29 comments/ 133378 views/ 25 favorites Nicole's Valentine's Day Surprise By: MrKitty Author's Note: This story is a continuation of my Christmas contest entry, St. Nicole's Christmas Miracle, which you can read if you want the history between the character's first meeting. Thanks to everyone for all the positive feedback on that story—I hope you like this one… * My Valentine's Day was quite eventful this year. I'll tell you all about it, but I suppose I should start first with my strange Christmas. Strange, but good. In throwing a neighborhood party for the kids, I sort of fell for the guy I hired to play Santa. His name is Rick. And no, he isn't fat. We didn't plan it. Both of us were having a terrible year. Rick's wife left him and he lost his job, and my Duane died in a car crash a little over a year ago. We were both lonesome, emotionally damaged goods, so I suppose it was natural that it went from comforting each other to something else rather quickly. It probably wouldn't have happened under other circumstances. But I'm glad it did. My girls took to Rick easily. I was happy for them; they needed a father figure around. I didn't share it with Rick, but it made me deeply sad how easily their young hearts made room for Rick by pushing their father's memories aside, without guilt or mourning. If only I could heal that simply. Rick did bring joy back into my life, and he was respectful for my loss, but every time I saw Marcy's eyes or Kayle's smile, I thought about Duane. Thankfully, it didn't seem to even enter their young minds that he was white. I longed for the blissfully simple child's view, untainted by the strain of living. I claim that I don't have a problem with Rick being white, and he claims he doesn't have a problem with me being black. It's hard though when your whole life has been filled with friends and strangers pointing out our differences. When you're taught that we're not like them. Rick and I want it to work so badly that we overlook any unconscious slights. We're so unlikely that it has to work. It's us against the world. I think that the race thing almost makes it easier because we're just that much more sensitive to each other. We almost never argue, and so far we've never fought. He's been so kind to me, and to the girls: it's embarrassing. I'm his brown sugar princess, so he says. He got me a little white Pontiac for Christmas, and he'd piled a mountain of presents on the girls. He'd known me for maybe two weeks, and he got me a car. I knew he'd fallen for me, but I guess I didn't realize how hard. I almost didn't believe it, and I almost had him take it back. Almost. I felt kinda shitty because I can't afford anything extravagant like that. Instead, my present for him in return was to fuck his brains out. He said that he liked his present way more, which made me smile, a sly dirty-girl smile. God, did I need a new car. I couldn't afford the mortgage after Duane passed, so I'd taken a seamy, but better paying job as a cocktail waitress at a club called the Landing Strip, out by Metro airport. It was a topless club if you couldn't have guessed from the name, a standalone building in a blue-collar town, with a gaudy pink neon sign. It wasn't a bad place as those places go, and the money was pretty good. Far better than my secretary job. The money would have been better if I was willing to take my clothes completely off. I wasn't a dancer, but they tried to talk me into it. "Come on Nikki, you'd make a killing!" No thanks: not for me. My momma had raised me with at least a little self-respect. Momma had been watching the girls on my work nights, but now that Rick was in the picture, he'd taken over that job. Rick won a lot of points when I first introduced them. He was respectful and courteous, listening intently to her stories, and calling her "Mrs. Gregson" all the time. She might not have picked a white man to date her daughter if I'd asked her, but I didn't, and she seemed to take it in stride. She only embarrassed me a couple times. Once, when she found out Rick was out of work, I could tell she almost called him a dead-beat. She stopped herself short, but I knew her too well. But she did admonish him: "you better take care of my Nicole, you hear!" He replied in all seriousness, "I don't buy cars for just any girl I date, Mrs. Gregson." She cracked up after that pretty good. Yeah, I think she likes him. Rick was staying over almost constantly these days, and I was grateful. He had a little dump of a bachelor's pad out in Redford he'd rented after his divorce. He took me there once—it was sad and lifeless, unpacked boxes all around, nothing of comfort or beauty, no environment. He said he liked staying at my place. I like having a man in the house, and I know the girls do too. He's always trying to help me fix it up. Not that I couldn't do household things, but like every good man he has an innate skill and patience with handyman tasks, combined with a little extra height, a little extra strength, and a little extra know how. With Rick around, our home seems warmer, more alive, and