Flowers for Jill

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She didn’t question her reasons for going anymore. Didn’t put herself through the wringer wondering what it made her, what people would think if they found out. Damn them all to hell; she lived for herself, not for them, and it was time to live.

She had read somewhere that Van Gogh nibbled on yellow paint chips, and insanely reasoned it that yellow was a happy color, and he wanted happiness inside of him. Well, this was her yellow paint, and she reveled in chewing on it.

She was early, she knew it coming in, but it didn’t matter, and he wouldn’t know it. They arranged for her to arrive fifteen minutes before him the first time they did this. “Ladies first.” He smirked, his accent pronounced, light eyes twinkling with mischief. It was meant as a smartass jab at the fact that their arrangement made her the opposite of a lady, but if he knew how to dish it, she knew how to serve it with garnish; so she returned his teasing smirk with a proffered hand, “Deal.” And they shook on it.

It’s been that way for that past four months, and it suited them both.

She didn’t mind that she didn’t know his favorite song, didn’t know how he liked his eggs in the morning, or if he was a coffee or a tea man.

“Jill Winters.”

Didn’t mind that she didn’t know his name and he didn’t know hers…

He was Jack, and she his Jill. They met on a cold February night, so Winters seemed an appropriate alias.

“May I see your ID, Ms. Winters?” chirped the cheery blonde behind the hotel service desk. She was new, and hasn’t gotten the hang of the check-in sequence it seemed.

“There’s a code that I’m giving you, dear, look it up under my reservation.”

“Oh, sorry!” the name tag indicated that her name was Shayla, and she explained the obvious with an easy smile, “I’m new!”

“You’re fine.”

“Ooookay, I see the reservation under Jack and Jill Winters –aww, how cute! Did you guys just randomly meet and discovered you both had synchronized names, or did you-“

She cut her off with a tight smile, “The code is 307VK4, and I’ll be collecting a single keycard. Thank you.” She didn’t want to be curt, but she was tired of people pushing their noses into her business “just ’cause”.

Shayla’s perpetual smile didn’t falter, but she did curb her inquisitiveness, “Right, give me oooone second.” Her fingers flew in a rapid succession tapping on the keyboard in front of her, “I have you scheduled to check out at…hmm, I don’t have a check out date under your name,”

“Mr. Winters handles all that.” She explained laconically.

The girl’s eyes scanned the screen starting from the bottom, “Right, sooo your room number iiiiiiiis…oh! You’re in the Louis du Diamants suite!” surprise registered on the blonde’s face, and she cast a none-too-discreet perusing look at Jill taking in her Hermèz skirt suit, her Céline purse and matching vintage briefcase, then probed again, “Are you here on business?” but she only got a patient smile in return and a “I’ll need a velvet folder for my keycard, I’m afraid I’m not too fond of the leather ones.”

“Right!” her smile was the same that everyone who worked in customer service knew they had to wear in order to keep their reviews and sales up, and it didn’t reach her eyes that now had a touch of envy in them, “Louis du Diamants is one of our best suites; it’s decorated by this exclusive designer that does stuff with, like, diamonds, and he’s so, like, funky looking. It’s so cool.” The loquacious girl said Lewis. Pet peeve. “Heeere ya go, Mrs. Winters.” She stretched her vowels way too much, “Sorry about the confusion!”

She wanted to go up, when did hotel receptionists become so darn annoying? “What confusion?” her fingers dug into the plush velvet folder, and it was all she could do to keep from tapping her Vince Camuto heel in frustration.

“The whole Miss/Missus thing, I didn’t know at first, I’m ne-“

“No worries. Thanks, Shayla.”

She wanted to have her thoughts for herself before seeing him, so she didn’t appreciate the fact that she had to face the hotel’s old fashioned elevator operator, but was pleasantly surprised when the guy greeted her, asked for her floor, then kept to himself in the corner.

Normally, she was a people’s person, but she needed those few hours for herself, those stolen, clandestine meetings kept her sane.

The modern deco room was beautiful; glass furniture and art paired with silver tones dominated the setting and was peppered with an eclectic collection of outlandishly colored pieces here and there. It had that uptown diamond splurge feel to it, that the flashy decorator behind it seemed so keen on, and it had her stand up straighter with the first step she took inside.

