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by Virtual Void |
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| Part 1 That look on the face of the concierge was priceless. When the three tour buses pulled up in front of the Gateway Plaza, he must have assumed it was a large group of conventioneers. Out-of-towners in good spirits were no doubt very big tippers. He came out of the hotel wearing his best welcoming smile. That smile collapsed instantly when he saw the hoard of drunken, screaming men in expensive suits that spilled out of the buses. They charged toward him as if he were the finish line of the New York City Marathon. The firm of J. T. Marlin was treating its stock brokers to a �field trip�, and they were all in the mood for a roaring evening of excess. Food, liquor, money, and sex. According to their philosophy, too much of a good thing just wasn't quite enough. The brokers bulled up the steps and into the hotel's elegant lobby. The disheartened concierge followed after them and gestured to the head of security. The other man nodded and spoke glumly into his walkie-talkie. Porters and bellboys assumed defensive postures against the marble walls. The brokers, if they noticed the reaction of the staff, were absolutely untouched by it. They were young, connected, and obscenely rich. They were entitled to make their own rules. Like a herd of buffalo, they piled into their reserved conference room and assaulted the buffet table. Fresh Chilean grapes, wedges of ripe British cheese, smoked Norwegian salmon, and miniature medaillons de boeuf were slopped onto small china plates. Much of the food landed on the floor and was trampled underfoot. Most of the brokers ignored the rows of Sonoma Valley Cabernet Sauvignon and chilled Pouilly-Fuiss�. Instead, they snatched bottles of single-malt scotch and 10-year-old bourbon from the hands of bewildered bartenders and splashed generous helpings in the direction of crystal tumblers, linen tablecloths, and sometimes their own virgin-wool suits. Chris Varick, one of J. T. Marlin's most successful senior brokers, bypassed the scrum in front of the liquor bottles and picked up a cold beer at the other end of the bar. The spirit and practice of camaraderie were principles that the firm's management constantly reinforced, and Chris was very much on board. Still, there were times when he would rather be at home with a tin of beer nuts and a full card at Aqueduct on cable TV. In a lot of ways, Chris was still the same scruffy slacker he'd been in his senior year at Stuyvesant High. Sure he �worked� long hours now, but his �work� mainly involved conning gullible marks and pocketing their cash. He'd pulled a few stunts like that at Stuy, but the payoff had only been a bit of fun. Kicks. At J. T. Marlin, the scams had made him a millionaire at the age of 28. �All right, everybody quiet down for a second!� The company's founder, Michael Brantley, had stepped onto a coffee table and was addressing his team. Gradually, the riot settled down to a shuffle, and Michael continued. In bullets, he ticked off the company's latest triumphs against the National Association of Securities Dealers. The NASD's challenges to J. T. Marlin's legitimacy had fallen flat, and J. T. Marlin was once again authorized to trade. That news elicited a roar of hurrahs that took a long time to die down. Michael thanked them all for their dedication to the company through tough times. �And just to show you how appreciative I am....� Those words tripped off another explosion of cheers. The brokers had obviously heard the words before and understood what was coming. �I want you guys to go up to the Hudson Room on the fourth floor.� There was a round of applause, and Michael smiled slyly. �I hand-picked them myself.� A burst of laughter and scattered applause. The brokers turned and pressed towards the exit, drinks held high to avoid spillage. �But first...,� Michael continued. Groans and a couple of comical boos came from the crowd as they stopped and turned. �Before you go, I want to give my special thanks to the top salesman of the quarter. Chris Varick!� Chris hid his face for a moment in mock shyness, then blew kisses to the cheering crowd. A broker with black, curly hair standing near Chris emptied a bowl of pretzel sticks over his head. Everyone roared with laughter, including Chris. �For Chris,� Michael said. �I've got something even better than sex.� �Oooooo!� said the crowd. �That's right...money!� Michael said with a grin. He held a green and gold certificate up over his head. �Ten thousand shares of Med-Patent IPO, to sell whenever you feel the urge.