Sins of a Siren by Curtis L. Alcutt

Author:Curtis L. Alcutt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Strebor Books

Twenty-Six

“Shit!” Trenda said as she examined the run in her one and only pair of stockings. “And it’s ten minutes to ten; I don’t have enough time to go buy a new pair before Walter gets here.” She opened the long split up the side of her designer, ankle-length, body-hugging, backless, halter-topped, black evening gown she’d found at the Goodwill store down the street from the hotel a few days ago, and examined her smooth bare leg. A confident smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Fuck the stockings; I’m sure Walter will appreciate not having to fight with taking them off.”

She was extra horny. Stressful situations usually brought the freak out in her. Sex served as a form of escapism for her. She watched her braless nipples grow as she admired herself in the bathroom mirror. The thought of tasting Walter’s log again made her slit sweat. “Girl, you a straight freak.” As she applied a coat of brick-colored lipstick, she heard a knock at the door. She checked her watch, ten o’clock on the nose. He is the most punctual man I have ever met. She patted down her growing afro and walked barefoot to the door. “Who is it?”

“Your chauffeur.”

She opened the door and enjoyed the way his eyes bulged as they traveled over her. “You look fantastic!”

“Thank you.” She stepped to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He accepted her tongue for a short but intense kiss. She backed off and wiped her lipstick off his lips. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

He adjusted his bright red tie, composed himself and followed her inside. His eyes locked on her rolling buttocks. “That’s the best birthday greeting I have gotten all day.”

She went into the bathroom and reapplied her lipstick. “It had better be.” She picked up her tube of lipstick, turned off the light, walked back into the sitting area, sat next to Walter on the sofa and crossed her legs. “So, where are we eating?”

He followed her bare thigh all the way to her brick-red painted toenails. “Since it’s kind of late, I figured we could go to Kimiko’s in Alameda and have some sushi.”

She picked a piece of lint off the lapel of his black Italian suit jacket. “That sounds real good, but I don’t like raw fish.”

He chuckled, took her hand and kissed it. “They also have tempura.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Tempura? What’s that?”

“It’s batter-dipped shrimp, prawns, vegetables or fish that’s fried.”

“That’s more like it!” She pulled her black pumps from under the coffee table and slipped them on her feet. “Let’s get goin’.”

She enjoyed the view of the city and star-filled sky while riding with the top down in Walter’s BMW. He glanced at her. “Is that too much air on you?”

She let her arm dangle out the window. “Not at all.” She wiped an imaginary lock of hair out of her face. “I love to feel my hair blowin’ in the wind.”

He laughed. “I see. I wouldn’t want it to get caught in any low-hanging branches.

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