One Autumn Evening
Jojo Offerman as Alex
The wind wailed on outside Brooklyn's Wythe Hotel, causing the trees surrounding it to sway dangerously, a medley of orange, red, and yellow leaves caught up in the aerial whirlpool. Alex looked on into the steady darkening street as she finished the rest of her Tom Collins. There was one perk of working at her father's hotel; She got to have a drink on the job every now and then. And anyone who dealt with her father on a regular basis would be driven to drink anyways.
Alex glanced at the time on her watch. It was two more minutes before she returned to the front. She figured she'd start heading back now or her father would go on a tangent about her being irresponsible, even if she was only a milisecond late. She rolled her eyes at the thought of it.
Nothing she ever did was good enough. She was attending Julliard College, majoring in Liberal Arts, she played the double bass and the piano (self-taught), she could sing and dance and besides English, she spoke Spanish, German, and Swiss. She never did any kind of clubbing or drugging. Any father would have been proud to have a daughter like her. But no, she lacked ambition and wasted too much energy on wanting to be a singer, instead of carrying on his legacy at the Wythe.
She returned to the front with a minute to spare. Her father was with the hotel accountant consulting the financial records, much to her relief. She turned on a radio and tuned into the jazz station. Nothing soothed her nerves more than hearing the licks of a saxophone or meliflous tinklings of piano. The Tom Collins was a bonus.
She looked out the windows once more. The evening sky was full of fuliginous clouds, filled at the seams with water. Most people found times like these dreary and depressing, but not Alex; There was no feeling better than being outside on an overcast autumn day, getting a lung full of air that was crisp as the bite of an apple.
A man dragging a rucksack and carrying a guitar case, entered the hotel lobby. He was a rather tall man wearing a black windbreaker, faded Levi jeans and boots. He had shoulder length auburn hair that was graying at the side and specs of gray in his goatee. His eyes were a clear green like a peridot gemstone. JoJo ogled him as he approached the desk.
"How may I help you, sir?" asked JoJo, having to crane her neck to look at the guest.
"I have a reservation under the name Calaway," said that man. He had a deep, appealing voice in which Alex detected a hint of a Southern accent.
"Calaway," muttered Alex, typing in the last name, "Right, Mr. Mark Calaway, the South 8th Loft is all set for you."
She gathered up the key and handed it to Mark.
"Is there anything else we can do for you this evening?" asked Alex.
"As a matter of fact, there is," said Mark, "two things."
"Sure," said Alex, "what is that, sir?"
"I've not eaten all day , miss," said Mark, "I'd like lobster tails, fresh strawberries with whipped cream, and a bottle of champagne. Armand de Brignac Brut if you have it."
"That can be arranged," said Alex, "what's the other thing?"
Mark's green eyes met Alex's cocoa brown ones.
"I ask you to join me," he said, smiling warmly. A pleasant feeling lept in the lower depts of Alex's stomach.
"O-Okay," stammered Alex.
"I expect to see you in 5 minutes, beautiful," said Mark. He winked at Alex, as he headed to his room.
A bunch of feelings changed at warp speed in Alex's mind; Curiosity, confusion, and Apprehension. Why did this Mark Calaway want her to join him for dinner? Should she dare leave the desk?
Through those feelings, a pang settled in Alex's chest, no doubt bought on by the Tom Collins. It was a hunger pang. Not a hunger for lobster tails, but a hunger for rebellion. Her evenings were so boring when she wasn't in school. All she did was sit at that desk for seven hours straight, it would be nice to disturb the routine for once. And hell, she hadn't been laid in two months.
After coaxing another hotel worker into getting behind the desk until she got back, Alex
made her way to the South 8th Loft. She straightened out the blouse she was wearing before coming to the door. The sound of a guitar was playing inside. Alex listened momentarily before knocking on the door.
"Enter." said Mark's pleasant baritone.
The room was 950 square feet with floor to ceiling windows that displayed an ethereal view of the Manhattan skyline which was aglow with bright lights. There was an interior staircase that lead to an upstairs terrace incase you wanted to go outside and view the skyline. It had a lounge, a dining space, a standalone pedestal tub, and a full service minibar.