It was the same everytime, and as a part of their arrangement, he was the one who picked and paid for it. And, as always, Jack had them place a large vase of fresh fuchsia bahis firmaları carnations in the ostentations reception room.

As a junior executive in a fashion company, she made an ungodly amount of money considering her young age, and the fact that she had to climb up the hierarchy unassisted by handouts, completely relying on her professional talents. Getting a suite like this wouldn’t have put a dent in her budget, but she would rather spend the money on a mini vacation in Aspen or Glacier Park, or buy another high-end business suit to add to her collection, complete with a blouse and a scarf –perhaps a cute little Fendi. She loved accessorizing with a good scarf of a nice timepiece, not just because of her line of work, but because she never deprived herself of the fine luxuries that made her feel pretty. A black label suit with the right pair of shoes magically combined Boss Lady with Girly Fashionista without over doing either one.

They never exchanged personal information or gifts or anything close to that. He did, however, bring her a bright pink cabbage flower once, explaining that he saw it on his way over, and it reminded him of her, “It smelled good. You smell good. I thought I’d unite the two.”

On a whim, she brought him a vintage, mini bottle of cognac telling him that it reminded her of him; it went down smoothly, but still burned like a son of a bitch, which drew a raucous laugh out of him.

She didn’t read much into the carnation. Just like everything else, he was a man of discriminating taste, from picking sleek Movado watches over Rolex or Tag Heuer -even though he could afford the latter, more expensive choices- to choosing an exclusive, limited-chain hotel instead of The Ritz Carlton. He made the more traditional choice of roses seem so blasé in comparison to the anecdotic pick of carnations.

Her feet took her to the vase, sitting on the elaborate glass table, and her right hand darted out to touch one of the flowers unconsciously, before she pulled it back schooling herself to stay detached when it came to the small details that made Jack…well, Jack.

After refreshing quickly in the powder room, and fussing over a chip in her light purple nail polish, she decided to stop feeling so anxious to see him, and walked over to the large window that provided a panoramic downtown view. Her day was difficult, and frustrating. It seemed like the deeper she dug, the more holes she found around the company. Overpaid people who knew how to cover their tracks, and sneaky humbugs who knew how to pretend to work and be busy, when their output was frighteningly measly. After sitting down and making a list of the people that needed to hit the road –one that was longer than expected- she put together a second list, this time she penciled in the very few people that can replace them if she decided to promote from inside, then sat and wondered what had gone wrong, what had she done wrong that caused her to overlook the rising number of negligence for the past year? The only thing that made her feel better was the promise of meeting Jack. He brought such a lucid sense of clarity that nothing and no one else provided for her before.

The door behind her clicked closed startling her from her musings, and she swiveled around to find the man in question standing at the door, one hand in his pocket, the other on the door knob, and that teasing little smile on his face.

“Hello Jill.” He said, blue eyes twinkling.

“Jack.” Her heartbeat accelerated, and she blinked rapidly and touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip quickly, before smoothing her hands on her dove grey skirt.

“You look good.” He complimented, “I like the purple blouse on you.” Good meant Stunning. He meant it, but never said it, yet she knew it, and he knew she did.

“Thank you. Nice tie.” She regained her bravado, drawing confidence from his casual, easy attitude.

He fingered the light blue material, “Huh, thanks, it’s uuh…blue!” his smile was too damn sexy.

“So?” she leaned left, pressing the heel of her hand against another glass table.

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he chuckled, “I just thought it was too bright a shade for anyone but me to like.” He reopened the door to hang a Do Not Disturb sign outside, then clicked it shut again before facing her with a strange light in his eyes.

She straightened and met his gaze head on, before her fingers met at her waist, and started to slip her blazer’s buttons out of their slits one by one. Her initiative jerked at the side of his lip in a ghost smirk, and he mirrored her actions, unbuttoning his shirt when she did hers, and toeing his shoes and socks off before reaching for the fly of his trousers. She didn’t need him to tell her to keep her stilettos on, those things were implicitly agreed upon, and her heels sank in the plush carpet, one after the other as she stepped out of her kaçak iddaa skirt.

