index


Message-ID: <50874asstr$1112566206@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
DomainKey-Signature: a=rsa-sha1; q=dns; c=nofws;
        s=beta; d=gmail.com;
        h=received:message-id:date:from:reply-to:to:subject:mime-version:content-type:content-transfer-encoding;
        b=cI15tGW0a9Uv+2RNQKgcecPocUIdy9/BaM/GmwcfZryZ7YVJzgJ6KAPRaDqfvOrlSAes+p6OAd4LfDYiCgsxQ4gjYqr5cP19jj9AOxGsQAMVNaabHqjsUtrUMM6W00kpUeRfcbb05BOilCzIJNEJXQ8VtBC+J75AGd9J9EvKLWQ=
From: Writerz Blocked <writerzblocked@gmail.com>
Reply-To: Writerz Blocked <writerzblocked@gmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} New WZB "One of Those Nights" (MF FF paranormal)
Lines: 2001
Date: Sun,  3 Apr 2005 18:10:06 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

"One of Those Nights" (MF, FF, paranormal)

Copyright 2005 by Writerzblocked.  Copy it to your hearts' content,
just don't mangle it or sell it or take my name off it or nasty things
will happen.

(Author's Note:  Amanda Tuck first appeared in "I Fought the Law,
And..." 5.1 and Bubbles appears in just about every story I write, it
seems.  This story was originally written as part of an expo in the
MCForum, a message board linked to Simon Bar Sinister's Erotic Mind
Control Story Archives.  I'm posting it here because, well, I've not
posted anything here in a few months and I figure y'all deserve a bit
more than viruses when you come across this nym.  This one takes a
while to get going, but I hope you find it worth the trip. :-)
_______________________

"Ohmygawd, it IS her!" Tawana jumped upa half foot behind the hotel
counter as she watched Mandy Tuck and her entourage flow through the
spinning glass doors. "I guess even hot movie stars need vacations."

"Big deal," sniffed Jane Thomas, night manager, as she stood behind
the black girl. "If you ask me, no woman that old should ever go by
the name 'Mandy.'"

Tucker Simmons, the head bellman, laughed. "Hey, when you're THAT hot,
you can call yourself anything you damn well want to." The trio stared
at the group of celebrity hangers on as they made their way towards
the elevator. Tucker started down out the office door. "I'm gonna go
down and see if she has any room service amenities that need
delivering."

"Dog," Jane muttered under her breath as he left. She glanced down at
the memo on the desk in front of her. "If she thinks that we're going
to clear a whole floor for her, she's nuts."

"I hear that's standard wherever she goes now," Tawana said, still
staring glassy-eyed across the hall as the last of the group made its
way into the elevators.

"Good Lord, who does she think she is, Julia Roberts?" Jane shot back,
crumpling up the memo in one hand. "That group of fashion models we've
got on twelve needs the rooms. Then there's all the kids on Spring
Break. This place is going to be a nightmare tonight."

Tawana took a deep breath and sighed to herself. "Julia Roberts just
WISHES she was Mandy Tuck," she giggled. "Who doesn't?"

"Stupid actresses," Jane shook her head. "Be sure to finish posting
the valet charges," she rolled her eyes at her desk clerk and walked
back into her office. The portly manager tossed the crumpled memo
towards the trash can and cursed as it hit the rim and bounced out.
"Stupid celebrities," she muttered again.

________


"Darn it, my garter broke," Debbie sighed as she attempted to fix the
snap into the top of the stocking.

"That's why they gave us extras, silly," Heather giggled as she tossed
one over to her roommate. "What hotel room's the show in tomorrow?"

"Oh, some room on the balcony level, I think," Debbie answered,
admiring her legs in the mirror. "These hose stay up pretty good
without belts, actually." She rode one hand down her thigh to her
knee. "Silly belts are just one big nuisance."

"Yeah, but it's all for the guys, anyway," Heather said, staring at
her own stocking feet and looking at the backs of her legs to make
sure the seams were straight. "I mean, who really wears seams nowadays
anyway?"

"It does seem rather pointless," Debbie said, sliding her broken belt
around to the front to unclasp it. "And they're pretty uncomfortable,
besides."

"Well, I used to wear 'em all the time for Kurt." Heather mused as she
looked in her own mirror and tugged at the tops of her sheer black
hose. "He gets really turned on when I sleep next to him in garter
belt and hose."

Debbie rolled her eyes as she fitted the new belt about her waist and
twirled it around, watching the garters swing freely in the air. "What
a perv," she giggled. "No way could I sleep like that."

"Oh, it's not so bad, once you get used to it." Heather sat down on
her bed and crossed her legs, feeling the nylon slide slowly across
her knee.

"Well, okay, I guess maybe I could if I woke up next to Kurt every
morning!" Debbie laughed and fastened the tops of the stockings into
the garters one by one.

Heather slid across the bed and grasped at the tops of the sheets.
"Actually, I kinda miss the feeling of clean, cool sheets against my
legs." She drew back the bed cover. "Have you ever laid in bad with
your hose on?"

Debbie let out a very unladylike guffaw. "Yeah, when I was, like,
fifteen!" She bent over and back to see if the garter clasps were
fixed too tightly. "Really, Heather, you sound just like my kid
sister."

The brunette had now gotten the blankets all the way down and was
sliding her black legs back and forth across the sheets, feeling the
cool of the linen through the hose. "Mmmmmm..." she purred.

Debbie stared at her with her mouth open. "Really, you're starting to
freak me out here."

"Oh, like I'M the one who does the fetish shoots with whips and
chains?" Heather laughed and brought the sheets up over her legs.
"Talk about uncomfortable."

"Yeah, but I don't wear 'em in the fucking bed," the redhead blurted
and picked up a pillow off her bed to throw. She could see the covers
on Heather's bed moving more rapidly now. "You're not...?"

Heather sighed. "No, silly, I'm not THAT desperate...yet." The covers
stopped moving and she stared at the ceiling. "But I really hate these
location shoots."

Debbie sat on her bed and put the pillow across her knee. "Yeah, I
know what you mean," she sighed. "It's been a whole two weeks for me."

"Well, nothing's stopping YOU from just going down to the bar,
girlfriend. All those yummy college guys on Break..."

"Yeah..." she adjusted the pillow on her knee, moving it slowly back
and forth unconsciously across the fabric encasing her legs. "...but I
just don't really...feel right...about that."

"Yeah, I guess I know how you feel." Heather lifted her knees up,
making a little tent in the covers. "But only two more days to go."

Debbie didn't answer. She looked down at the pillow and giggled as she
lifted it and slid it down her thigh to her foot. "You know, it does
feel kinda good."

Heather smiled and slid her legs around on the bed some more. "I think
I'm gonna sleep in the hose," she said softly, with clouds in her
eyes. "It'll remind me of Kurt."

"Doesn't feel THAT good," she frowned, but continued to rub the pillow
up and down her leg. A chime from somewhere nearby sounded out "Who
Can it be Now?" by Men at Work and Heather searched around for her
phone.

"Who's calling at this hour?" she muttered as she reached into her
purse on the night stand.

"Probably Jason reminding us to get a wake-up call," Debbie sighed and
tossed the pillow back on the bed. She reached down and fiddled with
the clasps on one of the garters.

Heather flipped open the phone. "'Lo?" She tossed open the bed covers
and laid there in her black stockings. "Yeah, we're just about to call
it a night. What's up?"

Debbie was bending over to get a bottle of sleeping pills out of her
purse, but suddenly jumped a foot into the air when Heather squealed.

"GET OUT!" Heather sprang to her knees on the bed and shouted into the
tiny phone. "Stop fucking with me!"

"What?" Debbie shuffled across the carpet on her black nylon-covered
toes and stood beside the other bed.

Heather jumped out of her bed and ran to the closet, still yelling
into the phone. "Oh, NO fucking WAY!"

"WHAT?!" Debbie asked again, scooting across the floor after her friend.

Heather pinched the phone between her naked shoulder and ear as she
rummaged through the closet and grabbed the hotel's terry cloth robe.
"If this is some kind of fucking joke, tell Jason I'm gonna KILL him!"

Debbie grabbed at the phone, but Heather ducked her and swung the robe
around her shoulders in one quick motion. "Hey, Squirrel, hold on,
'kay?"

Heather tossed the phone to Debbie as she fastened the robe around her
waist and reached for the door handle. "Talk to Squirrel," she said,
just before she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway,
leaving her puzzled roommate holding the phone with one hand and the
open door with the other.

Cautiously, the petite woman ventured down the hallway towards the
emergency exit stairway, reading the numbers on the doors as she went.
Reaching the end of the hall, she stood in front of a rather ornate
set of double doors. Putting a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle,
placed her ear to the doors. From back down the hallway, she heard
Debbie squeal.

"NO FUCKING WAY!" 

Startled, Heather jumped up and ran back down the hallway, grinning
like a maniac the whole way. Upon reaching the door, she grabbed her
giddy bunkmate by the arm and dragged her back into the room where
they both collapsed on a bed, laughing and giggling like kids.

"Did you hear anything?" Debbie managed to ask as soon as she calmed down.

"How could I, with some loud DOOFUS making all sorts of noise in the
hallway?" Heather laughed and slid the bottom of the robe against a
silky thigh.

Debbie jumped off the bed and walked over to the closet. "I still
don't believe it," she said. "I thought all those big celebrities
stayed in Four Seasons and stuff." She grabbed the other robe that was
hanging there.

"Hey," Heather got an idea, "maybe we can order room service and ask
whoever comes up if it's true. Think they'd tell?"

Debbie slipped into the robe and peered out of the peep hole into the
hall. "I kinda doubt it. I think they all take some kind of sacred
hotel oath or something."

Heather quickly slid out of the bed and over to the balcony window.
"Hey, think we can see something from out here?" she asked as she drew
back the curtains and fumbled with the outside door latch.

"You look, I'm gonna sneak down the hall," Debbie replied as she
opened the door.