more safe. We live in downtown Detroit. Although there are worse neighborhoods, there are plenty better—I liked knowing he is there to protect us, just in case. It was nice to have the house buzzing again. Over the dinner dishes, I'd hear shrieks of delight filtering in from the family room as Rick would play with my Marcy and Kayle, picking them up and tossing them in the air, or rolling around on the floor with them. Once they had gotten sufficiently tired out, he'd tuck them in and read them bedtime stories. I know why they first fell for him; they believed he was Santa. My oldest had recognized Rick even without the big white beard he'd worn at the party—must've been his eyes—and it was their little secret that Rick kept up. Eventually she'd find out, but why spoil it now? On nights that I wasn't working, after the girls were put down, Rick and I would sneak off to my room and we'd go at each other like teenagers. I loved to feel his hands roam my body, manly calloused hands, gently exploring my soft curves as if he was afraid I would break. He loved to play with my curly hair, nestling his fingers in it while I lay against his chest. I'd slide my head down his chest, over his stomach, and pop his cock into my mouth, nursing on him and massaging his balls while he'd stroke my hair. He liked to go down on me too, which was a wicked new pleasure for me. Not too many men I'd dated did that, but I eagerly spread myself and he would devour me greedily. He'd get me nice and wet, begging to feel him inside me, bumping up back against him while he massaged my tits and stroked my back. God it felt good to get regularly laid again. On nights I did work, I'd come home late, around 4AM. The first few times he tried to stay awake for me. I didn't expect him to stay up, and after a while he'd always have fallen asleep when I came home. Hell, I'd be sleeping if I could too. I loved to come home then, knowing he was there watching over my girls, not having to worry about picking them up from Momma's house in the morning. I'd open the front door quiet as a mouse, pull off my cold, sloshy boots, hang up my coat, and tiptoe to the bedroom. Once I'd taken a quick shower to cut away the smoke, I'd slide under the sheets next to him, naked and clean, cuddling up against his sleeping body. He asked about coming to see me work. I didn't want him to. I wasn't embarrassed about him, not at all. He was the one worried about our slight age difference, not me. I just didn't want him seeing me there. It was one thing to be a private slut for him. It was another to have him see me there, watching other men leering at me, barely covered by my skimpy blue dress. He begged and begged, saying how he thought I was so sexy, he wanted to see my outfit, see where I worked, see the friends I talked about. Eventually I relented. The night he was coming to my job, we dropped off the girls at Momma's, each of us carrying one of their bundled sleeping forms. I insisted that we drive separately, just in case he didn't want to stay my whole shift. He didn't want to, but he let me have my way, thankfully as it turned out. We came in the back, and I quickly got undressed in front of him, and started to put on my costume. Rick smiled, and looked at me with eager loving eyes as I was fitting myself into the black leotard and the skimpy little blueberry dress with it's built-in push-up bra. I'm not very big on top, and Rick insists he likes them small. After stuffing myself into the cups and the appropriate tugging and yanking into place, even Rick had to admit that they looked bigger and quite sexy. I spritzed my hair and gave myself a generous splash of Kai on my wrists and neck, ready for the night. "Okay hon, time for you to go out front," I told him. "Alright. You look gorgeous," he said. Rick looked at me, his eyes wide and wet with a strange mix of lust, concern, and care. "Don't worry; I do this every night." "That's exactly what I'm worried about. I'll see you out there," he said, giving me a soft kiss and walking out the back door, back around to the normal customer entrance. Jasmine, one of the dancers saw us part. "Boyfriends are trouble here, sweetie. The green-eyed monster inside can't take it," she said, tapping her heart with her finger. "Yeah, but I thought maybe since I'm not naked it'd be okay." "You're still on display, girl. I've lost boyfriends by bringing them here." I got suddenly very worried. Jasmine obviously saw it and immediately covered for herself. "I don't think that'll happen to you Nicole." "God I hope not. I really like this guy, and I don't want to mess things up. Maybe this was a huge mistake!" "I'm sure it'll be fine. He seems more mature than most." She gave me a hug. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to make you worry." "I know you didn't. It's okay." I got my order pad, and strode out to the front of the house. This is the only strip club I've ever been in, so I really have nothing to compare it to, but I hear this is better than most. The atmosphere is loud and smoky, full of sweat, alcohol, and male lust. The women dancing know how to manipulate men so easily, coaxing male wallets empty, more with their eyes and their smiles than their tits and ass. At first I was repulsed by it, but after a while I almost felt sorry for the men, brains hanging between their legs, willing slaves to something I wouldn't ever truly understand. But I had learned how to get good tips too, and I wasn't sure I wanted Rick to see me working it. I saw him sitting at the bar, watching the proceedings, talking with our bartender Amy. Two of the girls were on stage, executing their motions in a long slutty unsynchronized dance routine: strutting around the poles, looking straight at the men seated around the stage, stretching their legs in the air, squatting down on their asses right in front of them, then turning to cup their bare tits for their mark. They swiveled and rotated their bodies, bouncing in time to the music, blowing kisses, winking seductively at the crowd and each other. They stroked themselves, touching their breasts, their asses, rubbing their thinly G-string covered crotches. Rick stared at them—no straight man could resist—and that didn't bother me at all. But once he saw me, he smiled and fixated on me, and I squirmed a little, wondering what he thought of me. I almost wished he'd stare back at the dancers. I worked my assigned tables ignoring Rick, bending over deep to put down the men's drinks, and making sure to bend over at nearby tables to give a good show of my rear as well. I was all smiles, not completely fake, but not completely real either. The music was loud, so I leaned in close to talk into their ears, brushing up against them in the process. I flirted and chatted up the men, making them feel good about themselves, loosening those purse strings. A big group of rowdy blue-collar guys came in and got seated in a circular booth next to the bar. Next to Rick's bar stool. They had pretty well gotten their drunk on before they'd come here. Sheila, one of the other waitresses, squinted at them cautiously, then asked me hopefully if I wanted that table. Feeling brave, I said yes. A big fat guy in a purple pin-striped shirt was clearly the ring-leader. He bellowed out "Two MGD's all around, pronto!" to which I replied "Coming up sweetie!" and hurried off to the bar to grab a dozen beers from Amy. I was standing by Rick's stool at the bar waiting for my beers, and he leaned over. "I bet you have some real jerks in here some nights, huh babe?" "Most nights. But not every guy is. Some are kinda sweet." "I don't know how you do it." "Money is a good motivator." Amy finished popping open the dozen beers, placing them on my tray. "Beers are here dear—gotta go." "Good luck," he said, as I carried my tray of booze off to Trouble. I started setting them down, two to a man, bending over to give a good look at the goods, and the king pin shouted "Nice tits, huh guys?" Most guys were quiet about stealing a glance, as if they were getting caught doing something they weren't supposed to. Not this guy. He started laughing uproariously, and some of them nervously followed suit. I did my best to not look in Rick's direction. I didn't want to see what was on his face. I hurried off to serve less drunk patrons, while the louts busied themselves looking at the less clothed entertainment. A while had passed with me occupied elsewhere, too long obviously, and I heard the rowdy table shouting "Over here!" Downing two beers a piece, on top of what they'd already had that night hadn't helped their inhibitions. That's when it happened. The fat guy shouted "Hey darkie—get your ass over here!" I was two tables away, and immediately looked up. There was no question who it was directed to. African-Americans in the crowd were few: no customers that I could see, a bouncer Maurice, a dancer who called herself Coco and who wasn't even on the floor. And me. Rick had sprung up from his stool, and within a stride was at the loud-mouth's table. "What did you just say?" he demanded. I stared at him, never before having seen rage on his face like that. The music kept pumping, but conversation had stopped. The dancers still gyrated, but had turned themselves to watch the action, just like everyone else within earshot. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I was speechless. Rick was an ex-engineer, not a fighter, and I didn't like where this was going. "You must be deaf son, 'cause I was shouting! I was asking, real polite like, if your nigger girlfriend over there could get to work so we could get some drinks!" He started a self-congratulatory laughing fit. Quite suddenly Rick leapt across the table, scattering empties in every direction, and smashed the fat man straight in the face with his fist, following up with another immediate blow to the man's stomach. "Don't you dare, you fucking piece of shit!" he hissed between clenched teeth. The man had not been expecting anything from Rick, certainly not an explosion of rage like that. He struck back ineffectively, his nose bleeding, his swings wild and drunken. The rowdies also