Her lavender and heather grey bra came off the same time he pushed his boxer briefs down his muscled legs. He had a beautiful, lean-muscled body, with a scattering of blond hair that fanned his chest, then tapered down to a happy trail that bisected his flat stomach, and ended in a darker triangle from which his cock stood, flagrantly aroused.

Her heart hammered that sprint-y ratta-tat-tat beat again, and she had to coerce herself to avert her gaze from him –not out of bashfulness, but more in self-preservation for she didn’t want her mind to wander off and bring up suggestions of further involvement with this man.

If the thought of seeing him had made her damp between the legs on her way to the hotel, and while she waited for him, the sight of him melted her core and made her passion seep like molten lava that stretched into an obscene clear line between her pussy lips and the crotch of her panties when she pulled them down.

Her eyes met his again, and swallowed discreetly when she saw a lascivious grin split his lips apart, “I’ll take that.” He extended an open hand to her, and she licked her lips again, dropping the balled up violet lace cheekie in his palm.

He was still staring at her, as if he saw something she didn’t see in the mirror, something that others didn’t notice, and was mystified and galvanized by it. An intriguing lure that made his eyes go a few shades deeper, and his pupils expand their radius. How could a virtual stranger make her feel so…whole? So precious, and rare? Don’t question it, her head warned, just enjoy it…enjoy him.

And she did, placing her hands on his lightly furred chest, she let her fingers wander on his hot skin, making his left pectoral muscle jump slightly. Rising on tiptoe, she offered her mouth to him, and when he merely brushed his lips against hers and drew back holding them a centimeter away, she pinched his flat nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and combed the fingers of her left hand through his hair, cupping the back of his head and bringing it down for a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.

He loved to tease, but he was the most avaricious participant when he finally ceased his play, and it took her breath away. A moan escaped her when he molded his open mouth to hers sucking her lower lip without a trace of gentleness, then twirled his tongue around hers, before twisting his head further to the side for a better angle. He bracketed her cheeks with his large hands, and ate at her mouth like he knew how to draw a secret sweet nectar from the depths of her soul to slake his thirst.

His body was hot and hard against her softness, and she pushed her breasts against his chest wanting to cry out when his crisp chest hair grazed the plump mounds of her breasts.

“Goodness!” She breathed pulling back to look at his eyes, then bit her lip suggestively and rubbed her breasts against his, dividing her gaze between their chests and his eyes.

He gave her mouth a quick, shameless lick before drawing back, “Yes.” He murmured running his hands along her spine, pulling them to her sides to caress her flanks, then finally cupping her generous derriere, “Yes.” He pulled her up aligning her crotch with his to cradle his throbbing erection against her mound.

Why was he doing that? It only complicated things. She slithered down his body deliberately, to get on her knees in front of him the way they agreed upon. They had a deal, an arrangement; she sucked him off to a bone melting orgasm, and he fingered and ate her until her toes curled and a meteor shower speckled the inside of her eyelids. That was it. It wasn’t a cheap blow in a restaurant’s bathroom, or a quick 69 in the back of a beat down Caddie to get their rocks off before he had to go to some overnight factory job, and she had to rush to the Waffle House to clock in and serve burnt coffee and hash browns; it was more than that…it was what a human soul would feel like if it were a piece of gold that got flaked, heated to a red-hot lava, then gathered around a piece of metal to gild it. They were both more complete after their encounters, more precious like two recherché pieces of gilt jewelry.

It couldn’t go further, they didn’t need to be attached to each other by the bond a more intimate relationship would bring. Sure, they were intimate now, but having him inside her, being one with him would move mountains, and breaks dams over rivers that threatened to flood. She fought the fantasies that wanted to force themselves into her head of what it’d be like if he buried his thick length inside her, and those lewd dreams that woke her up in a pool of her own sweat were not dwelt upon. He had to stay Jack, and nothing more.

Hands on his thighs, she pressed her fingers into his muscles and looked up at him with a smile. He groaned, “Open your mouth.”