Heather managed to slide the door open and stepped outside into the
darkness. The breeze blew the hem of the robe against her hose and she
reached up to pull the top edges tight against her neck. Leaning out
over the balcony railing, she peered to her left and counted the
windows. After a few moments of silent vigilance, she pulled the robe
tighter against her body and stepped back inside the room, just in
time to see Debbie sporting a nasty frown as she returned from the
hallway.

"No luck, huh?" Heather ventured. "Me neither."

Debbie plopped back down on her bed. "Oh, well, maybe if we get up
early tomorrow we'll have better luck."

"Geez," Heather mused as she sat on her own bed and retrieved her
phone, "I think I'll text my Mom."

"Cool idea!" 

"Yeah, she's her favorite actress," Heather smiled as she typed away
on the itty bitty buttons of her phone. "Says it's so great to finally
see older women getting some juicy parts."

Debbie lay back on her bed. "I can't fucking BELIEVE it. Mandy Tuck
sleeping right down the hallway. How far do you think it is?"

"Oh, twenty yards, maybe."

"Hey, maybe it's more like ten if the room next door is part of the suite."

"Man, now there's absolutely no way I'm gonna sleep tonight!" Heather
stood back in front of the vanity mirror in the bathroom and played
with her hair. "I think I'll need one of your pills."

Debbie opened the bottle and sighed. "I'll have to take two." 

"Save two for me," Heather shuffled in from the bathroom and went to
the door for one final look outside...

___________


Tawana tapped her right foot and hummed to herself as she inputted
figures for the room and taxes into her front desk computer for the
night's billing.

"Penny for your thoughts?" a voice from behind her made her jump.

"Damn, Joe!" the young woman put a hand in front of her mouth to hold
the expletive in. And stepped back, raising her arms.

The tall black graveyard security guard danced around to her right,
raising his fists up in a mock defensive pose. "Hey, now, you want my
job for tonight, boo, you can have it," he laughed. "Especially with
all the drunken frat boys hanging out in the bar."

She rolled her eyes, then a light bulb went off over her head. "Hey,
you get any noise complaints from the fourteenth floor, you better be
sure to let me come up with you."

He put a hand to his chin. "Hmm, I wonder why?" he chuckled and
quickly stepped back to avoid her swipe at his shoulder.

"Now, you tell me you don't care Mandy Tuck is upstairs in our hotel!" 

"Okay, just a little." He put up his fists again. "It's not like Halle Berry..."

"Yeah, fuck you too," she huffed and turned back to her computer.
"Don't you have some college kids to harass?"

"So, like what's all about this Mandy Tuck?" He walked out in front of
the counter. "Never seen any of her flicks. She okay for a white
girl?"

She started typing again. "I think I hear Miss Thomas calling you."

"Now, when Lionel Richie walked in the door..."

"So months ago," she mumbled out of the side of her mouth.

"Or Beyonce..."

"Weeks."

"Damn, girl, that's harsh..." He walked over to the bowl of apples
sitting on the bell desk, then cocked his eyes sideways as he watched
a huge mass of roses walk through the front sliding glass doors. As
the flowers passed him, his eyes dropped down to the green and red
plaid short short skirt and thigh-high white stockings that marched
along behind them.

Emphasis on behind.

Eventually, the flowers reached the front desk and Tawana stood on her
tiptoes to peer over them. "Hi!" an impossibly high voice chirped from
somewhere inside the bouquet. "I'm here to see Mandy Tuck!"

From where he stood, it was all Joe could do to keep from breaking out
in laughter. Luckily, his training got the better of him and he held
it in while the bizarre figure stood at the desk. He could make out a
pair of blonde pigtails, a white blouse, five-inch black strap pumps
and not much more. He found it difficult to concentrate on anything
other than the glimpse of white flesh between the bottom of the skirt
and the top of the stockings.

"Uh," Tawana started, "we don't have anyone here registered by that
name..." The mass of red and green moved slightly to her left and an
impish face craned around it.

"Oh, could you please, like, check again?" That whining voice made
Tawana want to scratch at her ears. "She's expecting me."

"I'm sorry, but even if we had anyone here by that name, I couldn't
give out a room number..."

"I had the number," the face pouted, "but I lost it."

Tawana did her best to fight the urge to roll her eyes, straightening
her name tag instead. "Even if that were the case, we can't..."

"She said she'd, you know, leave a key for me. Could you PLEEEEEASE
check again?"

The black girl instinctively moved one hand up to her ear... "What was
the name again?"

"Bubbles."

Joe's hand immediately jumped to cover his mouth. Tawana dropped to
her knees to retrieve an imaginary something or other on the floor.
Even the roses blushed.

"What?" The little eyelids fluttered. 

"Sorry..." Tawana mumbled from somewhere behind and below the counter,
"If you'll excuse...me hehe... I...dropped...hehe...something..."

Jane Thomas walked out from the back office and took in the scene.
"May I help you, Miss...?"

"Bubbles."

She paused only for a moment before twenty years of guest service
experience rose to the surface. "Well, err, Miss...Bubbles...what can
we do for you?" Tawana remained on her butt behind the counter, a
finger firmly clenched between her teeth to keep the laughter down
where it belonged.

"I'm here to see Miss Tuck," Bubbles sighed. "But I'm not having much luck."

"Well, let's see what we can do about that," Jane smiled as she pulled
up the information of the Presidential Suite. "Do you have a room
number?"

"She gave it to me, but, like, I lost it." Bubbles pouted again.
"We're kinda, sorta friends, but not really."

The night manager did a double take as she pulled up the Memo Screen
for the reservation. Sure enough, there in CAP LOCK letters:

"EXTRA KEY FOR 'BUBBLES.'"

Jane glanced down at Tawana and gave a slight shrug as she reached
over and tapped in the code for a duplicate key. "Sorry about the
confusion, Miss."

Bubbles smiled wide. "Oh, no problem, really, this kind of stuff,
like, happens to me ALL the time!"

Jane forced a smile as she inserted the key card for processing, then
forced it into an envelope and wrote the room number on the front.
Sliding the envelope across the polished surface of the desk, she
again apologized for the inconvenience.

"No problem," Bubbles chirped as she slid the envelope into her
blouse. Picking the flowers back up, she started to turn towards the
elevators, then suddenly stopped. "By the way," she said, fairly
loudly and to no one in particular, "tell Tawana I think she's fucking
HOT!"

Then she shot off across the lobby towards the elevators, giggling
like a maniac.

Joe could hold it in no longer. Laughing loudly, he stumbled over to
the desk just before Tawana could crawl into the office, her face
about as pale as a black woman's can get. "Yep, it's gonna be one of
THOSE nights!" he roared.

__________________________


Lilly the bartender was up to her ears in fraternity sweaters and
sorority skirts. "I can remember when a letter jacket meant something
more than 'let's get drunk and party,'" she sighed as she poured yet
another double shot of Jack Daniels.

"Hey, as long as they pay hotel prices," Matt smiled and darted around
the corner of the bar to catch yet another rocks glass before it
tumbled to the floor. The two of them could barely hear each other
over the raucous laughter that filled the small hotel bar. "Don't
worry, I'll stay late and help you clean up."

"I don't envy Joe tonight," Lilly said, shoving the shot glass in the
direction of yet another fucked-up coed. "I bet these guys got at
least three rooms full of booze upstairs."

"So long as they pay their bills before he kicks 'em out," he chuckled
as he tossed the empty glass back into the soapy water in the sink and
reached up to grab another bottle of beer out of the cooler. "And
it'll keep him awake."

She looked at her watch and frowned. "Two hours." 

Matt hit some buttons on the register and the cash drawer opened. "If
this keeps up, I might have to make a drop!"

"And leave me alone with these monsters?!" As if on cue, a half-empty
bottle rolled across the bar and over the edge, spilling its content
down the front of her black uniform before it hit the mat and
shattered at her feet. "Maaaaaattttt?"

"Okay, maybe not," he shrugged as he ran to get the broom...

On the other side of the bar, Brad, the geology major, was attempting
to wipe some beer off the big "A" on the front of his jacket. "And I'm
telling YOU that I saw her with my own eyes!"

"Right, just like the time you and old man Nestor's wife..." Gerry,
the starting second baseman, interrupted his own sentence by chugging
down the rest of his Bud Light.

"Hey, I woulda proved it if the damned battery on the camcorder hadn't
run down." Brad lifted his own bottle and started to drain it.

"Riiiight," Gerry spun the bottle on the bar and unleashed a burp so
loud that Brad started sputtering in the middle of a swallow, bent
forward suddenly and started convulsing in alternate fits of laughter
and choking.

"You...FUCKER!" He slid off his stool and went down to one knee as he
fought to keep two hours and twenty dollars worth of beer down.

"Damn," Gerry laughed as he patted his frat buddy on the back, "What
did I tell you about lying while chugging? Man, ain't no better
bullshit detector than beer!"

Straightening back up, Brad took a playful swing at the other man.
"Fuck you, I'm gonna get a picture of her just to prove you're sorry
ass wrong!"

"Yeah, right, just make sure you check your...batteries," Gerry
laughed, picked up the empty bottle and slammed it on the bar to get
Lilly's attention.

"Yeah, well, FUCK YOU!" Brad yelled as he staggered off towards the
restroom. "FUCK YOU!"

____________________


"Surprise!!!" 

Johnny stared at the talking bouquet of roses as it walked through the
open door of the suite. "Never met a moving flower bed before," was
all he could think of to say. He adjusted the towel about his waist.

The flowers swiveled to his right and studied the broad-shouldered man
through squinty eyes. "Hey, you're not Mandy!"

He dropped his head down to look across his chiseled chest to the
muscled waves of his abs. "Nope, not last time I looked." The thin
pale set of legs skipped the flowers over to the nearest counter and
set them down.