� Chris looked genuinely stunned. This was incredible generosity, even for Michael. If Chris unloaded this stock at the right moment, he could buy himself a summer cottage in upstate New York. Worst case, he could get himself a second Ferrari for when his first was having its tires rotated. He staggered forward and accepted the certificate from Michael. �Michael, I don't know what to say.� Michael smiled and clapped him hard on the shoulder. �I think you've earned it.� * * * * * The Hudson Room. Chris took one look around, then laughed loudly with a deep feeling of delight. The Hudson Room was an intimate lounge and wet bar with a dusky, neutral ambiance. Anyone who rented the room could decorate it to create whatever mood he desired. Tonight it looked like a cross between an expensive strip club and a velvet bordello. Michael had gone a bit over the top here, but he was probably trying to make up for the last field trip's �special treat�. That time, Michael had only sprung for a single suite and two sorry-ass hookers. They looked like death warmed over by the time Chris was close enough in line to see their faces. His heart had not been in it, and he'd really wanted to split, but the bottom line was he had an image to uphold in front of the guys. And besides, it was Michael's nickel. But this! Now, this is more like it! The women were gorgeous. There must have been a dozen of them. Michael had gone for variety, too. It didn't matter whether your taste ran to blondes, brunettes, or redheads-Michael had you covered. These were upscale girls, too, judging from the quality of the lingerie and the smoothness of their body language. Chris caught sight of a girl in a leather bustier, a wisp of black panties, and a very interesting tattoo. Oh, Honey, you are crying out to my soul! Before Chris had taken two steps toward her, his eyes focused farther to take in a young woman who had just entered the room. She was wearing a satiny lilac raincoat that was short enough to reveal every inch of her sleek, brown legs. She clutched the raincoat tightly to her bosom, making cleavage between her smallish breasts. She searched the faces in the room with sultry, brown eyes. Her mouth was wide and her lips were full. She had the kind of face that always reminded Chris of.... Holy Mother of God! She found Chris' eyes, smirked, and immediately turned away. Chris spun around and started walking. He needed to collect his thoughts. The room seemed very loud all of a sudden. Chris was unable to concentrate. Some of the brokers were dancing with their hands on call-girls' rears. Others were sitting on couches, laughing, as strippers jiggled G-strings an inch away from their faces. Chris recalled that he had spilled cocktail sauce on his tie and, for some reason, that thought made him blush. It really is her! But what the fuck is she doing here? * * * * * Just ten years ago, Chris had been a hot shot senior at Stuyvesant High. He'd never had any trouble getting girls in the sack, but Maria Lopez was different. He must have hit on her 2 or 3 times a week all throughout the year, but he never managed to break through her shell. It got to the point where every time he swung and missed, he'd hear Maria and her girlfriends giggling behind his back. Why the fuck did he keep on trying? Why did he even care? Maria's constant put-downs had started to take some shine off his bad boy image. Shit. She was just so... elegant. Chris had been a third-string guard on the Running Rebels that year. He never mastered a wicked jump shot-hell, he usually botched at least one out of every three lay-ups. It would have helped if he'd actually worked at improving, but that just hadn't been his style. Maria had been a cheerleader and she looked so fine in that little blue-and-white outfit! On more than one occasion, Chris had caught a basketball with his ear because he was on the beach in Jamaica with Maria. The other players weren't any stronger than Chris, but they were quicker and they knew how to move. At least once a game, Chris found himself knocked on his ass in forecourt, watching the defending guard spin off a one-on-none for an easy two points. Chris would look over at Maria on the sidelines, and he could swear she was snickering. Why the fuck did he care? After graduation, Chris had never heard any news of Maria. They had come from two separate worlds and they had no common friends. Chris had resigned himself to never seeing Maria again. * * * * * Now here she is. But why? Chris took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Of course he would talk to her, but what would he say? It would have to be good. This might be the last chance he'd ever have to impress Maria Lopez. He had to be funny. He had to be original. He knew he was capable-he just had to relax. Chris touched the breast of his jacket and felt the folded Med-Patent certificate in the inner pocket. It was a reminder that he was powerful, successful, and rich. Women could not resist him. Repeat. Women can not resist me. Chris walked toward Maria. Other brokers passed by her, giving her quizzical looks. They probably weren't sure whether she was a hooker or somebody's pissed-off squeeze. Maria saw Chris approaching. She grinned and shook her head slightly. Chris smiled with teeth and tried to put just the right amount of swagger in his step. He was scared as motherfucking hell. The two faced each other. Maria was waiting for him to speak. �Maria Lopez,� Chris said slowly, tasting every syllable. �You are so much sexier than the other call girls in this room.