It Happened One Night
Rita and Miles
"Thanks so much for driving, Max. This is so much easier than taking two cars or leaving the station wagon somewhere overnight," Jennifer said, fixing her lipstick in her compact mirror from the passenger seat of the yellow Mercedes as Max chauffeured her all the way out to Manhattan Beach.
"Sure thing, Mrs. H," he responded.
They didn't say anything else on the matter. They both knew what was happening, and it certainly wasn't the first time. Not by a long shot. Nor would it be the last time Max had to drive one of the Harts out to some bar or nightclub in one of the areas of LA where they otherwise never went.
Jennifer felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach as the freeway exits told her they were getting closer and closer. She was a little out of practice doing this, but oh it was fun.
Tonight, she wasn't Jennifer Hart. She had Jennifer's hair and Jennifer's face—though the bright pink lipstick was rather un-Jennifer—but instead of Jennifer, she was Rita. Rita was on the prowl looking for some fun tonight. And as Rita twisted Jennifer's wedding ring on her finger, she smiled.
Max pulled up to the front of the bar to let her out. She thanked him again and wished him a goodnight.
Miles Beaufort sat inside the dive bar in Manhattan Beach nursing a bourbon. Born and raised in Kentucky as he was, Miles hardly ever drank anything else. But he wasn't looking to get drunk tonight. He was looking to get lucky.
He heard the door to the bar open just as the song on the jukebox—something by Bruce Springsteen—finished playing. Miles readjusted his Stetson as he looked up.
"Damn, would you look at that," he muttered to himself. The lady who walked in had soft auburn hair and a million watt smile with hot pink lips. Emphasis on the hot. Her face was so pretty that it took Miles a second to look down at the tight, short skirt and low-cut blouse she wore. Pink blouse to match the pink lips.
Miles watched her as she took a seat at the other end of the bar. He took another sip of bourbon and wiped the excess from his mustache. The lady with the pink lips looked in his direction and smiled.
She was trying to get the bartender's attention, and it didn't escape Miles that he and everyone else in the bar wanted her attention to themselves. But the bartender was faced away from her, so Miles took the opportunity to order a bourbon to be sent to the newcomer.
Rita was glad when the bartender faced her direction so she could ask for a drink. But to her surprise, one was put in front of her. "From the cowboy at the end," the man told her.
Of course it was. Rita had seen him as soon as she'd walked in. Even if he wasn't wearing a cowboy hat, she would have noticed him. He was gorgeous. Thick, dark mustache and long sideburns and a good bulk to his body and sparkling blue eyes that made her weak in the knees as soon as he looked at her.
She craned her neck around the bar and raised her glass to the cowboy in thanks.
Miles grinned, taking immediate advantage of the invitation. He picked up his own glass and stood up, making his way around the bar to her.
Rita followed him with her eyes, sizing him up now that he was standing. He wore a flannel shirt with three buttons undone and a pair of tight jeans that made her want to peel them off his body.
"Hi there," he greeted with a slight southern drawl.
"Thanks for the drink," she answered with her harsh New York accent.
His brow went up underneath the brim of his hat in surprise at the sound of her voice. Though maybe the pink lipstick should have given him a hint about what kind of gal this was. "My pleasure. I'm Miles," he introduced.
"Rita. Nice t' meetcha."
She almost wished she had chewing gum to smack on. It would have really sold the character. But this was working out just fine.
"So tell me," Rita continued, "What's a nice southern gent doing all the way out here on the coast?"
"I'm from Kentucky and I'm traveling with some racehorse people. Just lookin' to meet someone while I'm here," Miles told her.
"Well you met me," she said, her hazel eyes sparkling. She took a sip of bourbon.
The jukebox started up again and a couple of the other patrons took to the floor. "Say, you wanna dance?" Miles offered.
"Sure," Rita agreed. She took a big swig of bourbon and set the empty glass down on the bar.