"Wow!" Bubbles chirped as she quickly glanced around the large room
and widened as they focused on the huge set of windows looking out
over the lights of the city. "This place is, like, so fucking cool!"
She tore her eyes away to look back at Johnny. "Do you, like, come
with the room, or does she have to pay extra?" she giggled.

Johnny smiled and dropped the towel. "Darlin', even this place
couldn't afford me," he smiled and turned around to glide towards a
door to an adjacent room, his ears waiting patiently for a reaction.
Usually the deep breath was audible from across a room. Occasionally,
he'd even hear the swallow.

But the wolf whistle caught him completely off-guard. "Woo-hoo, swing
that butt!"

"Hahahaha!" he laughed as he peeked back around the doorway to see her
bouncing towards him. "Mandy's in the tub," he pointed towards a door
on the opposite wall of the suite. "And I've got to get dressed."

She suddenly stopped and looked hurt. Even her pigtails seemed to
droop just a bit lower. "Sorry, girlfriend, maybe in some other
lifetime," he mocked a lisp. "I've heard WAY too many stories about
you and I like myself JUST the way I am."

"TEASE!" she yelled playfully as he disappeared into the darkness,
then she turned back to study the room again. "So this is how famous
people live," she said to herself as she walked over to the windows to
look down on the lights and the endless ocean beyond.

After a few more moments, she started to walk towards the door to
Mandy's room, then suddenly stopped. With a smile and another fit of
the giggles, she reached down and untied her blouse, then kicked off
her shoes and pushed down her skirt and stepped out of it. She
shuffled across the carpet in only her white stockings and slowly,
cautiously pushed the door open.

Treading as lightly as possible, she tiptoed slowly down the small
hallway, following the heavy scent of cherry-scented perfumed bubble
bath. With one hand over her mouth to prevent herself from making a
telltale sound, she crept silently towards the unsuspecting movie
star. Wrapping her free hand around the frame of the bathroom doorway,
she fell to her knees and peeked around the corner into the dimly lit
room.

It was a huge master bathroom, befitting the overall size of the
Presidential Suite. On the far side of the ornate tile floor, an
absolutely massive Jacuzzi was built directly into the deck. Behind it
was yet another large window overlooking the few city streets between
the hotel and the beach. She could hear the slight hum of the water as
it swirled around the tub and thought she could barely make out a
figure sitting upright in the water by the window. She took a deep
breath...

...and jumped up and quickly slid across the slick tile floor, picking
up speed as she moved.

"CANNONBALL!!!!" 

Amanda Tuck quickly pushed her feet against the wall of the tub and
slid back against the left wall to avoid the incoming Bubbles bomb.
Hot soapy water flew everywhere, including a good seven feet back into
the interior of the room. The glass window shook.

"Nice to see some things never change," Mandy giggled as Bubbles
jumped back out of the Jacuzzi almost as quickly as she had entered.

"DAMN, that's fucking hot!" The younger woman jumped up and down on
the tile floor in only her wet white stockings, desperately trying to
wipe the soap out of her eyes. "Owowowowowow!!!!!"

Mandy reached over and grabbed a hand towel off a nearby rack and
stood up to help Bubbles wipe her eyes. "Good to see you too."

As soon as her eyes could focus again, Bubbles wrapped her arms around
the other woman and hugged her tightly. "Eeeeeeeee!!!!!" she squealed.
"Mandy!!!!!"

Almost immediately, Mandy's face locked into a grimace and she pulled
away and plopped back down into the hot tub. "Careful, careful," she
sighed and crossed her arms over her breasts as she looked up at the
stunned girl woman standing over her.

"Geez, my nips are on FIRE!" Bubbles moaned as she ran her fingers
across her small breasts. "Oh, geez, like, I totally forgot." A finger
moved down her stomach and her hand cupped itself over her naked
pussy. "What a rush!"

"Uh, yeah," Mandy forced a smile, then turned back to look out the window. 

Bubbles slowly dipped one foot into the water, then the other, finally
opting to sit on the cool tile on the edge of the Jacuzzi, her
stocking feet dangling in and out of the extremely hot water. "Sorry,"
she sniffed.

"Oh, my fault, really," Mandy said. "It's been too long and things
have...changed." She turned back to Bubbles and patted her on a knee.
"So, girlfriend, what's up with you?"

"Well, nothing so much with me." She splashed her feet in the soapy
water. " Bailey's thinking about running for, like, either DA or maybe
even mayor!"

Mandy smiled. "She's certainly got the drive for it." 

"Yeah. And with Higgy's money and Bandy's...well, you know..."

Mandy turned back to the window. "Yeah, I know."

"Sorry." Bubbles sighed, then reached out her hand and splashed some
water. "Hey, we all went out to see your big movie!"

The older woman simply continued to stare out at the ocean. "So, does
he talk about me?"

"Uh, no, not really." Bubbles slid slowly into the water to move
closer to her. "But, you know, he doesn't talk about much of anything
except what he's, like, doing in the right now."

Mandy's face focused silently on her silhouette, reflected on the glass. 

"You really do look great." Bubbles moved over beside her at the
window and stared right along with her. "If anything, it looks like
you're, you know, getting younger."

"For all I know, I might be," Mandy whispered softly and wetness began
to collect in her eyes. "Then again, for all I know, I might be
growing horns and a tail."

Bubbles slipped an arm around her shoulder and laid her head against
the window. "I know I'm not, like, the best kind of person to talk
to..."

Mandy leaned her own head against the window and swallowed hard.
"That's just it, Barbara, there's no one I CAN talk to. I can't really
go to a doctor, what the fuck do I say? Some demon put a curse on me?
I suddenly became the sexual version of the Duracell rabbit. She keeps
going and going and everyone around her keeps cumming and cumming?"

Despite herself, Bubbles found one hand covering her mouth to suppress
a laugh as her friend continued. Her other hand reached down into the
depths of the soapy water...

"Hell, I'm the only actress in Hollywood who can't do a fucking
kissing scene without the director closing the set because the crew
keeps getting hard-ons and can't operate the equipment. Every time my
nipples get hard, someone around me has an orgasm. And I think it's
even getting worse."

Bubbles closed her eyes as two fingers slipped into her pussy. "Worse?"

"During one of the test screenings of my latest film, there were
actually reports of people masturbating in the audience."

"Cool!" Bubbles opened one eye and slowly moved one hand towards one
of Mandy's boobs...

"Not fucking cool. It was a damned Disney film!" 

Bubble's finger touched Mandy's erect nipple, and both women shuddered
in unison.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" Bubbles clasped her thighs together hard around her
hand. Mandy bit her lower lip and her face contorted, then relaxed as
she slid back away from the window, her head slowly sinking into the
water of the Jacuzzi.

"Damn, Mandy!" yelled a male voice from somewhere deep within the
confines of the suite. "That one ruined my new pair of Calvins!
Couldn't you have at least waited until I was gone!"

_________________


Brad grasped the tiny camera in one hand as he stumbled out of the
elevator onto the fourteenth floor landing.

Slowly and quietly he walked down the plush carpet of the main
hallway, listening carefully for any sounds. After ten minutes of
frustration, he made his way back to the elevator and leaned against
the fire extinguisher panel and frowned. "Fucking big shot celebrities
don't even party," he muttered under his breath.

Finally, he straightened back up and an evil expression that would do
the Grinch proud flashed across his face. Running back down the
hallway, he stopped in front of the first doorway along the hall to
the Presidential Suite. Drawing a deep breath, he suddenly began
pounding on the door.

"Open the fuck up, I know you're in there!" he yelled as loudly as he
could, then he laughed and ran down to the next door and quickly
repeated the procedure at each and every door from one end of the
hallway to the other. Then he ducked into the emergency stairwell at
the end of the hallway, readied his camera and opened the door just
enough so he could peek down the hallway.

And he waited.

And waited.

After five minutes of waiting, he ran back down to the other end of
the hallway and did the same thing again. Only louder.

Down in the security office, Joe's phone lit up. He looked at his
watch. "Starting early tonight, are we?" he chuckled to himself, then
picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand?" chuckled the
deep male voice on the other end.

"Wassup, slacker?" Joe laughed, "Getting bored answering phones down there?" 

"Nah, not tonight, rookie. We got some drunken fratboy on fourteen
running up and down the hallway pounding on the doors."

"No one up there but the movie star, right?"

"Mostly. But Jane's been putting some of the models up there too, a
bit further down the hallway. Evidently one of them's a diva who gets
cranky if she doesn't get her beauty sleep. Raises a different kind of
hell every five minutes."

"I'm on it."

"Should I call Jane?"

"Fuck no, I don't need her walkin' on me," Joe snorted. "But if the
big shot movie star complains, you might want to give Tawana a call. I
promised her I'd clue her in if I had to go up there."

"Will do. That's one fucking MILF I'd do in a heartbeat. Rented her
last flick and popped a fucking woody that even lasted through the
credits."

"Aw, damn, Phil, not you too," Joe shook his head.

"Really, you ought to..."

"Oh, fuck that, I'll get you an autograph or somethin'."

"Damn straight, you better."

Joe hung up the phone, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair
and headed to the service elevator. "Fucking white woman probably
don't even have a butt on her," he muttered to himself as he pushed
the button for the fourteenth floor.

__________________________


"Get out!" Bubbles closed one eye as she brushed out Mandy's longish
red hair and stared at the other woman's reflection in the full-length
mirror.

"No, seriously, my manager arranges it every time I stay in a hotel."

Bubbles idly scratched an itch underneath her bare breast. "No wonder
all the supermarket rags, like, call you a diva."

"Makes me feel kind of like a superhero with a secret identity." Mandy
giggled. "The rest of the world thinks Amanda Tuck gets a whole hotel
floor to herself because she's rich and spoiled and only the rare few
know the real truth!" She took a deep breath and half-smiled. "Maybe I
ought to see if my agent can get me a part in the next X-Men movie!"
she laughed.

