed it off her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor.

She blushed when I pushed her to arms length, and my eyes roamed over her smooth flesh.

"Take off the bra, Melissa."

She let out a nervous laugh. "What? Are you just going to stand there while you make me get undressed?"

"Of course not." I plopped into the armchair. "Now take off the bra."

Her throat turned crimson. She shivered though the room was warm. Her hands moved slowly behind her back. She shrugged out of the bra and let it drop to the floor. Her nipples were wide with tips that had already hardened. Her breasts were large though her height likely made them seem larger than they actually were. Perfect breasts.

I indicated I wanted her to remove her panties by looking at them and giving a slow nod. Her eyes closed and her breasts heaved in response as she let out an unsure moan. She pushed her thumbs into the side elastic of the little pink panties and slid them down. I could smell her. I stood and motioned for her to spin. She turned her back to me, and I stepped closer. Her breath came in gasps. I ran my fingertips from high on her ribs, and down her hip. I squeezed her ass cheek, and a nearly silent moan escaped her lips.

"So you've got no excuses now, Melissa. You know you've surrendered. You know I'm going to take what I want—even the high centers. There is no resisting me now." I stepped in front of her and took her into my arms. I pressed the palm of my hand against her pussy and bent and sucked a nipple into my mouth. She was slightly salty to taste. She pulled my head against her.

"Gray. Fuck. Your tongue. I love your tongue."

I fell to my knees and breathed in the scent of her—a heady scent that would not be denied. I slipped my tongue between her folds and licked and sucked. She swayed above me as though she was about to swoon. I wrapped my arms around her thighs to steady her and pushed my tongue into her pussy. I knew she'd bent above me when her arms wrapped around my head.

"Kneeling inspection," I said.

"What?"

"Get on your knees and spread them apart, drop your thighs to your calves, and put your hands behind your head. Push your elbows out to the side. Do it." She did as I asked. She watched me closely. "Don't look at me. Look at the floor. You need to learn your place as a captive of a superior power."

Her eyes looked down, but her eyebrows furrowed and her head turned slowly to one side. "Gray, I—"

"No need to worry, Melissa. I'll only take what you are willing to offer."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Oh, fuck, I'm wet."

"That's good." I walked around her slowly. Her large breasts thrust out because of the position of her arms. Her tight tummy was accented by the swell of her hips. I went to my knees beside her, bent, and gave her a sucking kiss on the throat. "You're an amazing woman, Melissa. I'm glad you decided to surrender."

She nodded but the concerned look stayed.

I pushed two fingers into her. She gushed around them. "You're right. You are wet." She stayed in inspection position while I finger fucked her. I nipped her nipple and received a quick cry of pleasure and pain. Her body was shaking as she approached her first orgasm . . . which I denied her. I stood. The material of my pants was stretched over my throbbing cock.

"Take it out, Melissa. Take it out and suck it for me." She reached for my belt, but I caught her wrist. Her hands were shaking. "No. Unzip me and pull it out. I want to be dressed while you do this for me. Pull my balls out too."