were quite surprised, but they managed to pull Rick off. Our bouncers arrived quickly there to break it up: Maurice escorted Rick off to the far corner of the bar, while Tommy talked down the fat man and his friends. I didn't hear much, but I did hear some more unflattering remarks made in my direction, at which point, Maurice and Tommy ended up escorting the fat man, who'd subsequently vomited, and his drunken gang out the door. I rushed over to Rick, and I held his face to the dim bar lights in concern. He had gotten a little beating in the tussle, but not bad. "What was that for?" I said, incredulously. "I'm not having some asshole talk to you like that!" "I can take care of myself," I said defiantly. By this time, Maurice, and Amy the bartender had come over. "Hey man, are you okay?" Maurice asked Rick, his body towering over Rick sitting on the stool. "Yeah, fine," Rick said. Maurice gave him a little lecture. "I understand getting pissed at those drunk racist crackers. But why don't you head on home and let your woman finish up the night? We'll take care of her, like we do every night. A'ight?" I turned to Rick, and softly added, "I'm sorry I had you come. Please go home. Now." "I'm sorry for causing problems," he said to Maurice, and then to me "I'm really sorry babe. I'll see you at home." Rick gave me a peck on the cheek, and walked out, his head hung dejected. Maurice watched him leave, then turned to me. "Skinny little boyfriend could'a got his ass beat, you know that?" "Yeah, I know. I've never seen him rage like that." Maurice smiled. "I'm guessing he ain't never seen his woman treated like that." Amy winked at me, with a knowing smile. "Well, I think it's kinda romantic. A man defending your honor like that. And they say chivalry is dead!" I thought about what had happened the whole rest of the night. I was going through the motions even more woodenly than normal. We finally closed up, and after we'd cleaned up the place, I sat at the bar with Amy, Jasmine, and Coco, using whisky sours to wash the night away. I sighed. "I still can't believe Rick went ape-shit on that guy." Coco was miffed, "Damn it all that I wasn't out front—I didn't see anything!" Jasmine smiled, "Well, I could see pretty well from the stage. You don't have anything to be worried about, Nicole. Rick took care of himself just fine. Stuff like this happens every once in a while, and nobody cares or remembers." "Thanks," I said, half-heartedly. "You were right—I shouldn't have brought him." Jasmine was good enough not to say I-told-you-so, saying "Nicole, it's obvious he loves you. You're lucky." Amy piped in, "I had a ring-side seat, and you should have seen how pissed he was when that asshole started calling you names." "I saw it," I said. A proud chill went down my spine, knowing that my man would fight over me. "I hope he's not mad at me." "For what?" Coco wondered. "I don't know, maybe I was too hard on him when we asked him to go home," I said. Amy hopefully interjected, "You can always make it up to him on Valentine's Day." "Shit!", I started. "Oh oh. You didn't get him anything?" Jasmine asked. "No, I totally forgot. When is it?" "Tomorrow, honey. Being that no stores are open at 3AM, you're screwed." Jasmine wasn't doing a very good job consoling me. Amy giggled, "No, he's screwed. Just give him every man's most wanted gift and every woman's best fall-back gift ever. Sex!" We all laughed, and Amy added, "You know you wouldn't laugh if it weren't true." I moaned, "Yes, my man loves sex, but that's all I got him for Christmas!" "Girlfriend, did he complain?" Coco asked with a grin. "Well, no. But isn't that really lame to just repeat it?" I worried. The girls were all leaning in, fire gleaming in their eyes as they helped cook up a plot. Amy offered the first suggestion: "Bump it up a notch. Does he have a fantasy you can act out?" I thought for a while. "Yes," I said. He had told me that he'd tried to get a call girl twice after he was divorced, but he chickened out in making the actual plans. He told me how he'd fantasized about it, needing a woman, wanting that illicit sex, but afraid and how the danger fueled his need. Yes, that would be perfect. The hens pounced, all clamoring to know what it was, but I refused to spill it. "You're not finding out that easily. But thanks for the great idea guys!" I yelled as I jumped up and ran for the door. Nicole's Valentine's Day Surprise My hands worked the steering wheel mindlessly, the route etched into my subconscious from so many other trips home in the dead of night. I turned over the fight in my mind dozens of times, reliving each facet of it. The only emotion I was left with was love. He had risked himself for me. The thought of him being provoked to defend me turned me on—I could feel myself getting wet. I worked out the plan for my Valentine's Day seduction while my hands took me home. I was really proud of myself—I knew he'd be happy. I came in the front door, as quietly as I could, but the spring and chain on the screen rattled as always. Rick was sitting at the