"That would be SO fucking cool!" Bubbles jumped up on her toes as she
pulled Mandy's hair into a tail. "I always, you know, wondered what
the metal guy would, like, look like with a hard on," she giggled. "Or
maybe you could, like, have someone write your own superhero movie!"

Mandy chuckled as she wiggled her fingers in front of the mirror. "I
could foil terrorists by playing with myself and all the evildoers
would all start humping each other!"

"Hmm," Bubbles mused, "I think I already saw an anime like that." 

Mandy huffed and balled her hands into fists. "Hrmph. Probably
couldn't get it by the ratings board anyway."

"Hey, how 'bout you, like, thumb your clittie and have the ratings
people start humping each other!"

Mandy gave her a high five. "Damn, girlfriend, you're evil!"

"That's only 'cause I got the BEST teacher!" Bubbles laughed.

With that, Amanda Tuck sullenly slid back into her chair. Her
shoulders sagged slightly. "Part of me really...hoped he'd come with
you," she whispered, softly.

Bubbles finished twisting her friend's hair and grabbed a hair band
off a nearby table. "He said something about even the devil needing a
vacation," she answered under her breath.

The two of them stared into the mirror for a moment in silence, as if
waiting for something. Finally, Bubbles forced a smile. "Hey, there,
all done." She stood back a bit. "I don't know too many women who can,
like, pull off long red hair."

Mandy stood up and put her hand to the back of her head. "Every time I
try cutting it, I can't seem to bring myself to do it."

Bubbles started to say something, then stopped. 

"What?" The older woman turned around.

The little girl woman turned to look out into the darkness past the
balcony window. "Nothing."

"For a lawyer, you aren't a very good liar," Mandy smiled and put her
hands on the girl's shoulders as she joined her in staring out the
window.

"Bandy talked about your hair, you know, when we saw your last movie,
like, that's the only thing he liked," Bubbles sniffed.

Mandy bent down and kissed the back of her head. "It's okay,
girlfriend, it's like I expected it." She wrapped her arms around the
girl. "I think back to those days as a cop all the time. Growing up,
all I wanted to be was a movie star. Marilyn. Greta Garbo. I'd dress
up in front of a mirror and leave lipstick marks on the glass."

"Still..." 

The older woman twirled Bubbles around and struck a naked pose in
front of the mirror, her magnificent breasts thrust out and her waist
twisted at just exactly the perfect angle. "No, you don't understand.
Not just a movie star, THE movie star." Bubbles felt her hand inching
slowly downward once again as Mandy changed poses, each one
more...primal than the last. "The kind of woman who blew men vulgar
kisses and watched them fall all over themselves to get to her."

"And here I am, thirty-six years old, come from nowhere,
twenty-million dollars a film." Bubbles walked backwards slowly until
she felt the bed spreading behind her, her fingers moving over her
body as if they were each driven by their own little clitties, pulsing
with each word from the mouth of the sexual battery moving in front of
her. "I turn down a dozen offers for magazine covers every single day.
All I have to do is smile and men who have not had erections in thirty
fucking years cum in their pants."

Spinning on her heels, Amanda Tuck brought one hand to her breast and
ran the other slowly, seductively across her forehead towards her
oh-so perfect hairline. "I'm better than fucking Viagra."

Bubbles laid back on the bed and closed her eyes, basking in the raw
feeling sweeping over her. She clenched her teeth and balled her hands
into fists, fighting the urge to bring herself to climax, hoping
instead...

Mandy laughed and brought her finger down slowly over her own stomach.
"Can Viagra do THIS?" She grinned and tossed her head back and tweaked
a nipple, laughing as she watched Bubbles convulse on the bed, her
hands still balled up at her sides.

"Fucking...cool!" Bubbles chirped, and somehow managed to avoid biting
her own tongue in the process. And she came again.

"Geez," Mandy sighed as she plopped down on the bed beside her.
"You're just too damned easy."

Bubbles giggled and came again, her hands moving behind her head to
cradle it even as her chest flushed and her legs tensed up.

"You, like...say that like it's a...bad thing."

___________________


Heather tossed from side to side in her bed, the silky bed sheets long
since gathered to one side, and the down comforter lay partly on the
carpet. The black hose that ran two-thirds the way up both legs
glistened with perspiration and her dark hair swept from side to side
as she slid back and forth.

"Kurt," she moaned softly, and her fingers opened and closed around
the edges of the feathered pillows.

One bed over, Debbie was playfully purring in her sleep as cases upon
glass cases of diamond earrings and emerald necklaces stretched before
her eyes, running well past the horizon and into the ruby skies.

Between the two beds, one the night stand, the still-open bottle of
pills sat half-empty. The thermostat kicked on the air-conditioner and
the breathy moans and hums were lost for a moment amidst the steady
buzz of the fan pushing new air into the room. For a short while,
anyway...

"Open the fuck up, I know you're in there!" 

The heavy door muffled the masculine voice a bit, but the pounding
shook the glass window on the other side of the room. Heather lay
silent for a moment. "Kurt?" she asked, her voice still muffled, the
words rising up from some part of her brain that still worked.



Stalking silently down the hallway on the fourteenth floor, Joe
grinned in anticipation, very much feeling like a cat following a
wounded bird. He loved his job and busting drunken guests was one of
the reasons why. His dick began to harden in his trousers.
Slowly approaching the hallway corner towards the Presidential Suite,
he stopped to listen. His grin slowly melted as the moments of silence
piled upon each other until finally he gave a silent sigh and turned
the corner.

Nothing. 

At the far end of the hallway, the door to the stairwell closed
quickly and without a sound. Brad caught his breath and instinctively
covered his mouth when he felt the fermented air rising up his
esophagus. He smiled despite it all and one of his hands moved down to
feel the front of his jeans. Damn, this was exciting. Most of the time
the booze made it go away.



Bubbles was staring at the air vent in the corner of the suite. "So,
what's, like, the story behind Johnny?"

"Oh, he's my experiment," Mandy giggled. "Gay as the year is long. I
take him with me everywhere, because he's the only person I've met who
can get all the way through a massage without melting into a puddle of
goo."

"Wow!" Bubbles laughed. "That's intense."

Mandy closed her eyes. "Pity eunuchs don't advertise in the Yellow Pages."

Bubbles started to laugh, then realized that maybe she wasn't making a
joke. The two lay there in silence for a few minutes.

"Hey," Mandy broke the quiet, "did I tell you I bought a yacht and
learned to sail?"

"Cool."

"The best investment I ever made," the older woman mused. "So
relaxing. I can go miles out into the Pacific and do whatever the hell
I want to without having to worry about anyone being anywhere around."

"That's...great," Bubbles' voice trailed off and she propped her head
up on an elbow. "I gotta admit I was, well, you know...jealous...at
first."

"Don't get me wrong, it's still a really interesting life." Mandy
sighed. "Just...complicated."

Bubbles lay there and stared at her for a moment. "Hey, I got an
idea." She sat up on the bed. "You say that there's no one else around
now, right?"

"Shouldn't be."

The small blonde lay down on her belly and slid down the bedspread
towards Mandy's feet. "I want to, like, conduct an experiment of my
very own." She turned her head to look back up at the movie star and
ran her tongue slowly over her upper lip.

Mandy's eyes shot open as she felt a wetness on her knee. "I don't
know if that's such a great idea."

"I want to see how long I can go before I, like, melt into a puddle of
goo," Bubbles giggled, as she started running her lips across the
inside of Mandy's thighs...

____________________


Joe stood in the hallway outside the large suite, his hands firmly on
his hips, and stared down at the tent in his pants. "Okay, you," he
said to himself, "where'd the hell you come from and where were you
when I needed you LAST night." He was just about to stalk off back
down the hall to the elevator when he caught a movement out of the
corner of his eye.

"Kurt?" a frail voice whispered, and Joe wheeled around to see a door
slowly opening a few yards down the hallway. Straightening up, he
self-consciously moved against one wall and adjusted himself inside
his pants. "Kurt, is that you?" the voice repeated, a bit louder now.

Cautiously, he walked down the hallway towards the open door, craning
his neck to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that was halfway in and
halfway out of the room...

And suddenly he froze. His whole two weeks of union training didn't
include this. He quickly moved his hand up to snap his jaw back into
place. Then he blinked both eyes and shook his head. Standing in the
door, staring out at pretty much nothing, was what he assumed was one
of the models in house for the fashion show in the morning. She was
certainly dressed for it.

Or not dressed for it. 

Five-foot nine from the carpet up, he guessed, though his eyes got
stuck momentarily at the three and four foot marks. Wearing nothing
but a pair of black hose and garters. One hand on the door, one
hand...there. Moaning softly. Eyes open, but fixated on something only
she could see. He swallowed hard and looked around for the hidden
camera. "This has GOT to be some kind of test for the rookie," he said
out loud.

"Kurt?" she moaned again, and her fingers...twitched. And not the ones
on the door. "Kurt, I need you sooooo bad..." Her words were slurred,
her long dark hair hanging wet and straight down behind her. Joe
instinctively backed away but suddenly felt the rush down there he
usually only felt after one of Bernice's absolutely amazing blow jobs.
His eyes blurred up and his chest felt like it was going to explode.

Joe had memory flashes of all things, Red Fox's old TV show he used to
watch as a kid. "I'm coming, Elizabeth!" Or was it cumming? Whatever
was coming, his knees were going. Then, as quickly as it came, the
feeling passed and he took several really deep breaths. In the doorway
in front of him, the supermodel had fallen to her knees and sweat was
plainly, visibly running down both cheeks now.

"Ohhh, KURT!" she shuddered, louder now and looked as if she was going
to topple over at any time. Joe gathered himself and moved to her,
waving his hand in front of her face, trying his best not to give into
the temptation of his first, second AND third thoughts.

