The Contractor Ch. 13

When we broke, she turned her back to me.

"Unzip me, please," she said, looking over her shoulder at me with a flushed expression.

She wore nothing beneath the dress other than panties and thigh-high stockings. The black stockings matched the undergarment. She stood briefly to shake the dress off her shoulders and then dropped back onto the sofa and started undoing my shirt buttons.

I didn't feel any need to comment. She was doing fine all on her own and I was helping where I could. It didn't take long before I was down to my boxers and she was pulling me toward the bedroom. The king-size bed gave us plenty of room for whatever came next.

I found I was comparing Pattie to Sally and while they were very different in physical attributes, they were both very desirable women. There was nothing exaggerated about Pattie. She was of medium height, medium build, with medium breasts and a nice, girl-next-door kind of face. The one part of her that was definitely not medium was her ass. It was a little more prominent than you would expect and sat up high up and proud. Watching her walk away was an erotic adventure all on its own. Watching her walk away naked defied description.

Pattie was very expressive about her orgasms. Vocally expressive with grunts and groans and cries, depending on the intensity and duration. I found it very rewarding as she announced her pleasure. It gave me a sense of satisfaction that I was doing my best to please her.

"How did you end up at Orca?" I asked during one of our rest periods.

"By accident. I was working at a houseboat rental place in B.C. when I met a guy who he told me was on his way to work there. He was a former insurance investigator. I'd been studying forensic accounting on-line and wondered if there was on opportunity. The guy talked to them about me and I was offered an interview. I guess they thought I might fit, so they hired me."

"How long ago was that?"

"Three-and-a-half years."

"Where are you from originally?"

"Toronto. I left to get away from my father. He was a drunk and abusive. I took it for too long."

"What about your mother?"

"Dead and buried. He drove her to suicide."

"Sorry," I said.

"Thanks. I guess that's why I've always been so nervous about getting involved."

"I can understand that."

"When you want to talk to me about the lady you bought the ring for ... I'll listen."

"Probably not going to happen any time soon."

We spent the next five days on or near the water. She taught me to sailboard, we went scuba diving together, gambled in the evenings and spent every night in my suite. She gave up her room and moved in. There was nothing permanent about it and we had no illusions about where this would go in the future, but it was fun and helped both of us relax and enjoy our time together.

I saw her off at the airport when she headed home. It might have been the best six days I had spent in a long time.

Before she left, she got in my face and posed a couple of serious questions.

"You should look in the mirror, Rick. Ask yourself if it was a simple choice between your lady and your business, which would you choose? Ask yourself where you want to be in ten years? You'll be fifty then. Be honest with the answers."

She wasn't expecting any answers, and it was just as well. At that moment, I didn't have any.

I hung around the casinos in the evening, picking up a couple of one-night-stands, playing a bit of black jack and keeping Heineken's market share up where it belonged.

I was getting restless again and knew it was time to move on. The question was ... where?

I walked up to the concierge at my hotel.

"I wonder if you could find me an efficient way to get from here to San Diego?" I asked.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Vermeulen. When would you like to go?"

"As soon as you can arrange it."

END