Samantha nodded at the hotel clerk. “Thank you.” She picked up both key cards and went to turn.
“Forgive me, ma’am,” the clerk prefaced. “You look so familiar.”
She tried not to roll her eyes at the expected line that would follow. It was hard to say if she succeeded or not.
The young bald man in the uniform olive suite and tie snapped his fingers. “I know. Portia de Rossi.”
“I get that a lot.”
“I bet, it is uncanny.”
“Except she’s blonde.”
His mouth dropped open, but the normal apology was silent.
“But yes, were Portia brunette, not Australian, and not married to Ellen…well, she might just be checking into some tiny motor inn in Erie, Pennsylvania.”
“She’s married to Ellen?”
Samantha chuckled and nodded.
“She’s a lez…”
“Disappointed, soldier?” The chuckle turned to chortles.
His green eyes searched her for the correct answer. Realizing the joking look on her face, he found the strength to offer an honest one. “Hell no.”
Samantha laughed outright and walked out of the check-in cabin with her suitcase in tow.
The air of this October weekend was brisk. A few trees on the property had already begun to turn from green to orange.
Her heels clacked as she marched across the parking lot to her cabin door. Samantha always left her car near the check in with the thought of it being safer when someone would be awake near by.
The room was small, but solid. Two double beds covered in satin-looking orange spreads took up most of the floor space.
One for sleeping and one for playing, she thought with a grin.
At the foot of the bed was a small nondescript low red oak dresser with a flat screen television that looked eerily out-of-place with the old-fashioned nature of the place. The walls were done up in a dark walnut paneling that had not been in fashion since the summer Bryan Adams sang about.
She chuckled again as the song crossed her mind. She always figured the song name had little to do with the year and more to do with the over rated activity that looked great in porn.
The bathroom was, however, shockingly modern. White tile and completely new white fixtures. The overhead light was motion sensitive even.
She sat her bag on the floor beside the dresser before sitting on the foot of the bed. Kicking off her sneakers, she stood again to get the remote and flipped the TV to life before sitting again.
Typical late afternoon television fodder.
She flipped channels until finding Anderson Cooper interviewing Bruce Willis about the upcoming fifth Die Hard film. She listened and salivated for a few minutes. At one particularly delicious smile she whispered, “damn right I’m disappointed.” Her hand absently played with the gold band around one finger.
Her daydream was interrupted by the chirp of her phone calling for attention from her bag.
Quickly fishing it from the bag she called up the text message.
“Just landed. T.”
She had trouble containing the smile. Lifting the bag up onto the bed, she opened it and pulled out her black skirt and stockings. Her white blouse was untucked as she pulled off her blue jeans and panties. They were replaced by the skirt. Sitting on the foot of the bed, she pulled off her white ankle socks and slipped the stockings on, each up to mid-thigh. Checking in the mirror, the skirt hung to just above her knees. Putting her bag back in its original locale, she returned to her perch on the foot of the bed.
Half an hour later, the phone chirped again.
“Sorry. Long time getting bag in cab now. Ten mins. T.”
Her fingers flew across the phone keys and texted back, “Cabin #5”
The response was quick. “Get ready. Love you.”
Samantha had her orders. TV was turned off. One bedside lamp was turned on and all others off. Finally, she went to the front door and opened it. She flipped across the safety latch to hold the door open just an inch. Finally, she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.
Her smile grew upon hearing first the crackle of tires on the pavement outside the door followed by the bong bong bong of the insistent computer warning the operator of a door being open.
The next noise was the door closing followed by some slight rustling.
She remained still with hands folded across her tummy and ankles crossed. She did have difficulty not jumping when she felt his large hands grasp her ankles and spread them. She was surprised to not have heard him closer.
Then the hands were pushing her skirt up and slowly between her thighs. The bed shifted beneath her from the weight of a second body just before his warm breath was on her pussy. She struggled not to make a sound…orders were orders. When the tongue hit, however, the difficulty increased ten-fold.
After a number of minutes, the tongue was pulled back and the second body was on top of her. “Open your eyes,” Todd’s voice invited.
Their blue eyes finally met just before their lips.
Samantha was tasting his tongue and her own familiar taste. She wrapped her arms tightly around his bare shoulders and then wrapped her legs around his bare waist.
The couple did not dress for the next two days. Samantha had brought enough food and drinks to cover breakfast and lunches, and two pizza delivery drivers went away with grins when, under orders, Samantha had greeted them both naked…and neither driver had complained. She had also become quite acquainted with the beauty of Todd’s eyes and the veins in his cock which had been traced many times with her tongue.
Saturday was laughs and tickles. Sunday was spent playing drinking games with NFL games…a body shot for every touchdown.
As Monday morning rolled around, Samantha awoke to Todd already dressed and nearly packed.
He knelt beside her and gave a deep kiss. His voice was a whisper, “You can get dressed now.”
She giggled and playfully slapped his cheek.
“I have to get to the airport. Need to go rebuild the igloo.” A quick wink.
She grabbed his black tie and pulled him close for one more kiss. “I love you.”
In his best Harrison Ford impersonation he responded, “I know.” He picked up his passport from the bedside table and was gone.
By the time Samantha was showered, dressed, packed and on the road, it was still only six-thirty in the morning. A Barenaked Ladies tune came on the Ford Escape stereo that renewed her smile.
“…and Gretta got an eye lift…”
The next two hours were spent driving west along I-90 until finally exiting north onto Martin Luther King Jr. Drive and passing through yellow and brown leaves on either side of the road. A round-a-bout run onto eastbound East Blvd. before turning north again and finally getting to Euclid Ave. where the buildings of the hospital took out the greenery.
For the uninitiated, parking was a severe problem at University Hospital, but Samantha was a regular and quickly found a spot in one of the cement structures. As she stepped out of the car with her stiletto boots clicking and her black dress swaying at her ankles, she made her way inside to long term care.
Walking confidently in to room 242 where she found him sleeping. She grimaced and her shoulders sank at the bong bong bong of the heart monitor. Sitting on the bed beside him, she snuggled into his shoulder.
Bill was nudged awake and slipped his arm around her. “You made it.” His beige hospital gown was near see through.
She looked into his near white, once blue, eyes. Not a single hair was left on his head and very little meat on his face. “Of course I did.”
He kissed her forehead and hugged her tight.
She snuggled in harder, but still thoughtful of not wanting to hurt him.
“Did you see Todd?”
She smiled and kissed him. “Of course.”
His smile increased to a toothy grin. “He made you cum?”
Her eyebrows shot skyward in exhilaration. “Many times.”
“Good girl. Now, be a good wife and help me find the TV remote, would you.”
She quickly found the remote under his pillow.
“Thank you, my love,” he whispered and stole a quick kiss. “So, did you see Todd?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
“He made you cum?”
Her face fell with the realization that her reality had just changed. “Many times,” she whispered and felt water at the corners of her eyes.
“Good girl. I should meet him sometime. I want to approve the man who will take care of you when I’m gone.”