"MIss?" he ventured softly, then louder when he got no reaction from
either the waves or the whispers. "Miss?" Cautiously, he placed a hand
on her shoulder and bent down to stoop in front of her. "Miss?" he
repeated. "Anyone there?" Her eyes continued to stare off into a world
he couldn't see.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped as his chest tightened again and his dick
suddenly felt like it wanted to rip its way out of his shorts. His
brain cried "I need this job, I need this job, I need this job," over
and over again, followed quickly by "Bernice is gonna KILL me."

"Kurt!" she moaned and his hands didn't offer a whole lot of
resistance as her free arm wrapped itself around his neck and the
softer parts of her face drove itself against his, covering his mouth
with sloppy wetness. "Oh, fuck me, Kurt, please? Fuck."

Joe felt his brain come up for one last gasp of air. "How much can it
hurt to be Kurt for an hour or so?" Then it promptly went under.

Down at the end of the hallway, Brad heard a door slam. "Damn," he
thought as he moved his hand from his cock just long enough to peek
back out of the stairwell door into the now-empty hall. "Fuck that,"
he gasped and dropped his camera so he could use both hands.

__________________


"What do you mean he took a noise complaint without informing me?"
Jane Thomas was not a happy manager.

On the other end of the phone in the dispatch office, Phil was busy
rolling his eyes and making goofy faces as Tucker was doing his best
to keep from laughing as he listened in. "Sorry, Ma'am, we just didn't
think..."

"That's your problem, Phil, you DON'T think!" she fumed, tugging at
the bottom of her blue top. "I told you that any complaints from the
fourteenth floor needed to go through me."

"Sorry." He stuck out his tongue and rolled it around the receiver.
Tucker covered his mouth, but almost lost liquid through his nose
anyway.

"Just log it in," Jane said as she grabbed her suit jacket off the
back of her chair, "I need to go up there and document it."

"By your command!" Phil blurted out in a robot voice as he slammed the
phone down.

Tucker finally blew the cap off the volcano. "Bwahahaha, what a fucking bitch!"

"Yeah, if she spent less time watching soaps and more at Anger
Management or Weight Watchers, maybe she wouldn't still be forty and
single."

The two of them looked at each other for a moment. "Yeah, right!" they
said at exactly the same time, then spent the next minute in fits of
laughter.

Tucker adjusted his name tag. "Oh, well, I think I'll go up there and
watch the fireworks," he said with a smile as he walked to the door.
"I'd hate to see us lose another overnight security guy."

"Yeah," Phil said as he reached over to answer another phone call, "I
feel for the guy. I know what it's like to be out of a job for pissy
reasons."

As Tucker started to leave the dispatch center, he looked back at
Phil. "Hey, Phil, you got your camera with you?"

"Sure," he replied. "You thinking of becoming a paparazzi?" he laughed.

Tucker shrugged. "Never know when you might get lucky."

Phil opened a drawer in his desk, fished out a small digital camera
and tossed it to his buddy. "Hey, if you sell it on Ebay, remember who
gave it to ya," he laughed.

"That depends on what she's wearing," Tucker grinned and quickly
darted out of the office.


Bubbles managed to shake her head once, but it didn't help much. Tried
to see how long she could hold her breath, but started panting again
before she could even get to one. Her eyes were all blurry on the few
occasions she could get them open. Nine fingers felt wet right down to
the bone. The tenth was probably wet as well, but she couldn't even
feel it anymore. Her legs lay mostly off the bed now and she couldn't
feel any of her toes.

Mandy raised her own head up, grabbed another pillow with one hand and
shoved it underneath so she could get a better look at what was left
of her little friend down there between her thighs. "Say Uncle?" she
grinned as she parted herself even wider with the other hand.

Bubbles opened one eye. Slid one hand slowly across the wet sheets and
found her fingers just long enough to grip at as much of the linen as
she could. Then she crawled the fingers of her other hand on the other
side of the bed and did likewise. Took one more breath. And pulled
with all her might until she was again within striking distance of her
target, her own belly and mound and thighs melted so far into the
sheets that they moved with her as if a part of her.

"Just...getting...started," she breathed, and dropped her head between
Mandy's open fingers.

Mandy shuddered as she felt yet another orgasm flow through the both
of them. "Masochist."

"Sadist," Bubbles moaned in defiance. And flicked her tongue again.


Joe collapsed from his knees, his back landing hard against the bed.
His dick pulsed in yet another attempt to shoot, but he'd long since
run out of ammo. He held his head in his hand and swallowed hard,
trying to catch his breath after the orgasm. Fourth? Fifth? He
couldn't remember. Couldn't think.

"Oh, fuck...Kurt," Heather moaned as she laid her head against his
chest, her arm went limp and her fingers fell from her pussy, sliding
across her hose until they lay on the carpet like five little painted
soldiers. Defeated. Her other hand slid desperately down his uniform
shirt and naked stomach to try and grip his dick again, but it also
gave out and fell to rest on the open belt of his pants, which were
now bunched up around his knees.

Her eyelids closed over her unfocused pupils, taking in the swirling
dots, the blurs and squiggles and dark and light clouds of dream
matter that we all see when we no longer...see. Her lips curled into
the smile of the babe in the crib when the lights go out at night.
Whatever part of her brain that was left tried once more to get either
hand to scratch that itch that had never gone away, but very soon it
too lost the fight.

Joe raised his head to the heavens, but his eyes could only see as far
as the dark ceiling of Room #1433. He finally got his mind back enough
to think about...things. Strange things. Things only a hotel security
guard might think at times like this. Looking down at Heather asleep
on his chest he once again felt the hairs on the back of his neck
stand to attention. Even numbers are kings, odd numbers are doubles...

He felt fingers running through his hair as his dick tried once again
to shoot. "Fuuuuuuuck..."
______________

"Fuck!" Jane muttered under her breath as she exited the guest
elevator on the fourteenth floor. "I knew they shouldn't have given ME
the rookie. The fuckers all seem to think this place shuts down after
eleven."

Adjusting her top once again, she stepped out of the tile of the
landing and into the carpeted hallway. She ran her hands down across
the butt of her long skirt to smooth out the wrinkles, then ran her
hands underneath her hairline to pull stray strands of her dirty
blonde hair out of the back of her blouse collar, then instinctively
bent down and dropped her hands to pull up the part of her hose that
had gravitated down around her ankles. And started to walk down the
hallway towards the wing with the Presidential Suite.

And stopped. She stared down at her ample chest to make sure her
nipples weren't visible through the thick dark material of her jacket
top. That would be...unprofessional? "More like impossible," she
whispered to herself, suddenly wondering why she was even thinking
about it. She reached down to pull up the edges of her skirt to make
sure the wetness wasn't showing.

"Damn, Jane Thomas, you are losing your fucking mind," she rolled her
eyes and started down the corridor again.

And stopped. She looked around to make sure no one was in the hallway,
then cautiously reached down into her skirt to feel herself to make
sure the wetness wasn't moving down her leg, then pulled it back out
once she was satisfied that it was confined to where it was...supposed
to be? Good thing I keep extra underwear in my locker, she thought, as
she brought her fingers up to her nose. "God, I fucking need a
boyfriend," she sighed as she looked around for something to wipe her
fingers on.

Not seeing anything convenient nearby, she shrugged and slowly licked
them until she was absolutely certain they were presentable. Only then
did she turn the corner towards the Presidential Suite to look for her
errant security officer.

In the stairwell, Brad grunted and came once more, the camera again
fell from his hand onto the cement staircase, this time bouncing down
several steps until it came to rest half a flight down. "FUCK!" he
groaned and rose to his feet to try and retrieve it, only to lose his
balance and fall back fully against the stairwell door. The door
suddenly flew open and the young man staggered back onto the hallway
carpet, trying in vain to grab hold of either the door itself or the
frame. Failing to do either, he found himself rolling on the carpet,
his pants and shorts bunched up around his ankles and his cock and
balls swinging free for all the world to see.

Jane Thomas blinked to clear her vision. Then blinked again. "What the fuck?!" 

Brad lay there moaning in a peculiar mixture of pleasure and pain. His
cock stood straight out, waving back and forth in the cool air flowing
from the vent above the stairwell door. He brought both hands to his
head and slapped himself lightly on the both cheeks in a futile
attempt to try and regain control of himself.

Jane stood there staring for a moment, then her professional training
took hold and she started walking quickly down the corridor towards
the coed laying on the carpet at the other end of the hall. "Sir!" she
said firmly. "Are you hurt?!" As she reached the Presidential Suite,
she paused for a moment, her ears detecting what sounded suspiciously
like a feminine scream. Suddenly, her knees buckled and she grabbed at
the door handle of the Suite to keep from falling. "Whaa...?"

As the orgasm shot through her, she abruptly bent over, slid down the
door frame and fell to her knees. She heard her skirt rip around the
seam of the zipper in the back as she fell on her belly on the carpet.
"Oh, godohgodoh..." she heard herself moan as she felt her legs tense
up and her hose tore around her knees as they rubbed violently across
the carpeting. Lying there for a moment, she finally caught her breath
and raised her head enough to look around.

The young man lay still a few yards away at the entrance to the
stairway, unmoving except for an occasional deep breath and facial
twitch. She managed to find the strength to raise up to her knees and
bent around to look the back of her skirt. Sure enough, the fabric had
torn along the zipper from her waist down halfway to her ass. "Fuck,"
she moaned. "Just what I fucking need right now."

Staggering to her feet, she looked down to examine her hose. "Fuck,"
she repeated as her fingers probed the two huge runs in the material.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Taking a deep breath, she moved towards the young
man laying prone at the end of the hallway, her eyes moving back and
forth between his face and... "Fuck," she said again.



Tucker felt his cock twitch in his trousers as he exited the service
elevator on the fourteenth floor. "Okay, you," he grinned as he looked
down at his crotch, "behave." Laughing, he opened the door from the
landing to the hallway and looked around. "Damn, Joe," he whispered to
himself, "I hope I get to you before she does."