kitchen table, a wet washcloth full of ice wrapped around his knuckles, looking ashamed. I shucked off my boots and coat and ran over to him. "Please don't look that way—I'm not mad!" I said. Rick looked up, his face serious and apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper. I know you didn't want me there in the first place and I ruined it. I wasn't jealous when you were giving a free show. I've been to those places—I know what goes on. I just couldn't sit by with that mother fucker…" I stood behind his chair and held his head to my chest. "Shh, it's okay. I'm proud that you defended me. I'm sorry you had to see it, that's all." "Do you deal with a lot of racists?" he asked, an angry tone in his voice. "Mostly not. Not every week, probably not even every month. Just every once in a while. You just lucked out." Rick gritted his teeth, and growled. "God, that pisses me off! You deserve better than that." After a long pause, he added sincerely, "I wish you didn't have to work there." I stroked his hair. "I wish I didn't either baby, but I've got bills to pay. I know you mean well, but you can't spend all your savings on me either. You don't even have a job—you can't afford it." I felt bad instantly after it had slipped out. The job was a sensitive topic. He'd been looking non-stop after he'd been laid off, and the only job he'd had was the temporary Christmas gig playing the mall Santa. I privately thanked God for his lay off since we'd never had met otherwise. But to a proud man, it was a low blow to not be the provider. He looked hurt, but didn't say anything. "Sorry—I didn't mean anything by it, you know that." "I do," he said softly. "Let me get showered and let's go to bed," I added quickly, hoping to divert the conversation. "Okay," he agreed. It was late when I woke up, almost 11:30. I scampered out of bed and rushed to the dresser, sorting through my underthings. Rick was still lounging in bed. "What's the rush, hon—don't you want to stay under the covers a little longer? Neither of us has to work…" He patted the bed next to him, with a come-hither smile. By then I had already slid up my panties and was in the process of tossing on a pair of jeans and a big floppy sweatshirt. "I've got some errands to run, and I'll be out all afternoon," I said breathlessly. "But it's Valentine's Day!" he pleaded. "I know Tiger. I promise you'll get yours, don't worry. Can you drop the girls off at my mom's again?" I said, as I quickly fixed my hair. "I was planning on it already—I've got us dinner reservations at seven," Rick said confidently. "Uh unh. Not this time. Cancel them. I'm taking care of the evening's festivities," I called over my shoulder, patting oil off my face with a compact. "Cancel them?" he asked again, as if he didn't hear me right. "Yup. Cancel them." "But, you don't understand…" he said, puzzled by my forcefulness. "This is a really nice place, and…" "Cancel them. I'm not going to let you get stuck with always being the romantic in this relationship. It's my turn." I had now moved to the ensuite bathroom, in the process of rapidly shaving my legs. "Sweetie," he pleaded, "this is really special, I mean really, really special, and I need you to listen to me." I wasn't going to let him surprise me one more time without me getting a chance to return the favor. "Don't argue! Just do it," I said, no hint of a choice left in my reply, finishing up wiping off my legs with a moist towel. He looked stunned, but he said "Okay, I guess I'll have to." "Can you leave your cell phone on? I'll probably call you around 5 or so." "Okay," he said, looking defeated. "Look, this isn't about last night, is it?" "Not at all," I said, noticing his sullen look. I softened right away and slowed my frantic pace, turning to look at him directly. "Look sweetheart—I want to make this Valentine's Day special, for you. I just don't want you trumping me like you did for Christmas. Just let me give a little back, won't you? You'll like it, I promise. Please?" "You're the boss," he said, with a soft mocking tone. "That's why my momma loves you," I smiled back at him. I ran out to Fairlane mall. I'd picked a place out in the suburbs, far enough away to hopefully avoid running into anyone I knew. They had a Fredrick's of Hollywood, and I strode in, confident and purposeful, but more than a little unexperienced with that type of shopping. I wasn't the only woman there with nefarious plans. With the crowds of wanton women looking to settle their evenings entertainment, it took a while for a sales girl to get free and notice me. Finally one came over, a little older, but still looking pretty fine and not as processed as I might have expected for a Fredrick's salesperson. "Looking for help?" she asked, a little pin on her chest with a red heart exclaiming "Valentine's Day Romance!" "I am," I said, matter-of-factly. "I need a black thong, tights, and a dress—a dress that's..." I was looking for a way to say slutty, when she helpfully supplied "One to 'get attention?'" "Nicely put. One to 'get attention.'" She laughed