Miles took her hand and helped keep her steady on her teetering high heels. And damn, that skirt was short! He almost didn't want to dance with her but just watch her walk instead.
The song was up tempo, which made Rita a little nervous. She would have rather just swayed in the arms of this gorgeous guy in a Stetson, but this could be fun. He wrapped one arm around her and led her in a jaunty two step. She did stumble a little, but they ended up laughing. He was a good dancer. And he had a nice laugh.
When that song was over, another came right on its tails. Finally, a slow song. Miles brought Rita closer to him, their bodies pressed together as they moved in unison.
"Excuse me."
Another patron of the bar tapped Miles on the shoulder, causing him to pull away slightly from Rita, much to his chagrin. "Yes?"
"I'm cutting in," the man said.
Miles frowned, looking from the man to Rita. Rita glanced at him with a frown and looked back at the intruder. "What if I don't want you to?" she challenged, putting on her best tough girl Brooklyn tone.
"It's just one dance," the man whined.
And now seeing that Rita had no interest in this guy, Miles stood firm. "The little lady said no."
"Hey, listen here—Agh!"
And that was as far as the conversation went. Rita stepped on his toe with her high heel, causing him to yelp in pain.
"Come on, baby, let's get outta here," Miles suggested. He took her hand and pulled her away from the dancefloor before things could get even more out of hand. Miles tossed a wad of cash on the bar to cover their drinks and led Rita right out the door.
"Ugh, the nerve of that asshole!" Rita grumbled, once they were out in the fresh air.
"Some people are just damn rude. Ain't no way to treat a lady. She says no, it means no!" Miles said emphatically.
Rita stopped walking at the corner of the street, turning herself to Miles and putting her hands on his broad chest. "Well this lady's gonna say yes to you, cowboy," she told him in a seductive tone. "My place or yours?"
Miles grinned, knowing he'd gotten exactly what he wanted. "My car is this way."
They held hands as they made their way down the block, just out of view and earshot of the bar. Rita felt herself buzzing with excitement about where this encounter with this attractive man could go.
A moment later, they arrived at a beautiful green Rolls-Royce. The canvas roof was secured in place, making the car inside sheltered from everything around.
Miles unlocked the car and opened the door for Rita to get in. She slid over to the far end of the bench seat, and Miles got in behind the wheel. He turned to her, tossing his hat off to the back seat. "I don't think we need to rush off anywhere, do you?"
Rita's jaw dropped in surprise. "Well, it's a nice car to spend some time, I guess," she said, recovering quickly. "Where's a cowboy like you get somethin' like this?"
"Borrowed it from my boss," Miles answered with a shrug.
"I bet we can have more fun in it than your boss does," Rita replied cheekily.
Miles chuckled in agreement. But he didn't say anything as he leaned in towards Rita. She met him halfway. Their lips crashed together in an immediately passionate kiss.
The mustache was a little scratchy but it made Rita's mouth burn so deliciously. But the way Miles moved his lips and the taste of his tongue inside her mouth and the feel of his hot breath were all so intoxicating. It was hard to consider what her favorite part of him was.
Her fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt. He shivered to feel her hands on his chest. Miles moved his kisses to her jaw and down her neck. He was eager to get her top off and explore more of that incredible body.
But Rita had other plans. She pushed him away slightly, and forced the shirt sleeves off his arms. Her mouth with all that lipstick smeared all over moved to his chest. He was going to have hot pink blotches all over his body. He wouldn't have it any other way.
Rita could feel the pounding of his heart beneath her lips. Her fingers roamed over the solid strength of him, covered in masculine hair and feeling so good that she wanted to drown herself in this man's body. The ache of arousal deep in her belly was driving her crazy. She couldn't get enough of him.
Miles took back control of the situation by pulling Rita's blouse up over her head. Her breasts were encased in black lace that didn't cover much of anything. He stared at her for a second, dumbstruck.
"Like what you see, cowboy?" Rita taunted.