Listening intently as he shuffled down the hallway towards the suites,
he glanced down at his crotch yet again. "Damn," he chuckled, "it's
not THAT exciting. Save it until someone like Lindsey Lohan checks
in..." Not hearing anything out of the ordinary, he rounded the corner
to the Presidential Suite...

And stopped cold. 

One hand grabbed at his crotch and the other grabbed for the wallpaper
covering the corner of the hallway and he quickly darted back around
the corner. "God fucking DAMN!" he blurted, then quickly covered his
mouth with one hand. He couldn't decide whether to laugh or throw up,
so he settled for just standing there trying his best to convince
himself he didn't see what he thought he saw. Slowly, cautiously, he
peeked back around the corner, then quickly pulled his head back
around. "Unfuckingbelieavable," he muttered to himself.

Slowly, he crept back to the elevator landing and looked down the
hallway in the other direction. Empty. He ran one hand down to his
zipper and released his cock. "I can't fucking believe I'm doing
this," he said to himself as he caught his breath and skulked back to
the corner and peeked back down the hallway towards the Presidential
Suite.

Jane Thomas, overnight manager and fat bitch that absolutely no one
liked, was on her knees on the far end of the corridor by the
stairwell, her skirt down at her knees, and she was bending over some
half-naked guy laying on the ground. From where he stood, all Tucker
could really see was her huge white ass covered by what must have been
the largest size pantyhose available in retail outlets.

But it was enough. He slid out the camera and checked the settings
carefully, knowing he might only get one shot.

"Damn," he cursed at his throbbing cock as he tried to adjust the
settings with one hand. "Now cut that out, dammit! That's not funny,"
he fumed beneath his breath as his body seemed to be fighting with his
brain. Bending back around the corner, he tried to focus the
viewfinder and adjust the zoom to get the best shot...

...and cringed when the flash went off. "Fuck, fuck," he thought as he
pulled back around the corner. "I'm so fucking fired." He fell to his
knees as he continued to stroke his cock as quickly as he could ever
remember. He struggled to focus on the digital screen on the back of
the camera to see if the picture took. "What the HELL is the matter
with you, man?" he whispered just before he shot all over the floor,
the drops of white looking a great deal like mayo against the
repeating colored pattern of the carpet.

"Damn," he sighed to himself as he studied the digital picture. At the
last second, his hand must have twitched, because all he got was a
fairly clear picture of the "EXIT" sign above the stairway. "Fuck."

On the other hand, he thought, she's not down here ripping me a new
one, so she must not have seen the flash. He wiped a few drops of cum
from his hand onto the wallpaper and reset the camera for another
shot. "Damn," he mused, "what's with you tonight?" he said to his cock
as he noticed it hadn't gone down. "Unreal."

Slowly, he looked back around the corner, remembering to hold the
camera steady with both hands. "Goddamn," he blurted out again, but
this time he didn't even bother trying to cover his mouth. Jane had
moved over the head of the unknown guy at the end of the hallway. She
had one hand inside her pantyhose and the other was busy holding his
cock steady as she moved it in and out of her mouth in a steady
motion.

Tucker flipped off the flash and slowly pushed down on the button to
snap the picture. Giggling like a maniac, he ducked back around the
corner to see how it'd come out. "Yes!" he laughed as he watched the
dark screen flash to life with something that was certain to be a hot
hit on the hotel's networked email system. "Take that you fucking
bitch," he snickered as one hand again reached down for his throbbing
manhood. As he stroked, he thought of all the nasty things he ever
thought of doing to Miss Jane Thomas, all the times she humiliated him
and the rest of the staff...

"Shit," he smiled as he came again, his hand slicking up with the
whiteness as it slowly ebbed out. "Twice in three minutes, gotta be a
record."

At the other end of the hallway, Jane Thomas felt herself shudder once
again as she ran her tongue across the young man's slit and down
around and under his fleshy helmet. "Fuck," she whispered yet again,
her breath hot from what must have been her fourth or fifth orgasm.
Her hand once again wrapped itself lightly around his shaft and tried
to coax it back to life.

Only this time it wasn't working. She dug her fingers deeper into her
pussy, reaching her index finger underneath to tickle her favorite
spot to try and keep what was left of her mind off of the fact that
her mouth now swallowing his limp cock whole. "Fuck," she cried again
and her lips renewed her effort to get him to rise up.

Her mouth kept working at it's impossible task, but she brought her
hand up and ran it under her top and under the hard fabric of her bra.
Her nipples were itching and she hadn't been able to scratch, so
intent was she on maintaining his erection. "Fuck," she cried again,
this time much louder, as she crawled on top of him to attack his face
with hers. "Wake up," she pleaded as she ran her lips across his
cheek. "Please?"

"Please?"

It was familiar and came from behind her. "I can't remember the last
time I heard you say that," it laughed.

Instinctively, she curled herself up into a ball, taking her hand out
of her top and moving it to her face. She tried to answer, but didn't
have the strength. "But I figure we'll be hearing it a lot more in the
future."

She looked up at him through blurry eyes and something deep down
inside, something fairly powerful rose through her mind and bubbled to
the surface. "Tucker?" She cleared her throat.
"Go..back...downstairs."

He smiled and snapped another picture. "You really are a mess, Jane,
though you'll look better in this one than you did in the last four,"
he laughed.

She closed her eyes. Her fingers stopped, but the emotional waves
sweeping her this way and that wouldn't obey. She came again. Hard.

"Ooh, that'll make a GREAT one!" Tucker snorted loudly, then suddenly
dropped the camera, his face contorting and his legs turning to sand.
Without a sound, he fell on his ass on the carpet and lay there
gasping and twitching as a slow muffled moan from far away filled the
hallway.


__________


Joe somehow managed to open his eyes and they slowly adjusted to the
darkness. He could hear the headboard of the bed as it gave a creak
and he felt his butt move up and down into the plush of the thick
mattress. "Damn!" His breath whistled through his teeth as he watched
her mass of red hair fly this way and that as the mysterious woman
bounced up and down on him. "You go girl." He tried to laugh, but
couldn't manage it.

Her eyes looked to be as blank as those of the last one, but at least
this one could say something other than "Kurt," he thought. At this
moment, in fact, she was obviously reliving some old high school
cheerleading moment.

"Two...four...six...eight..." she whispered between gasps for air, her
breasts bouncing just a half second behind the rest of her as they
moved beneath her white nightshirt... "who do we...appreciate?"

"I know the answer to that one," Joe chuckled to himself. "I just hope
I don't blank out again so I can remember it."

At that moment, Debbie leaned forward and two strands of her hair fell
into Joe's mouth, causing him to use what little energy he could
muster to turn his head to one side. He managed to move a hand up to
his mouth but the moment he grabbed a strand, she lifted back up again
and it snagged and broke. She abruptly stopped bouncing and moved an
arm up to the side of her face.

"Gee...Tom," she mumbled, and her eyes closed. "I
think...you're...fucking...gorgeous."

Joe sighed, but moved his hand up to pinch one of her nipples through
the thin dampness of the shirt while she was still. She smiled and
started rocking again, but at a much slower pace. "Tom, can...you do
me a...favor?" Her words coincided perfectly with her movements and
she punctuated the sentence with a tight squeeze on his dick exactly
at the question mark.

Joe's voice raised an octave. "Anything," he squeaked, hoping
desperately for an exclamation point.

"Say it," she grinned and she started moving faster. Her eyes opened
and she stared down right through him.

He exhaled slowly and rolled his eyes, trying desperately to figure
out this particularly befuddling riddle. Tom...Tom, what would a Tom
say with a young, vibrant red-haired zombiefied vixen riding up and
down on his dick. "You first," he whispered.

"Oh, don't...tease me, Tom..." She rocked her head back and forth like
a blind woman. Joe had sudden flashes of Stevie Wonder, but tried he
level best to get that particular vision out of his head. "You're
getting me...so fucking...hot, Tom." She quickened the pace again. Joe
swallowed hard and found his body moving along with hers, somehow
finding the strength from somewhere.

"Uh, I love you," Joe ventured, cautiously. 

"Oh, really...Tom...I'm not that...naive." She increased her rhythm
again. "Just say it."

Joe felt that familiar feeling swelling up again as she slowly slid
her knees forward slightly, picking herself up higher on the bed. "Uh,
You're the...best?" It was more a question than a statement.

She stopped for a moment and moved both her hands down onto his chest,
grabbing for as much hair as she could get, then started moving again.
Joe swallowed hard. "What would Nicole think?" she frowned. "Just say
it...please?"

Joe looked down at her hands, then felt his chest tingling both from
outside and inside. As she rocked more quickly now, he felt the tender
skin around his nipples aching from the way her fingers were wrapping
and pulling at his hair. At the same time, he could feel his dick
tensing again and the now all too familiar throb moving up from deep
inside. Her pussy was sliding all the way up and down his entire
length now, the sucking sounds of sloppy sex totally overwhelming
every other sound except one.

"Toooooooommmmmmm?" She was breathing very heavily now and she let go
of his chest with one hand to wipe the hair from her empty eyes.
"Pleeeeeassse?" And she came almost completely off him, then back down
firmly.

"Ooooooh, fuck me," Joe managed to laugh and knock his fist against
his forehead. "Fuck me," he whispered again, then took one extremely
deep breath, and steadied himself on the bed beneath her.

"Show me the money!" 

He felt the hairs on his chest all explode about the same time his
dick did. The animal on top of him literally howled like a wolf as she
ripped and clawed at him, her hips stopped moving and her thighs
squeezed his waist so hard they lifted him up off the bed a few inches
before she shuddered for a few seconds, then fell back on top of him,
her hair once again covering his face in a sweaty, tangled mess.

This time he didn't even have the strength to spit out the few that
found their way into his mouth...

For a moment all was silent and he thought he heard the
air-conditioner kick back on. She was muttering incoherently in his
ear now as she rubbed her face back and forth against his, but he
distinctly heard the last.

"Again..."