� Maria's eyes sparked. She wound up and slapped Chris hard across the cheek. A broker standing a few feet away flinched and nearly lost his eyeglasses. Everyone hushed and turned their attention to this curious spat. Before Chris could shut his mouth, Maria reached up and pulled him down into a deep, exotic kiss. Though stunned, Chris melted voluptuously into the kiss. He felt weak. Maria's perfume was captivating. He felt her hair against his stinging cheek-the press of her body against his chest. Her tongue was rekindling all the lust he had felt for her back when he was a hormone-charged 18-year-old boy. Maria stepped back and flipped aside a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eye. She leaned forward to murmur in Chris' ear. �I am not a call girl. I am not a hooker. My name is Maria Alicia Lopez. Here is my card.� From the pocket of her raincoat, Maria withdrew a hotel card key and snapped it into Chris' palm. Clutching her raincoat closed with one hand, Maria grabbed Chris' tie with her other. She led him out of the Hudson Room like a debutante leading her stallion out of the stable. The brokers and call girls alike erupted into a sustained, encouraging cheer. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Part 2 Once outside the Hudson Room, Maria let go of Chris' tie. She was still holding her raincoat closed with one hand. �Maria, what are you doing here?� Chris said with muted frenzy. �I mean, I don't see you for 10 years, then all of a sudden-� Maria shushed him. She took his fingers in her delicate hand and touched them to her full, moist lips. She licked his index finger slowly with the side of her hot tongue. Chris was hypnotized. He was only vaguely aware of the sound of an elevator door opening in the distance behind him. He heard the clatter of a room service cart being pushed out of the elevator. There was a soft rattle of dishes and a slight squeak of wheels as the cart rolled toward them down the carpeted hall. �God, Maria,� Chris breathed. Maria slipped Chris' hand inside her raincoat. She smiled at Chris' little gasp when she pressed his fingertips into the deliciously yielding top of her breast. The room service cart was getting very close. Chris leaned in to kiss Maria, but she said, �No,� and Chris obeyed. �Maria,� Chris said. There was a note of wonderment in his voice. The cart rattled past them, and Chris saw that it was being pushed by a frail old clerk with white hair and suddenly enormous eyes. Without slowing down or speeding up, he continued on his way. Maria withdrew Chris' hand and kissed it once. �Do I have your attention now?� she asked. Chris breathed in deeply and sighed. �Well, I don't know about me, but you sure got his attention.� He nodded in the direction of the receding clerk. Maria sputtered into a giggle. Chris relaxed and smiled. Maybe Maria was just as nervous about all of this as he was. Maria's lapse of composure did not last long, though. She bowed her head as if she were a method actor getting into character. When she lifted her eyes to Chris, she was again cool and in command. �We need privacy,� she said with a touch of ice. She turned and started toward their room. Chris followed. * * * * * Most hotels offered clean, utilitarian rooms with functional TVs, plenty of towels, and hard beds with mass-produced headboards. The hotels were profitable because they were well-located and their staffs were reasonably polite. The Gateway Plaza had made it their mission to surpass the norm. This room was beautiful. The two-tone walls were beige and eggshell blue. The furniture was heavy and oaken. The thick, blue carpet just begged for naked feet. The management had placed a basket of fruit on the coffee table. There was even a bottle of white wine chilling in a copper bucket. The room was dominated by a massive four poster bed. Chris sat down on the bed with a little bounce. �Well, if you're not gonna tell me why you're here,� he said, �guess I'll just relax and enjoy the ride.� Maria stood with her arms folded, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. �Aw, c'mon, Maria.� Chris patted the mattress. �Come over here and let's catch up on some old times.