He nodded. She giggled and leaned herself back against the car door, kicking off her shoes and putting her legs up on the seat. Miles frowned in slight disappointment. "I liked the shoes," he pouted.
"I'll put 'em back on for ya later," she promised.
Miles shifted himself to cover her body with his. He leaned in for more fiery kisses, this time making his way down her body with very little impediment. Rita readjusted so that he could get between her legs. Miles only took his mouth off her skin for a moment, hiking her skirt up to her waist. He was delighted to find that the black lace bra was part of a matching set, including the garter belt that held up her sheer black stockings.
He traced the line of her panties in a gentle, arousing fashion. Rita's breaths were already coming heavily. And then, without warning, Miles yanked at the lace and ripped it right off her body. Rita gasped in surprise. The adrenaline coursed through her body. And when he put her ruined underwear in the front pocket of his jeans, Rita felt a jolt right to her core.
With an eager smile, Miles went back to kissing her, this time each of her inner thighs in turn. His tongue darted out to tease her. And then he moved to where he knew she wanted him.
When his tongue traced her folds, Rita cried out, almost coming from that alone. The eroticism of this encounter was more than she'd ever dreamed, and she was already half out of her mind with lust over it all.
Miles went to work, sucking and licking and thrusting his tongue inside her. The thought briefly crossed her mind that she'd never experienced anything that felt better than this. Soft lips, agile tongue, and the incredible feeling of that mustache.
She was on the brink of shattering. Her foot kicked out and hit the steering wheel. The car horn blared for half a second. He lifted his head up in surprise. "Jennifer, be careful!" he scolded.
She was barely able to speak, despite the heart attack that horn caused. "I'm sorry, darling, you know what a mustache does to me," she replied.
That mustache was already looking glossy thanks to his efforts getting her dripping wetness smeared all over his mouth. With a smug smirk, he delved back to continue what he'd started. This time, though, he grabbed hold of her thighs to keep her from moving around too much.
It didn't take much longer for her to come. Jonathan felt her pulsate with pleasure against his mouth. He could never get enough of that. But for the time being, his jeans were feeling painfully tight and he was getting a crick in his neck from this angle. He slowed and stilled, going back to place tender kisses to her thighs.
Jonathan sat up and watched the way she lay there, utterly ravished and panting while still half-dressed. "God, you're beautiful," he admired.
Jennifer's eyes blinked open blearily, and she smiled up at him. "You've got pink lipstick all over your face."
"Whose fault is that?" he countered.
"I thought it was a fun touch to the character," she defended.
He laughed, helping her sit up and get a little more comfortable. But of course, he kept his arms wrapped around her. "Rita's a great character. Where'd you get that voice from?"
"That was a last-minute decision, actually. I saw you with the Stetson, so I didn't want to go southern."
Jonathan laughed. "And what did you think of the look?"
"Well, you know I love the mustache."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I've noticed. But how about the rest of it? I tried for subtle this time."
Jennifer laughed and snuggled against him, kissing his cheek. "A Stetson is hardly subtle, but this was as subtle as I think I've ever seen you. I loved it, darling. Miles was a lot of fun."
"Miles Beaufort, born and raised in Kentucky with bourbon and horses."
"Oh, Miles has a last name? I didn't get that far with Rita."
"Something to think about for next time."
She laughed again. "I love you, darling."
Jonathan turned to her, sparkling blue eyes meeting sparkling hazel. "What a coincidence."
"Oh?"
He leaned in slowly. "Because I love you, too."
Their lips met, this time much more sensual and slow.
Jonathan forced himself to pull away before they got too carried away. "Let's get home," he insisted. "I think my shirt is on the floor by you, darling."
Jennifer retrieved both of their clothes and they got loosely dressed again for the drive back home. Manhattan Beach back to Bel Air was a bit longer than they would have liked, given the fact that they weren't nearly through with their lovemaking, but they could hardly dress up as strangers at any place people might know them. That would spoil the fun.
Tonight they'd certainly had fun. And it wasn't nearly over yet.