She kaçak bahis licked his lips and pouted fluttering her eyelashes at him playfully until he nudged her chin with a knuckle, then tapped at her mouth, “Open up.” His voice had grown hoarse with unspent lust. She loved that she could do that to man like him, that she had power over him, that she was on top even when she was on her knees with her mouth open for him.

He ran the tip of his index finger on her tongue rubbing the pad of his finger in small circles as if to assess if her mouth was worthy of his cock, of his cum. His touch made her salivate, and he slid the finger further into her mouth as deep as it went without gagging her. Slowly, he fucked the long digit in and out of her mouth, pushing down at her jaw to keep it open, and she swallowed reflexively against the saliva gathering under her tongue and in the back of her mouth.

Her hands left his thighs to sit on hers docilely. He looked at her for a moment, mesmerized by her complete surrender to him; a powerful woman who offered herself to him completely with no reservations. She saw it all in his eyes, the warring emotions as he cupped her chin and ran inserted his thumb into her mouth as his forefinger, wet with her spit, nudged her chin up urging her to close her mouth and suck at his thumb.

She felt the edge of his closely cut fingernail scrape delicately against the roof of her mouth, felt every line of his fingerprint on her tongue like he was stamping her on the inside, leaving his imprint on her. She sucked harder never looking away from his eyes, and rubbed her tongue back and forth along his thumb wanting him, needing to show him…what? That she was hungry for the taste of him? That she craved pleasing him so much that it neared the point of obsession?

He pulled his finger back, but she clamped her teeth on it gently while tightening her lips around it, and he rasped, “Open up.” then ran the tip of his thumb on her upper teeth when she did. With his other hand, he grasped his cock wrapping his fingers around the thick shaft and giving it a few pumps that made her wish it was her hand on him coaxing his pearly precome from the small slit in the bulbous head.

“Do you want it?” he asked sliding the tip on her cheek to smear the clear fluid on her, marking her with it, “Do you want this cock, baby?”

Oh God, yes! “Yes, I do.” She turned her head to the right trying to get him in her mouth, but he held himself away.

“What do you want?”

“Your cock,” she looked at his dick, then met his eyes with meaningful intent in her eyes, “I want your big cock in my mouth.”

He touched her cheek with the sticky slick tip again, “What do you want to do with it?”

“I want to kiss it, and lick it, and suck it until you come in my mouth.” She licked her lips, “I want you to come in my mouth. I crave your taste. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You like my cum, baby?”

“I love it.”

“I want you to kiss my cock like a good girl.” He touched his penis to her lips, and she darted her tongue to lick his pre-ejaculate, but he pulled back, “Just a kiss, I’ll tell you when you can taste it.”

She touched her lips to the engorged tip in a chaste kiss, then another, before moaning lightly and giving him an open-mouthed, sucking kiss that made him hiss. Fingertips digging into the top of her thighs, she placed wet kisses around the head of his cock smearing his precome on her lips and all over his shaft when she kissed the thick hard shaft. She went all the way down, then ran her lips up again until she reached the knotted bundle of nerves under the glans to give it an indecently loud kiss opening her mouth and latching her lips to the gentle spot. His right leg slightly jerked, and she noticed his fingers tightening around the root of his cock, squeezing it harder as if that can help him hold off longer against her mouth.

Pressing her mouth against the underside of his cock, she swiped her lips lower, touching the tip of her nose to him and gazing up into his eyes until she reached his balls and showered them with kisses taking her time, and using her lips as best as she could without taking him into her mouth. She heard him swear under his breath, and glanced up to see his eyes squeezed shut.

“I want to taste it.” she pleaded, “Let me taste your cock, Jack.” His closed eyes twitched before he breathed, “Go ahead; lick my cock.”

She didn’t need encouragement, her mouth opened and she French kissed the tip twirling her tongue in maddening circles around his knob. She pulled back to survey her handy work and found a fresh flow of precome oozing from the tiny slit that beckoned her tongue to lick it off. He tasted delightfully salty, musky, and of something that was purely male, purely him.

His hand finally let go of his cock, and it bobbed up against his stomach before slapping her on the nose and forehead, and his lopsided grin reappeared when he watched her chase his dick with her mouth pushing up on her knees to trap his aroused appendage against his abs and tongue him like a hungry kitten.

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