� The tiny sound Maria made, Chris decided, must have been a snort. �Well, at least let me see what's under that raincoat, Honey. I am just dying of curiosity.� Maria stared at a Chris a long moment before replying. �What ever gave you the idea of pretending to be a basketball player?� she asked, � propos of nothing. �You know you were an embarrassment to the entire school.� Chris leaned back on the bed, shook his head, and smiled. �I know. I never could play worth shit. Those were the days.� �I'm serious. Everyone made fun of you.� �Yeah, what do kids know.� Chris chuckled, then arched an eyebrow. �Well, I guess I did know you looked pretty damned hot as a cheerleader. Still got nice legs, too. Shit!� Maria moved up to Chris until her leg was touching his. She clutched her raincoat more tightly around her. �You're a cretin,� she said with a little pout. �Damn it!� Chris slapped his forehead. �I left my fucking dictionary at the opera. Did you just insult me or should I thank you for being kind?� �Both,� Maria said, rubbing gently against Chris' leg. Chris stroked Maria's bare leg with the back of his fingers. �Hey, I flunked out of mind fuck, Sugar� he said with a twinkle in his eye. �Now listen, you got me turned on, and I'm starting to hurt like hell. Are you gonna lose that fucking raincoat or are they gonna have to haul me out of here on a stretcher?� Maria was silent for a moment. Then, she sighed and slowly opened her raincoat. Chris' cell phone rang. �Damn it!� Chris said. �Every fucking time!� He took the phone from his inner pocket and flipped it open. �Varick here. How can I help?� Maria backed away and leaned up against a tall dresser. �No, no, no, that's bullshit!� Chris said, gesturing with his free hand. �Who's your broker, here, Charles? Who you gonna believe? Let that guy take his own fucking advice. He's gonna be wiping bird shit off your Fer-ra-ri at a stoplight some day!� Chris became aware that Maria was staring at him ominously. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, �It's not my fault!� �Ok, now you're talking like a winner,� he said. �Uh-huh, ok. Sure thing. Now, you take care of yourself. Yeah, you too.� Chris snapped the cell phone closed. �Airhead,� he said. �Stock drops two points and he crawls under the couch.� He looked at Maria, who was still glaring at him. �Ok, ok, I'm sorry!� he said, turning up his palms. �I guess I'm just always on. These people are my bread and butter. But it will not happen again.� Chris set the phone on the night stand. �Now, c'mon back here.� Maria kicked off her flats, walked over to Chris, and straddled his thighs. Chris' heart jumped when he felt the warmth between her legs. He hadn't expected his apology to be such an immediate success. Maria opened her raincoat and let it fall halfway down her back. She was wearing a white satin bra with pale pink hearts. She began rocking gently, forward and back, massaging herself against Chris' thigh. Chris held Maria's hips through the bunched fabric of her raincoat. Looking into the sweet face of his high-school fantasy, he felt an unaccustomed wash of humility. There was another emotion in the mix, as well. He thought it might be tenderness. Chris remembered that he needed to breathe. His pulse was suddenly pounding in his throat and temples. Maria tipped her head forward and her long hair caressed both of Chris' cheeks. Her breath was hot and humid against his forehead. After several deep breaths, she leaned away with a slight arch to her back. Chris took the lapels of the raincoat in his large hands and exposed more of Maria's skin. Maria removed the coat completely and tossed it at the foot of the bed. Chris was startled by the light thump of something heavy hitting the bedpost. Maria took his face in both hands and refocused his attention with a long, complex kiss. She arched back once more. She was wearing a tiny pair of bikini panties that matched her bra. There was a pearl button sewn into the hem. Chris watched the muscles of Maria's abdomen undulate as she rubbed against him. He put his hand against her belly below her navel, his thumb pressing against her mons. Maria closed her eyes and parted her lips. She took Chris' hand and moved it lower until he cupped her mons in his palm. Chris could see the shape of her nipples through the thin material of her bra. The rhythm of Maria's movements began to slow. Just as Chris was about to protest, Maria backed away and stood up. She adjusted her bra strap and said, �I need you naked.� It was a simple statement. Chris took a deep breath and tried to get his heart rate under control. Then he laughed, clapped once, and rubbed his hands together in glee. �Damn, girl, I like your style!