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After two shots, she came closer to me and whispered, “Do you want to dance?”
I whispered back, “I have a better idea. Let’s get out of here. Go somewhere a bit quieter.”
She smiled at my suggestion, and before she responded, she hesitated as if thinking if this was a smart idea. I saw the puzzled look on her face and smiled.
“Don’t worry. I’m not a serial killer,” I said, and she chuckled.
“Says every serial killer ever,” she responded. She got up and started heading for the exit. I was lost looking at her waist move underneath her dress and was brought back to the club by her voice asking, “Are you coming or what?”
I got up and followed her outside. We stood by the entrance while I called a taxi to come and pick us up and told my driver to head back to the hotel on his own. I didn’t want to give her the impression that I was a wealthy snob because it could throw her off. She was on her phone texting someone. After a few minutes, a silver Sedan came to a halt in front of us, and we both got in.
“Who were you texting?” I asked, trying to start small talk.
“My sister. I came here with her and don’t want her to worry.”
“Oh, that was your sister? I thought she was your friend.”
“No, she is my sister,” she responded.
We arrived at the hotel and I led her up to my suite. In my suite, I went to the small fridge and took out a bottle of whiskey with two glasses. She walked over to the table where I was pouring us both shots of the drink.
Her long, slim fingers painted in black nail polish wrapped around one of the glasses and put it to her lips. I took a sip from my own glass while maintaining eye contact with her. I could now clearly see the features of her face. Her eyes were emerald green and they were inquisitive. Her skin was smooth and her brunette hair was packed in a high bun.
I reached for the band, holding her hair together and let it down. The pool of hair fell to her shoulders and she chuckled as she played with the glass with her tiny, glossed lips. I took the glass from her and placed it on the table, then I put mine down.
She bit her lips, and that did something to me. I lowered my face to meet hers and took her lips in mine. The kiss was slow and sensual at first. Her lips tasted like a mixture of the cherry flavor of her lip gloss and the whiskey she had just drank. It was an intoxicating taste that I could easily get used to.
She was a good kisser, the way she expertly slid her lips over mine and kept the pace slow, but I wanted more. I wanted it to be deeper, more intense. She stopped the kiss and took another sip of her whiskey, then she wrapped her hands around my neck, got on her tip toe, and hit me with a fierce kiss.
This woman knew what she was doing and I liked that in a woman. She continued to kiss me and suckle on my lips. I lifted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs around me. My hands automatically went to her soft, jiggly behind and squeezed it in my hand. She let out a soft giggle at my action against my lips.
We went to the bed and I sat down while she was straddled against me, still kissing me tightly and intensely. She started making movements with her waist, riding them against my already growing erection.
The kiss eased off and she started taking the buttons on my shirt off. One after the other as she maintained eye contact with me. After the buttons were completely off, she helped me remove the shirt and threw it on the floor. Her lips met with mine again in a teasing kiss.
I was running my hands over her back and she smiled at me. She adjusted herself to a position that let her raise her dress from her waist up and then over her head. She threw the red dress to the side and I was pleased to find that she had no bra on. Her small, perky breasts were eye level with me. I hungrily took them in my mouth one after the other. She moaned lightly while continuing the riding movement with her hips.
The erection that was in my trousers was begging for release and I couldn’t wait to be inside this woman. She got off me and started helping me open the buckle of my trousers. When they were done, I lowered the trouser to expose my boxers with a throbbing erection underneath.
She stood up and hurriedly took off the dark red underwear she had on. By the time she was done, I had also gotten rid of my boxers and she climbed back on top of me, gently sliding inside her. A little gasp escaped her lips when she felt the full extent of my erection inside her and she started her riding motion all over again.
She continued to go in and out of me and it felt really good. I noticed that her pace had started to slow and I raised her up, kept her on the bed on her hand and knees position and stood behind her and started thrusting in and out of her.
She started moaning loudly and as the pleasure waves swept through my body, I felt the exhaustion I pushed aside earlier creeping into my body. My thrusts became harder and faster, her moans became louder.
In perfect harmony, we both reached orgasm at the same time and I let out a loud groan. I slowly slid myself out of her and could not even bear to stand anymore. She fell onto the bed face first and I fell on the bed beside her. She started saying something but I wasn’t sure what it was because I had drifted off to sleep.
Chapter3
Valentina
Our move to Chicago was stressful. A few weeks after we settled in the tiny apartment provided by Vivian’s company, I was still feeling weak and exhausted from the move, coupled with the fact that my entire body ached. Vivian had resumed work and told me that her company had yet to set up her health insurance, so I should take a few painkillers and rest.
I took an ibuprofen by 2:30 p.m. on a Thursday, exactly three weeks after our move and laid down to rest. My eyes opened a few minutes past 5 p.m. and I found that Vivian wasn’t home yet. I decided to take a walk and probably pick up supplies for the kitchen and the bathroom.
When the word bathroom crossed my mind, I immediately thought of my period. It was a week late. I was so caught up in the excitement of moving to Chicago that I totally forgot about that. Immediately, I jumped up from my bed, put on some presentable clothes and shoes, grabbed my wallet and left the house.
I was done buying the things we needed for the kitchen and the bathroom and then I grabbed a couple pregnancy kits off the counter. My mind refused to entertain thoughts about being pregnant. I kept repeating over and over under my breath, “You’re not pregnant, you’re just stressed out.” I also kept asking myself why I was buying pregnancy kits if I was sure I wasn’t pregnant. Nothing I was doing made sense.