His last thought before he passed out yet again was how he used to
brag to all the other kids about how many times he could get it up.



Amanda Tuck smiled contentedly as she sat up on her bed to look down
at the limp body of the tiny woman resting her unconscious head
between the older woman's tired thighs. Slowly she got up on her knees
in the bed and turned Bubbles over, sliding her up and across the
sheets until her little blond pigtails rested on the pile of pillows
next to hers.

"You are certainly a piece of work, girlfriend," she whispered as she
lay back down beside her and kissed one of her cherry-red cheeks
lightly. "This is one of those vacations I'll need a vacation to
recover from."

She lightly moved her fingers down across the smaller woman's neck,
down over her still-engorged nipples until she rested them, openhanded
on the girl's stomach. With her other hand, she slowly worked at the
pigtails, releasing the strands from their bonds one after the other,
finally curling them all up and around her face until they framed it
to her satisfaction. Then she leaned over and adjusted her head just
right on the pillows, humming softly to herself all the while.

"Perfect," she sighed as she sat back and examined the results of her
efforts. "God, Barbara Kramer, you are one SEXY piece of work."

Then she leaned back on her pile of pillows and moved her hands back
to her own pussy as she savored every breath, yawn and movement of the
sleeping woman.

____________________



Jane Thomas opened her eyes to find her fingers in her mouth. Tasting
herself. "Oh, God," she moaned. It won't stop. Why won't it stop?
Quickly, her other hand dropped back down inside the front of her
hose...

Behind her, leaning against the wall, Tucker Simmons dropped his
camera. He shook his head and felt the wet spot in his pants. He shook
his head again. In front of him, Jane was crouched over, moaning
uncontrollably, her huge ass two feet from his face. He was rock hard.
Again. He slapped himself to try and get the thoughts out of his head.
Turned around to look down the hallway, then back at her ass...

Then back down the hallway. He'd been here a long time. Longer than
her. But she was the GM's pet. But that swelled head didn't know what
she was really like. Not like the rest of them. With a word she could
have him fired. The working part of his brain told him to run.

Instead, he found his hand reaching into his pants and pulling it
out... "Fuck it," he blurted. "Just fuck it."

Jane bowed her head and stared at the young man's limp form on the
carpet in front of her. "Why won't it just go away?" she whimpered.
And slid a second finger inside...

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that," she heard the devil's voice
behind her. "A fucking fat ass bitch!" She swallowed hard and tried
not to look at the limp cock in front of her. Closed her eyes. Pinched
her lids together as tightly as she could.

"You want it, bitch?" She shook her head madly. Heard him moving in
front of her. Opened her eyes for just a second.

Tucker hissed as he held it five inches from her face. "Say it, bitch!"

"Fuck...you," she dropped her head, but her fingers pushed themselves deeper. 

He reached around and slapped at her panty-covered ass. "Say it!" 

"Fuck...fuck..." she muttered as she flinched away from him. Her
offhand went up to cover her eyes.

He moved around and reached under her and yanked her top up, exposing
one of her massive boobs. "I'm a fat ass bitch," he grinned as his
fingers reached into her bra and remained caught between fabric and
flesh. "Say it."

"I..." she started, then pulled away again, but not hard enough to
dislodge his hand. Her thighs pressed more firmly together and she
rose to her knees once again. "I'm..."

"That's it," he laughed as he yanked at the bra cup again, smiling and
kneading his hand into her as she fell free. He again wiggled himself
in front of her. "Go on...?" He noticed the fingers in front of her
face part just enough... "What are you?"

"Oh...God..." she moaned as she came again and fell forwards, her hand
instinctively lowering from her face to the carpet to brace herself.
She could feel him on her back now, his hands slipping down the back
of her pantyhose, then underneath her, freeing her other breast. Then
on the back of her neck. Then sliding down the crack of her ass. Then
on her nipples again. So many hands...

And it wouldn't go away. Why wouldn't it go away? She slid a third
finger inside herself...

"Say it," she heard him whisper in her ear. Felt him on her back. Felt
him running down her ass. Felt him grab a boob firmly and squeeze it
over and over and over... "Say it."

"I...I'm...I'm..." She dropped her head to the carpet. Closed her eyes
and ground her lids into the patterns. Tight as she could. Her ass
rose on its own. On its own. "I'm a fat ass bitch," she spat out the
words into the rug.

She felt him running between her thighs now, soaking up her wetness
and occasionally rubbing by her furious fingers. Back and forth. Then
he was in her ear again. "Louder."

"Oh, God..." her lips kissed the carpet. She was close again. Again.
Her legs opened wider on their own. On their own. "I'm a fat ass
bitch," she managed, between gasps.

Why wouldn't it go away? A fourth finger. Four. Her thumb reached for
her clit and couldn't miss. They were both about the same size now.
She felt him attack her other hole. "Fuck!" she tried to scream, but
her lips buried themselves deeper into the carpet instead.

"No, Miss Bitch, you're not just a fat ass bitch," she heard him laugh
as he pushed into her. "You're MY fat ass bitch!"

He slapped her ass hard again as he thrust. Then again. Harder. Her
ears heard the echoes as they bounced off one wall, then the other.
But she couldn't feel the pain at all anymore. It was totally lost in
the other. That wouldn't go away. Five years of frustration in the
bars and libraries, supermarkets and coffee shops, two different
churches -- it all came to the surface, through every inch of her
body, running up and down through every nerve until it settled in one
place.

And wouldn't go away. Her breasts pressed hard against the carpet and
her legs gave out, sending her stomach and thighs down to rest on the
rug as well. She barely felt him bounce up and down on top of her. All
she really felt was her four fingers and that which wouldn't go away.

Behind her, she heard Tucker give a final cry of pleasure, then fall
to the carpet somewhere far, far away. Her thighs rose up on their
own, bouncing her bone down against the carpet. And the four fingers.
Finally, mercifully, some part of her brain finally gave out, had
enough, cried uncle, shut down and her fingers stopped.

She rested there for a few moments, aftershocks rippling up and down
through her system. Her thumb once again, almost by accident, found
her clit and more a lamb than lion, it was over.

She felt the wetness on her cheek, gave one final cry, and then the
rest of her brain shut down.

_______________________


Brown hair. Brown eyes, and a nasty stare that could boil water. And a
voice to match.

"What the fuck you doin' in there, wit' those women, Joe Russell?!" 

The sweat trickled off his eyelid and into his eye and burned like a
mutherfucker.

Kind of like her voice. 

"Nothin' Baby Girl, nothin'!!!!" Joe shot up in the bed, instinctively
shoving the comatose woman off his chest. "Fuck!" His whole body
trembled as he looked around for his wife, his chest heaving and his
legs shaking. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness again.
"Fuuuuuuccccckkkk..." he whined, rubbing his eyes partly to get the
burning out, but mostly to erase that picture of her face.

He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief, when he caught the red
flash of the digital alarm clock out of the corner of his eye. "Oh,
fuckfuckfuckfuck... I'mdeadI'mdeadI'mdead..."

He slid his legs off the side of the bed and tried to stand up. And
promptly fell onto his knees between the two double beds as his legs
collapsed. Arms flailing, his right hand grabbed at the night stand
between the beds and caught a corner of it by sheer luck, which kept
him from hitting his head against the opposite bed. "Don't ever, and I
mean, EVER, do that again," he muttered as he pulled himself up off
the floor and propped himself up against the bed.

"Whatever the fuck it was you did...?" he blinked and looked around.
Little by little, the memories of the past hour or so came back to him
as he scanned the room.

His uniform shirt was hanging from one of the bedposts. His trousers
were over by the front door. His shorts were...nowhere to be seen. He
looked down with one eye to make sure it was still there. Touched it
tentatively. "Owowowowowow!!!" he howled in pain. Felt like that time
back in junior high when he stuck it in the business end of a vacuum
cleaner because Charlie Thomas said it was the bomb.

"Oh, no, Joe Russell, this is not happening." 

He looked at the two women. Debbie was blissfully snoring away, half
on and half off the bed. Heather was sprawled out on the carpet. One
of her hose had slipped out of her belt and was bunched up around one
knee. He sat on the unoccupied bed and put his hands in his head.
"Fuck, I am soooo fired."

Then one eye wandered over to the night stand again and noticed the
opened bottle of pills. "Hmm," he mused. Grabbed it and studied the
label. Then looked back at the two women. "Now that's some strong
fucking shit!" Shook out four pills and decided to hold on them to see
if they worked on angry wives...

Slowly standing back up, he took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Put
the bottle back on the night stand. Walked over to Heather and bent
down, picked her up and laid her in her bed. Pulled up the covers...

...and noticed the dried cum on her face. Did his best to wipe as much
of it away as he could. "Good thing they didn't ask for a DNA sample
for this job," he snickered to himself as he bent over to help Debbie
back into her bed. And started assembling his uniform.

"Now where the fuck did my damn shorts end up?"



Brad's eyes slowly opened. Then closed again. Three inches from his
face was the largest boob he'd ever seen. Well, except for that porn
site he visited last September, anyway.

He moved his head slightly, cautiously, just in case the boob had an
angry woman attached to it. He'd certainly run into his share of
those. When the boob didn't move, he decided to make a run for it,
make a dash for the emergency exit. If there ever was an emergency,
this was it.

But his legs wouldn't move. 

Still staring at that boob, he reached down slowly to pull up his
pants. Well, pull them sideways, anyway. By this time, he'd noticed
the boob had a buddy. He had sobered up sufficiently to remember that
was fairly normal. Unlike having legs that don't work.

Not waiting to see if he could buckle up his belt, he started
squirming on his elbows and knees and hands in an attempt to crawl to
the stairs. Being careful not to wake up the boob, of course. Under
normal circumstances, he would have rather stuck around and see what
kind of a woman the boob was attached to, but these weren't normal
circumstances. She was fat. And he was tired. And sore. And dreadfully
embarrassed.

