Oh, Those Boots! Ch. 01

I had to agree with that. "At the risk of sounding really, really stupid," I said, leaning toward her a little, "your place or mine?"

She let out a soft burst of laughter and sat up again and raised her glass for a long sip.

She was quiet as she thought. "To answer your question, what are the arrangements?"

"Traveling," I answered. "You?"

"Same."

"OK. Where are you staying?"

"Across the street. And you?"

"Pretty much right next door."

"Hmm... not sure what the best choice would be."

"Well, what sort of room do you have? Mine's a king suite," I offered.

"That settles it, then. If we take yours, we don't have to cross the street."

"Done! Let's drink up and get out of here."

We raised our glasses to each other, and spent the next few minutes in relative silence.

"So basically," I began, "this can be as—"

"As anonymous and no-holds-barred and as sexy and horny as we want it to be," she finished the sentence for me.

I looked at her, my mind racing with the possibilities. "Like a couple of animals," I said.

"Like a couple of animals in rut," she added.

Seldom had a more accurate statement been made. I couldn't wait to be alone with this woman in private. Once again though, I spoke before thinking. "So Jackie, how long are you generally in rut?"

Her eyes flared and her mouth tightened. Uh-oh, I thought, thinking of her knuckles or gloves again, but she smiled wickedly. "Now there's a question a woman doesn't hear all the time," she said after a while. Her eyes narrowed a little as she watched me. "Let's see... I'd have to answer that one as 'pretty much all the time.'" She paused for a second, as though considering her words. "In other words," she went on, "I'm nearly always ready for that good, stiff fucking, as you so plainly put it a little bit ago." She stopped talking, carefully picked up and sipped at her glass, and said, "Does that answer your question?"

"In a word, yes," I answered, draining my own. "Hurry up with that, will you?"

"I'm getting there; keep your shorts on, will you?" She took a deep draft and looked at me, her eyes narrowing again. She began pulling on her gloves.

"Well, I didn't think they were going to come off any time in the next 20 to 30 minutes," I answered. "There was something about fully clothed, wasn't there?"

"There was indeed, yes." She signaled the barmaid and drained her glass. We traded a couple more innuendos as we settled our tabs.

I offered to help her on with her overcoat. "Thank you, sir. Now there's a gentleman," she said elegantly, just above a whisper, so that the closer patrons in the bar could hear. She held out an arm for me, and I slipped it on and then pulled the coat over her shoulders.

"Now tell me: what is it you're writing?"

That caught me off guard, and I wasn't sure I wanted to answer. Instead, I dodged the question: "How about you tell me how you chose me out of all the other guys here?"

She laughed slightly. "That's not fair," she said, "but all right. Because you didn't hit on me, for one thing."

I waited, expecting more.

"Oh, all right. Fantastically hot eyes. Do you stare at everyone like that? They're hypnotic!"

That really caught me off guard. "Excuse me?" I asked, stopping and turning to look at her.

She cleared her throat. "Yeah: like now! What's with the look?"

I had to laugh. "What look? I just look folks in the eye when I'm talking with them, that's all."

"OK," she answered, not breaking her gaze, "then what was with the staring at me back there a little while ago?"

I had to think now. Oh... yeah, I thought I understood her, now. "That, m'dear, is the thousand-mile, unfocused eyes of a writer picturing a distant scene." I wasn't too far off the mark, either.

"And what was the scene, if I may ask?"

"We were," I answered, quite honestly. I leaned in toward her and touched my lips to her ear. "I was picturing you, with me, and we were having sex." I wanted to say more, and get a lot more graphic, but this seemed like enough. Besides that, it was the truth, because that really was all I had come up with. "Does that answer your question about what I was writing?"

"It does, yes," she said. "Thank you. Magnificently, in fact. Let's go see what we might do about some reality."

With that we were off. I couldn't help but feel the envious eyes of every other man in the place as we walked out, Jackie elegantly holding my arm.

"One or the other of us seems to be the 'catch of the evening,'" she said as she noticed the glances of the women, as well.

"Or both," I answered, putting an arm around her waist. "They all know what we're going to do."

"At least they think they do," she added suggestively.

On the way I made a detour and helped myself to a delightful squeeze of her bottom. "But that's not!" she said. Her voice was louder and carried a touch of indignation and insult. She turned to me and lightly slapped my face. "How dare you!" I was taken aback and I heard laughter in the bar. I was glad for the dim lighting, because I felt the hot heat of embarrassment rise instantly to my face. "Gotcha, didn't I?" she said in a voice only I could hear.

"Dammit! Yes, you did! Was that for real, or joking?"

"No comment."

We walked out the door. I thought I heard a low wolf whistle from one of our envious watchers as we left. "Meaning...?"

"Meaning they haven't any idea how hot and horny this is going to be," she answered. "And don't pinch so hard. I bruise easily."

I turned to look at her again, my eyebrows raised.

"Squeeze all you want. Feels good."

With that, I gave her rump a long caress and helped myself to a couple more delightfully firm handfuls as the door closed behind us and we walked out into the night.