Mark sat on the leather sectioned sofa, his back toward Alex. He was still playing on the guitar, a Gibson L5.
"Wes Montgomery," said Alex at once, "Round Midnight."
Mark looked up at her, thoroughly impressed.
"Well, well," he said, "you know your jazz,"
Alex smirked.
"What?" she said, "you assumed I was one of those millennials who thinks Justin Bieber is the greatest thing since sliced bread?"
It was Mark's turn to smirk.
"Oh the irony," he said, "you accusing me of assuming all whilst assuming yourself."
He set the Gibson down and got up. He had took off his windbreaker and was donning a black shirt that was unbuttoned, showing off a white tank top that hugged him, showing off every result of his time spent in the gym. Alex felt her mouth watering.
"I have to ask you, Mr. Calaway," started Alex, but Mark cut her off.
"No need with all that formal stuff, hon," he said, "Mr. Calaway is what they called my father. Mark will do just fine."
"Fine, Mark," said Alex, "I have to ask, why- uh, why'd you ask me up here?"
Mark took off the shirt, showing off his large sinewy arms adorn with a plethora of tattoos.
"I'm a jazz musician who's been touring for about five months now," he said, "and right now I'm a lonely man in this lonely loft who doesn't want to have a lonely dinner."
"Well, I have no problem having dinner with you, Mark," said Alex, "but I usually don't make the habit of coming to the rooms of strange men."
"Oh, I could tell that, hon," said Mark, laughing, "so why'd you come up here?"
"I don't know," said Alex, "I felt like being bad,"
"Is that right?" said Mark, "Well, I hope I get to see how bad you are later on, hmm?"
Alex observed him with a kittenish grin. He was a little older than the guys she usually prefered, but he seemed to have charm, and swagger. His eyes were the most gorgeous pair she'd ever seen.
"Dinner should be heading up here soon," said Mark, "why don't you sit down with me on the couch here, and we'll get to know each other better?"
Alex set herself down on the couch, looking up at the inky indigo sky. Mark joined her shortly and they looked at the view together. Alex detected the scent of Polo Blue cologne from him, which roused her olfactory sensors.
"So," said Mark after a while, "What's your name, and how long have you been working at this hotel?"
"I'm Alex," said Alex twirling her hair around her index finger, "and I've pratically been working in this hotel my entire life, my family has owned this hotel for years."
"That must be nice," said Mark.
"It would be if my father wasn't such an asshole." said Alex.
"Why's he an asshole, hon?" asked Mark.
"He just thinks I exist to obey his orders," said Alex, "He doesn't get that I have a life beyond this stupid hotel. He won't acknowledge my own dreams or aspirations."
"Yeah, parents definitely are a pain in the ass when it comes to what you want to do in life," said Mark, "wanting you to be what they want you to be, and sacrificing the child's happiness to live vicariously through them."
He sounded like he was talking from an anecdotal standpoint.
"Exactly," said Alex, "This hotel is not my destiny."
"What are your dreams and aspirations?" asked Mark.
"Well, I want to get involved in the performing arts," said Alex. "I can dance, play the piano and double bass, and I can also sing."
"Sing?" repeated Mark, his eyebrows raised. "Let me hear you sing something, darlin'."
Alex decided to sing God Bless the Child by Billie Holliday. Mark listened, his jaw dropping in amazement.
"Damn, you could blow, sweetheart," said Mark after Alex finished singer. "You're going to be huge someday."
"Thanks," said Alex, smiling, "so how long have you been a musician?"
"A little over thirty years," said Mark. "Once upon a time, I had dreams of playing basketball. I was well on my way to the pros when a knee injury put a dash on that dream. So I dropped out of college and made money by doing a number of odd jobs and busking on the streets. One night at a jazz club, Chico Davis and his band were in town. Their guitarist had gotten alcohol poisoning and couldn't play. I was the only cat in the club who knew how to play guitar, so I got up on stage and played with them. Things went over so well, I ended up replacing their guitar player and have been playing professionally ever since."
There was a knock at the door.
"Alas," said Mark, "dinner is here."
The bellboy pushed the tray of food into the room. Mark muttered his thanks and set the food on the table. Alex helped him set up in the dining area.
