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1. Sparking the Flame
How completely like her girlfriends to bail out at the last moment. Each one had come up with a different excuse, from Candice’s straightforward “Sorry, work called”, to Kumi’s sidestepping “Was that this weekend?” From Jezebel’s rambling, “My, uh, shower head broke, and now I have to... wait here all weekend for the plumber to show up, so, you know, he doesn’t look through my things”, to Saffron’s refreshingly honest, “I deliberately left my phone at a one-night stand to make it a two-night stand. Maybe three. I’ll get back to you.”
Never mind that they planned this weekend six months ago. Never mind that they came up with a team name and had matching outfits made. It frustrated Trixie to no end that her girlfriends could be such wimps. They could care less about their non-refundable hotel deposits and race fees. It meant nothing to them when faced with the prospect of enduring a little pain. Well, that really depended on what kind of pain you were talking about. They never complained about being driven all night by a random hook-up until they were two-inches shorter. Screw them. She would run this race alone if they were going to be such cowards. The whole thing was her idea anyway.
Trixie walked into a moderately busy hotel foyer with two suitcases, one filled with sportswear, the other with come-hither apparel, just in case. She was well equipped for the weekend, in excellent shape, and her flaming red hair had been recently henna-glossed to a shine. Trixie wore it long and straight, so she could easily braid pigtails for the race. For now, her hair swayed like a cat’s tail as she walked.
Two aging gentlemen watched her procession across the lobby with openly lascivious smiles. A young porter standing next to the service desk completely forgot about the guest he was attending, distracted by her cleavage. The guest, an elderly woman, scrutinized Trixie’s short skirt with disdain through her thick spectacles. A middle-aged man standing by the elevator with a woman, likely his wife, drank in Trixie’s long legs. The poor woman had to point out that their lift arrived, twice. As entrances went, it wasn’t a bad one, but she wasn’t interested in any of these admirers.
Surely there would be other racers, preferably unattached, arriving early for the event. Trixie kept her eyes peeled for a robust male specimen to ensnare. She’d grown frustrated in the city, with an endless supply of men who were easily offended, easily startled, or both. Maybe a secluded mountain village would yield better results. She certainly wouldn’t object to something chiseled, sturdy, and tall, but Trixie knew she couldn’t afford to be picky. Not while playing the numbers game at any rate. Right now, anything to forget about the treachery of her girlfriends would be a welcome diversion.
The hotel was a lot fancier than she expected, featuring old varnished wood married to an understated modern aesthetic with lots of light. Nothing she could afford on her own, but easily manageable when split five ways. She could smell the chlorinated water of a pool and the heady scent of lotion wafting through the air. There was likely a spa on the premises, but it would be well beyond her budget in a place like this. Trixie waited for the female concierge to acknowledge her existence, which, despite the fact that nobody stood between her and the service desk, took slightly longer than it should have.
“Checking in Misses…?”
“Ms. Harridan.”
She typed her name into a computer and eyed the screen.
“The Fairview Suite for you and…T.A.R.T.?”
“Right, I forgot about that. That would be our group name. It stands for ‘Tight Assed Racing Team’.”
The attractive middle-aged woman gave her flank a cursory glance before focusing back on the screen. Her ass still wasn't where she wanted it to be, especially now, being the sole representation of T.A.R.T., but at least she had spent time at the gym, which was more than any of her girlfriends could say. She would get back at them for this desertion somehow, the details of which would come later.
“It’s just me now I’m afraid,” she added.
“Then you must be here for the obstacle race tomorrow. Would you like a wake up call in the morning?” the woman offered dryly.
“It’s still early. Let’s see how I do on my own first,” she joked.
“Very good Ms. Harridan.” The concierge curtly tapped a bell on the counter in front of her which signaled the end of their conversation. A fresh-faced teenage bell hop arrived to carry her luggage. “Ms. Harridan in the Fairview Suite,” the woman said without looking up.
The young man picked up both suitcases, but then let her take the lead, giving directions as they went. Trixie couldn’t help but wonder if she should be following him. Regardless, when she offered to tip him for his services, he declined.
“I couldn’t possibly accept Ms. Harridan. You’ve already tipped me more than you know. Have a pleasant stay,” he said, scurrying away with a sly grin.
Cheeky mongrel. Trixie would say something to the management if she wasn’t secretly flattered. Again, wrong target. She was interested in more mature offerings.
Trixie laid her luggage on one of two king-sized sleigh beds and looked around. The Fairview Suite was furnished with two large bathrooms as well. She and her girlfriends were going to double up for two nights and share the amenities between them. Kumi would crash wherever she could fit, which would be anywhere. Miss size zero. Now she had a tight ass. Alas, not all genetics are created equal.
Trixie eyed the desk with a phone and thought about calling them all. It was only a two-hour drive from the city. They could still make it if she applied enough guilt. She considered it, but then abandoned the idea like they abandoned her. Trixie couldn’t be bothered with the effort, and it was kind of nice having the whole place to herself. If her girlfriends didn’t have the guts to show up on their own, she would live like a queen in their absence.
She clicked open her come-hither suitcase first. If she was going to take ownership of this weekend, it wasn’t going to happen alone in a spacious hotel room. Surely there was a dining room downstairs, one that was hopefully adjacent to a bar.
Trixie shed her V-neck blouse and short skirt for a curvaceous green dress. Holding it up against her naked body the soft fabric adhered to her skin. Standing in front of a full length mirror, Trixie ran a hand up her inner thigh, filling her eyes filled with hunger. Her red hair looked vibrant against the green fabric. This was definitely the look she wanted. Ten minutes later, eyes painted darkly, she surveyed her handiwork in a bathroom.
As a natural ginger, there was no point in shying away from her heritage. Men were either drawn to her fiery mantle like moths, or they scurried away like frightened children. She wasn’t interested in the latter, so she accentuated her autumn hair whenever possible. The backless dress showed off her pale skin and well-toned muscles, putting all the hours she spent working out at a gym on display, not the least of which inc