� He stood up and unknotted his necktie. After gently draping her raincoat over the back of the desk chair, Maria took Chris' place on the bed. She leaned back on her elbows and watched. Chris tossed his shirt and undershirt onto an arm chair. At times like this, he wished he could make more time in his life for racquetball. Still, he knew he was in damned good shape for a desk jockey. He unhitched his belt and removed his trousers. Maria wiggled her toes. Chris hooked his thumbs into his boxer shorts and started to push them down. But then he stopped and looked at Maria. �Hey, looks like I'm getting ahead of you here. You need any help undressing?� Maria slid off the bed, spun behind one of the tall bedposts and leaned up against it. �I need you naked,� she said. �Now.� The expression on her face was mysterious. She was not smiling, yet there was a fiery passion in her eyes. Her rapid breathing conveyed excitement, yet she seemed completely in control. Chris himself found that he was aroused beyond belief. Here he was, alone with the once unattainable goddess of all his high school daydreams. He was probably only moments away from attaining the intimacy that had both obsessed and eluded him in those days. As if that weren't enough, Maria's air of serene authority was a new experience for him. Most of the women he encountered were superficial and ultimately boring. Come to think of it, he probably actively avoided women who were not superficial and boring. When Chris needed company, all he wanted was a well-made woman he could impress with his expensive clothes, jazzy sports car, and his easy way with cash. If she got smart or cranky, he'd just call her a cab and get on with his life. But Maria was different. She was intelligent and challenging. For some reason, Chris did not turn his back on the challenge. He found that he actually cared about Maria's opinion of him. What he felt now, he realized, was exactly the way he'd felt in high school. Maria Lopez had always been different. A thought occurred to Chris. His feelings for Maria made him, at least on some level-at least potentially-vulnerable! Chris fought down a shudder. �The lady wants me naked,� he said. �And I want to be naked for the lady.� He removed his shorts and tossed them aside. Maria moved out from behind the bed post and leaned back against it. She studied Chris' erect penis. Chris was certain he was not a disappointment. He moved to kiss Maria, but Maria stopped him with one hand. Her polished red fingernails pressed into the skin of his chest. �I make the rules,� she said in a voice just above a whisper. �And you obey them.� Using one finger of her other hand, Maria teased Chris' penis with a feathery stroke. Chris was finding it difficult to catch his breath. Fierce desire and frustration played across his face. �You're impulsive and spoiled,� Maria continued. �You have no respect for people. You need to be disciplined.� Chris closed his eyes and inhaled Maria's perfume. Her tantalizing touch was sending flashes of pleasure through his body like sheet lightning. Maria moved away and Chris almost fell forward. Maria walked over to the arm chair and fished out the silk necktie from the pile of clothes. She held it taught like a garrote and stood in front of Chris. Chris smiled. Maria was so cute. She looked like a month-old kitten trying to intimidate a full-grown bulldog. �Cross your wrists,� she said. �So what are you gonna do, tie me up?� Maria didn't speak. She didn't move. She waited. �Aw, shit, Maria.� _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Part 3 �You know I could get loose if I wanted to,� Chris said from his horizontal position. Standing next to him, Maria dragged her fingernails lightly across Chris' nipples. �But you don't want to, do you?� Chris was stretched out naked on the bed. Maria had tied his wrists to one bedpost with his silk necktie. His legs were crossed at the ankles and tied to the diagonally opposite bedpost. To bind his feet, Maria had used the cloth belt from her raincoat. Chris swallowed, feeling his nipples go erect at Maria's touch. �I'm ok for now,� he said. �Damn, that feels good.� He tried to sound cool, but he couldn't keep his voice from wavering just a bit. Maria moved her fingers across Chris' body in an almost imaginary caress. She avoided his sex, but she did stroke his arms, his solar plexus, and his thighs. Chris closed his eyes. He felt chills shimmer into goose bumps, then echo back to his groin, tightening his erection. He tried to push against Maria's hand, but she would not allow it. She continued to tease him with her wicked, ethereal touch. �Maria,� he breathed. He heard a soft movement of fabric and opened his eyes to see Maria removing her bra. Her breasts were small enough that his hands would cover them completely. Her areolas were small, too-smaller even than the width of his thumb. Chris flexed his fingers and twisted his wrists against the restraints. �I really could get loose if I wanted to.