"Well," said Mark, sitting down after he poured Alex and himself a glass of Armand de Brignac, "Bon appetÃt, dear."
A couple of lobster tails and few glasses of champagne later, a reckless giddy sort of feeling took a hold of Alex. She couldn't peel her eyes away from his own viridescent gaze, as he picked up a strawberry and dipped it emphatically in whipped cream.
"Hey, um, you don't have to eat those strawberries by yourself, big man," she said, her voice a little husky as she walked over to him. "Let me help you eat them."
She took the dipped strawberry and brushed it against Mark's lips slowly, smearing them with whipped cream. She then pulled him into an intoxicating kiss, feeding Mark both the sweetness of her lips, and the sweetness of the whipped cream. Mark groaned, pulling Alex down on his lap as his tongue found hers.
Alex positioned the strawberry tightly between her teeth and lifted up Mark's tank top over his head, tracing the berry seductively over the letters inked on his stomach and working his way back up to his mouth again, where he took a bite of the tip and snatched Alex's lips into another fervid kiss.
Mark ran his large hands up Alex's blouse, feeling every curvy goodness of her mahogany flesh forming in goosebumps under them. He removed her blouse, leaving her in a lacy purple bra.
"Let's take this to the bed, shall we?" said Mark, his voice lowering an octave in his lust. The scent of his arousal was strong like morning coffee and it was driving Alex wild.
Mark lay Alex gently down on the king sized bed, his hands snaking behind her back and unhooking her bra. She had small, but plump breasts that were tender to the touch. Mark took the bottle of Armand de Brignac and poured the golden liquid over her breasts, watching it trickle down her sternum like some kind of exotic stream. He lapped up the champagne, causing Alex to shiver in anticipation as his tongue made contact with her flesh.
He pushed her skirt up further, kissing her thighs earnestly. Then he slid her panties past her ankles and looked down at the curly mound, glistening with her excitement.
He dabbed some whipped cream between Alex's thighs and pushed them to either side of the bed. He then lowered his head dug his tongue deep into the portals of her womanhood causing an electrical surge that caused Alex to shout cries of bliss. Two months of pent up hormones being released made Alex buck uncontrollably. She couldn't hang on as Mark's tongue met her easily aroused bud and tried to push Mark's head away, begging him to stop.
"But I'm just getting started, sexy," said Mark, standing up and unbuckling his belt. He dropped his pants showing off his thick, pulsating cock.
A gasp escaped Alex as he filled her to the hilt. She looked up at the greens, luminscent with wild desire as broke into consistent, but strong thrusts. Alex moaned and screamed, wriggling and writhing underneath him as her toes curled. He quickened the tempo, bearing down on her, pumping harder, his balls, slapping against her upturned bottom.
"Take it!" said Mark, hoarsley as Alex squirmed underneath him. "Take all of it."
Alex cried out once more, glorious waves of splendor crashing down upon her. Clutching the sheets tight, she whimpered Mark's name a few while Mark pumped meat rocket into her.
She yelped as Mark pulled out of her, flipped her over and raised her up on her knees. He gave her perky little bottom a few smacks before entering her once more, this time pounding the hell out of her, while he wrapped his mouth around Alex's mouth to cover her loud, sensous moans.
At long last, he pulled out of her and released his final moment of ecstasy onto the small of Alex's back. He was breathing hard as he collapsed on the bed next to Alex, who crawled on top of him, kissing him.
"That was amazing, darlin'," said Mark while he gripped Alex's butt tight.
"Yeah, it was," said Alex, running her hand through Mark's hair, "I've never been fucked like that before."
"If you come on the road with me and be my new singer, I'll give you more of that," said Mark, "what do you say, Alex?"
"Me? Come on the road with you?" inquired Alex. "Are you serious?"
"Well, if you want to stay here, I'll completely understand," said Mark quickly.
"Hell no, I don't want to stay here," said Alex, "when can I leave with you?"
"I board the plane first thing tomorrow morning," said Mark, "I can pay for your ticket."
"I'd love to see the look on Daddy's face when he sees that I'm gone," said Alex, dreamfully.
"You needn't worry about him anymore," said Mark, "Cuz far as I'm concerned, I'm your daddy now."