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Sleeping Ducks
© 2001 by J.D.  Coltrane



Her new dress fit her nicely and she knew it.  It was long and black and sleek.  She wore only perfume underneath it.  The feel of it, almost being naked in a room full of tuxedoed men and decked out women, the feel of it made her damp and tingly.

The dinner had been okay, not good, just okay, but the wine was well chosen for such a large crowd.  The speakers had droned on, their jokes and stories dovetailed neatly and were packaged appropriately as simply not memorable.

So she sat naked beneath her new shiny black dress wondering if her husband would be awake when she called home from her room.

Her co-workers milled around her, some of them making plans for a drink on Beale Street.  Julie wanted to go to B.B.  King's club.  Others wanted to avoid the crowd and look for a smaller out-of-the-way place.  She didn't want to go, feeling like she'd rather be alone, or at least away from them for a while, so she said her goodnights and eased from the banquet room into the hall.  She walked slowly toward the lobby and the elevators, considering a drink in the bar, thinking of the piano music, perhaps another glass of wine.  She saw him then.

Deja vu is an odd feeling, she'd always thought, but she did somehow feel she'd seen him, that man, standing there leaning against a column in the lobby just like he was at that moment.  He wasn't there for the conference, she could tell that.  He wore jeans and a linen jacket over a black t-shirt.  He looked at her directly, maybe sensing or feeling her studying him, and he smiled at her.  For reasons she didn't understand, she stopped in front of him and smiled back.

"Do I know you?" she asked, still smiling.

"No, I don't think so," he answered in a voice she thought she knew, "But would you like to?"

An odd reply, she thought, holding his eyes, his gaze. "Perhaps," was all she said.

"Then stay right here."

He walked to the lobby bar and bought two glasses of chardonnay.  She watched him sign the charge to a room and it made her smile and blush when she realized what she'd thought.  He came back to her and handed her the glass of wine without speaking.

"Have you ever been on the roof, where the ducks are kept?" he asked.

"No," she lied for some reason.

"I was just going to go up, would you like to come?"

"I'd like that," she told him, thinking only for a moment about the double meaning.

They walked together into the elevator and waited quietly as it carried them up to the roof.  Obviously, she thought to herself, he knows of the ducks and their residency in the hotel.  I wonder, she thought, if he's seen them march to the fountain in the lobby.  She made a mental note to ask him but forgot it when she felt his body against hers, his hip against her hip, pressing there, not moving in the empty elevator they shared.

The ride ended and their hips separated as they stepped onto the roof and took in the lights of the city and the sky.  The humid feel of the river so near them hung in the summer night air.  He walked casually to the duck house, surrounded by a fence, and stood there looking.

"They're asleep, I guess."

"Yes," she answered.

"In the lobby," he began without looking at her, "Did you feel something when you saw me?"

She didn't know how to answer, so she didn't.

"Did you feel like we knew each other and that we were lovers?"

Again, she didn't answer.

He turned to her then, smiling into her eyes until she smiled back without thinking.  He took her wine glass and set both of them on the park bench situated near the duck house.  She was in his arms before she realized how, his lips on her neck, his hands low on the small of her back feeling no lines of clothing under her dress.

She closed her eyes as his kiss moved to her ear.  The feel of his cock hard inside his jeans was electric, his hardness pressed against her stomach, low, just above her pubis.  His mouth found hers and they kissed as his hands moved down to cup her ass through her dress.  He drew her to him pressing his cock into her without any subtlety at all.

"Turn around and bend over," he whispered to her.

And she did.  Slowly, but without any hesitation.  She bent at the waist and rested her hands on the seat of the park bench where the wine glasses still sat.  She could feel him moving behind her, moving down, she felt, until he was kneeling behind her.  His hands moved up her legs, pushing her dress up, gliding it easily up her thigh high stockings, over the smooth skin of her thigh, up and over her naked ass until she was exposed to him there on the roof.

He reached for the wine glasses and took them both.  She moved her feet to spread them more as he began to pour the wine down the crack of her ass, letting the liquid pass slowly over her, letting her pussy feel the cool kissing touch of the wine.  When he leaned into her to lick the wine from her, the touch of his tongue sent a shiver of a hint, a shiver of an orgasm close within in her.

She did come when his tongue entered her.  And he held her hips in his hands, pressing his face deeper between her legs, pressing his tongue deeper inside her, his chin hard against her clit.

As she drew in a breath and asked herself how all this had happened, he ran his tongue upward over her tight anus, licking the last of the wine from her there before he moved to stand.  Her dress fell from where it had been gathered at her waist as she straightened to stand as well.  He held her then from behind.  Tightly.  Quietly.  And he kissed her neck as the ducks slept undisturbed.  For her it felt as if it all had happened before.  Odd, she thought, very odd.

The traffic on the streets below them made muted irregular sounds as they moved back toward the elevator together.  She felt she knew how the night would end, but she wasn't sure so she kept an open mind.

copyright, 2000 J.D.  Coltrane.  All rights reserved.

Authors live for feedback!
If you enjoyed this story, send comments to
J.D. Coltrane

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