� Bending over Chris, Maria took his farther nipple into her mouth. She swept her forearm down to press against the base of his erect penis. Chris closed his eyes and surrendered to the perfect, maddening rhythm of Maria's mouth. The light tickle of her hair against his chest, the sweetness of her perfume, and the wet lap of her relentless tongue were combining to fill his senses to the point of overflowing. Maria moved up to Chris' mouth, brushing her breasts across his chest. At the same time, she moved her hand down to rest it against the highest point of his inner thigh. She traced the outline of Chris' lips with the tip of her tongue. Chris could not suppress a shiver of delight. He felt his face grow very hot. Maria touched cheeks with Chris and apparently felt his fever. �Poor boy,� she said, her voice dripping with playful compassion. �This must be torture for you.� �Well, something like that.� Chris' voice was hoarse. Maria set a desk chair near the head of the bed. She dipped a linen napkin into the ice water of the wine chilling bucket and touched it to Chris' forehead and temple. �Feeling better yet?� she asked after a minute. Chris gulped and kissed Maria's wrist. �Not nearly as good as I want to feel,� he said. �Maria, how about you just-� Maria touched the napkin to Chris' lips, silencing him. Then she dipped the napkin once more into the ice water and dabbed Chris' temple. �You were a terrible basketball player in high school, but I suppose I did like watching your scrawny little behind in those shorts.� Chris twisted his neck around to look at her. She seemed to be staring through him-lost in reverie. �You... you liked.... How come you'd never go out with me?� The softness of memory dissipated from Maria's face like mist being burned off by the sun. �As I said, you have no respect for people.� �Aw, sure I do, Maria. I've always been a-" "No. You don't.� Maria pressed the wet napkin a little too hard against Chris' forehead. A trickle of ice water found his eye and made him blink. �You use people. You always have. If I'd accepted a date with you, I would have been just another trophy for you to brag about to your friends.� �No way, Maria, I would never-� �Yes. You would.� Chris was beginning to feel very confused. Maria's eyes glistened with nascent tears. �It's easy to lie to everyone once you've mastered the skill of lying to yourself.� �Well...,� Chris said, searching. He was not at all sure where this was headed. Careful with every word, he continued. �I guess I may have been a little immature back then.� �Back then! You make it sound as if you'd grown up to be a saint.� Chris moved his jaw from side to side, thinking. �Well, we haven't seen each other for 10 years.� Maria gritted her teeth at Chris. A tear fell down her cheek. �I guess you really don't have a clue about all of this, do you?� Chris squinted his eyes at the ceiling. �Um,� he said. �No.� Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Chris looked at Maria and said, �If you don't really think I'm your type of guy then why are we-� �You mean, why have I got you tied down and helpless?� She was smiling through her tears. Chris looked back up at the ceiling, reassessing the situation. �Um,� he said. �Yeah.� �One reason.� Maria leaned forward to whisper in Chris' ear. �Hector Garcia Lopez.� There was a long moment of silence punctuated only by Maria's quiet, occasional sobs. The name meant nothing to Chris. He tried to imagine who this Hector Lopez might be, and how he might be the cause of Maria's bizarre behavior. In a low voice, Chris said, �Look, I swear I don't know anything about this Hector guy.� Maria laughed sharply. �What kind of a broker are you? You don't even recognize the name of your own client!� �Ah.� Chris swallowed. �Oh.� He still did not remember the name. He'd had hundreds of clients over the years. There was a possibility he had forgotten, but he really didn't think so. Could this have been an account procured by one of his trainees? Maybe. But, even then, Chris believed he would recognize the name. Maria was sobbing more loudly. Chris stared at the ceiling and shook his head. �Look, Honey, I think you've got me confused with someone else.� �Oh, no. There is no confusion.� She was crying freely now. Chris saw her reach into the pocket of her raincoat. She took out a large Swiss Army knife with the price tag still dangling on a string. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Maria picked at the price tag, trying to unknot it. Chris closed his eyes tightly and tried to think. ----------------- TBC |
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