He managed to crawl to the base of the door and reached up to pull
himself up by the door handle, all without disturbing the boob. Or the
young man laying on the other side of the boob. As he pulled open the
door and squeezed around it, he took one last look down the two limp
bodies laying at the end of the hallway. And shuddered.

Retrieving his camera, he slid down the stairs, one by one, then two
by two, and didn't stop until he was safely sitting on the ninth floor
landing. Only then did he attempt to stand up.

"No more Pabst for you, Brad," he muttered as he buckled his belt.


Jane Thomas opened one eye, then the other. Her arm rubbed slowly
along the carpet until her wristwatch was inches in front of her face.
It was easier than raising her head. "Fuck," she moaned. "No dream."

She'd only had one hangover before and that was way back in college.
Not for lack of trying, mind you, but it was just so damned hard for
her to get that drunk. She didn't remember it being like this. But
then, she couldn't remember drinking earlier tonight either. She tried
to rise, only to shudder in pain when her mound moved against the cool
carpet. Now, THAT was a hangover of a different sort.

That one she knew. 

"Fuck," she moaned again. "Just kill me now."

A minute later she focused on her watch again, and it gave her the
power to turn onto her back. "Twenty years in the business," she
mumbled. "Twenty years." She wondered how large her PTO severance
check would be. What other hotels in what other cities might be hiring
and experienced night manager. "Twenty years."

Rising to her knees, she noticed Tucker was still passed out a few
feet down the hallway. He hadn't even stepped out of his pants. Then
she looked at her own skirt laying there, cast aside sometime during
that horror. Her hose was totally ruined, her blouse torn in two
places.

But the camera was still there. Lying against the wall. She crawled
over to it on her hands and knees. Picked it up. Started to punch up
the photos, to erase them. Smash the video card. Smash the whole
camera.

Then she came to the one of her ass. 

Her fat ass, facing up into the light of the hallway, into the
built-in flash. Into the eyes of Tucker Simmons. She looked at the
picture one more time, then looked down at him laying there helpless
in the hallway. "I'm your fat-ass bitch," she muttered. "Or someone's
bitch." She smiled.

Picked up her skirt, her shoes. Cradled the camera tightly in her
bosom and reached for the stairway. To the fourth floor. Peeked out. A
short run to the exit to the housekeeping landing. Then to the service
elevators and to the lockers. With any luck, no one would see her.
With any luck.

"I'm certainly DUE some of that," she sighed.


Tucker Simmons shook his head. "Shit," he muttered, then louder when
he noticed the camera was gone. Then he rolled over on his back, and
remembered Jane Thomas' naked fat ass staring up at him. "Fuck it," he
laughed to himself, "who needs a picture?"

Closed his eyes. There it was, plain as day, with the voice to go
along with it. That same voice that reamed him every night about
something he needed or forgot to do. "I'm your fat-ass bitch!" He
turned onto his side and laughed some more. It helped take his mind
off of the fact that his cock hurt like hell every single time he
moved. Let her have the camera, he thought, it'll take a miracle to
get that memory out of my head.

Some things are worth getting fired over. He laughed again as he stood
up and pulled up his trousers.

Whistling merrily, he sauntered off down the hallway towards the elevators...



Johnny smiled as he threw his arm around the shoulder of his new best
friend to help him down the hallway to the suite. "Careful."

"'sokay..." Tom mumbled... "I'm okay."

"Man, Spring Break in this town is something else," the larger man
laughed as he inserted his keycard in the door and pushed it open. "Is
it always like this?"

"Huh?" Tom muttered as he started to slip on the tile floor of the entrance. 

Johnny slid an arm around his waist to prop him up. "Never mind," he
chuckled to himself as he maneuvered the drunken coed into his half of
the suite and sat him down on the side of the bed. "Stay here for a
sec," he said as he quickly walked over to check on Mandy.

"Hello," he said softly as he rapped on the bedroom door. "Hello?"

Not getting a response, he inched the door open and peered into the
room. Something inside him started to purr as he surveyed the scene.
He took a deep breath and reveled in the softness within. Slowly,
cautiously, he tiptoed across the room to the bed and stood over it.

"Nighty night, my little Aphrodite," he whispered under his breath as
he bent down and kissed Mandy gently on the forehead. Then he
carefully slid his hands down to the foot of the bed and slowly pulled
the down comforter up over the two naked bodies lying arm in arm,
blissfully drenched in each other's memories of the night.

Smiling, he stood there for another few moments. Just staring down.
Suddenly, Mandy's eyelids twitched for a moment and a slight moan
managed to escape.

"Damn, girlfriend, you even got impressive dreams..." Johnny mumbled.
Grabbing his hard-on through the front of his jeans, he hurried out of
her room and across to his.

__________________

The morning sunlight streamed through the cracks in the curtains and
it hurt her eyes. The least of her hurts. "Damn," Heather turned to
focus on the bottle of pills on the night stand and reached out an
arm. "What the hell...?" she started, then plopped back down in the
bed.

The alarm clock on the stand continued to buzz. "Fuck that," she
moaned and laid back down and closed her eyes. She could still see
Kurt inside he eyelids. "He's never gonna fucking believe this," she
muttered, trying to bring back the taste of him. "If I knew you tasted
this good," she smiled and licked her lips.

One bed over, Debbie was staring at her hands, trying her best to
remember the events of the night before. Her fingers slowly moved to
her pussy, through the finery surrounding it. "I know I shaved last
night," she said to herself. "Where did this fucking hair come from?"



Bubbles dreamt of kittens. Gray fluffy kitties. Black and white fuzzy
kitties. Yellow and orange stripy kitties. Wet kitties. Hot kitties.
Steamy kitties. Walking all over her body. Sliding against her
boobies, crawling between her legs...

"Wake up, silly," one of the kitties purred.

She reached out a hand to pet it. Opened her eyes. To find someone petting her.

"My eyelids hurt," she moaned as Mandy ran a soapy sponge across her
little neck, wiping away the last of the perspiration from the night's
activities. The slippery bubbles left behind from the sponge rose
slowly up and down her chest and arms in a warm and watery, crisscross
trail. The hum of the Jacuzzi's motor purred in her ears. She closed
her eyes again, basking in the hot comfort of all the kitties as they
licked their way up and down her back with their sandpapery tongues.

She slowly slid back into the water until it reached her neck.

"All right, you," Mandy chastised as she reached over to adjust the
nozzle on the handheld shower attachment. "Time for your hair."

Mandy hit a button on the side of the tub and the nozzle came to life,
shooting streams of hot water this way and that until she finally
gained control of it. Bubbles giggled as the sudden sound of rushing
water teased her into opening her eyes to take in the sight. Mandy was
sitting up in the midst of the hot rushing water, setting her aim...

"Yiyiyaiaiaiaia!" Bubbles jumped to get out of the path of the hot
spray as Mandy laughed and tracked her with the nozzle as she dove
from one side of the Jacuzzi to the other. "That's SOOOO not funny!"
She finally gave up and slid to the far side of the tub, turning away
from her friend as she sprayed her hair and back. Slowly, she felt the
spray grow more intense as Mandy inched the nozzle closer. Closer.
Bubbles brought her hands up to rub her eyes. "I, like, HATE getting
soap in my eyes."

She took a deep breath and held it as she felt the cool richness of
the gel being worked into scalp, fingers pressing their way down one
side of her head, then up the other until finally one hand rested on
her shoulder while the other teased at her earlobe. "I can't remember,
you know..." she said softly... "the last time anyone else washed my
hair."

"You mean you don't go to get it done every other day?" Mandy giggled.
"I can't imagine life without Johnny."

"Oh, geez, you mean he does hair TOO?!" Bubbles huffed. "I am SO jealous."

Mandy turned the nozzle on low and began to rinse out the lather.
"YOU'RE jealous? Hell, how many times did you cum last night?"

"Oh, that," Bubbles giggled. "I lost count." She started to turn
around, but felt Mandy's firm hand on her shoulder. "I've had tons of
practice..."

"I bet," Mandy laughed as she finally switched off the attachment and
placed it on the tile floor of the bathroom. "Have you ever, you know,
counted?"

Bubbles turned around and wrapped her hands around her hair and
started squeezing. "I tried once, but Bandy kept, like, making me lose
track." She grinned at Mandy. "But last night was the first time I
passed out!"

Mandy stared out at the sunlight streaming through the window. "Well,
last night was...pretty special for me too."

"Really?" Bubbles moved behind her and started playing with her hair. "Cool."

Mandy started to pull away, then hesitated for a moment, then turned
around to face her. "I..." she stammered, "I've never gone to bed
quite that...calm. I can't really explain it. I laid in bed for almost
a half hour just watching you sleep."

Bubbles just stared at her blankly. "Doesn't sound like much fun."

Mandy bent her head over and laid it on Bubble's shoulder. "I played
with myself," she whispered, nibbling on an ear. "It was, without a
doubt, the best orgasm I've had since...since the hospital."

"Wowwwwww..." Bubbles sat there, closed her eyes tightly and just took
in the sensation as Mandy's tongue lapped at her neck.

The older woman put her hand down to her own breast and touched a
nipple. "How...how do you feel?" It was a low whisper. Almost
inaudible.

"Truth?" 

"Of course."

"Like I want to go back to sleep," Bubbles smiled and slid back
further into the water. "Even my hair hurts."

Mandy dipped her finger down through the bubbly water and gently slid
it inside herself. "And now?"

Bubbles simply lay there, her back against the side of the tub. Her
eyelids closed.

"Oh, God..." Mandy moaned as she slid another finger inside. "Fuck,
yeah..." she laughed as she lightly bent down and kissed Bubbles on
the cheek.

"YES!" She turned violently in the Jacuzzi and threw herself back into
the water, her thighs parted wide and both hands splashing like a teen
experiencing her very first. "FUCK! YES!"

Bubbles simply lay there, oblivious to the (numerous) celebrations of
Amanda Tuck.

Dreaming of kitties.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+