politely, "That's what most of our customers are here for normally. Especially today!" It didn't take long outfitting me with the thong, since I easily found some that I liked in my size. The dress was a little harder—they had quite an array of racy little offerings. I found a sparkly gold one that I loved, but the sales woman talked me out of it since it wasn't a good match for my darker skin tone, and I finally had to agree. I ended up on a deep purple, skin-tight thing, with a hemline just inches below my ass, and a deeply plunging front and back. I'd look like a whore for sure. All part of the plan! I added a pair of fishnet black stockings and black garter to the ensemble. I had her cut off the tags for me, and she placed my slutwear in a small bag. On the way back out, I stopped by a Godiva counter and picked up a small box of chocolates. At the make-up counter in Macy's I got some deep purple eyeshadow and a shocking ruby lipstick to compliment the dress and lingerie. I was running up a little tab with my costume, but I had some spare cash, and it was worth it. I went to the Macy's bathroom with my bags, looking around, and thankfully found it temporarily empty. I locked the door on the handicapped stall, hung my purse and bags on the coat hook, and started changing. I slipped out of my white boy-short panties, and slipped on the black thong. It was lace and delicate beads in front, with a soft string running up the backside. It felt wicked, the string tucked in my booty like that. The fishnet tights needed a garter belt, so I put that on next. The fishnet stockings went up my smooth legs, and I clipped in the garters to keep them up. It was all light and lacy and sexy as hell. I shimmied the dress up and on. It was a tight fit across my ass and hips, so I had to work it up bit-by-bit. The dress was scooped to leave little to the imagination, dipping down almost to my crack in back, and plunging down several inches between my breasts in front. Without a bra, my breasts felt free and embarrassingly exposed as the slinky loose fabric in front teased my nipples. There was no way to wear a bra with this dress—it was designed to show as much of me as possible. The fishnets went up all the way to my crotch, but even then with how short the dress was, the tips of the garter belt were visible. I'd left my nice black pumps in the car; the outfit looked a little ridiculous with my winter boots, but even a slut's gotta have warm feet. I stuffed my jeans and sweatshirt as best as I could into the small Fredrick's bag. I put back on my outerwear, and it almost looked like I wasn't wearing pants at all—you couldn't see the dress from underneath. All you could see is the black fishnets rising above my boots, disappearing into the bottom of my white quilted coat. I was a little tentative in leaving the stall, but I didn't hear anyone, so I snuck out, and in the mirror applied the dark purple eyeshadow and ruby lipstick as quickly as I could, hoping nobody would see. Just as I had completely my ho costume, I was walking out of the restroom, and another woman walked in. She was older, refined, wearing a fur coat—obviously quite someone who belonged in a Macy's. She eyed me and gave a little "humphf!" as I left. I was embarrassed, but I smiled, happy at least that my transformation was complete. I hurried out to the car, avoiding everyone else in the store between me and the exit as best as I could. It was quarter after five, as I sat in the Macy's parking lot, the car running and heater blasting to warm my freezing legs. I called Rick, and he answered before the first ring finished. Sweet little man, probably waiting with the phone in his hands. "Hello?" "Hi, is this Rick?" "Nicole?" "No, this is Sadie," I said, making the name up on the spot. "I'm sorry, you have the wrong number," he said, and he hung up! The dork. I could see I was going to have to be a little more transparent. I quickly redialed. "Hello, Nikki?" he asked. "And who's number does it look like?" I retorted in my most annoyed-black-girl-pointing-out-the-obvious voice. I almost never got ghetto with him, but this time it just called for it. A pause, as I guessed he was holding the phone away from his ear to double-check the caller-id. "Yours, of course," he said confused. "Okay… So, let's try this again." I cleared my throat quite noticeably as punctuation. "Is this Rick?" "Yes." "Hi, this is Sadie. From the service? You know the service, you called? I'm the girl who you wanted for a date tonight?" I gave special emphasis to the words, making them drip with the promise of illicit lust. I could almost hear an audible click as he finally got it. "Ooooooh. Right. Sorry, I forgot that I called," he said, trying quickly to pull himself along with the plot. "For our date, can you pick me up at O'Grady's in Dearborn? You know where that is?" "I think so. No, yeah, I know where it is," he concluded. "Good. See you in a little bit, sexy." "Wait!" Rick called out. "What'll you be wearing?" Ah, hah! Now he was playing the role. It made my pussy tingle to think about. "I'm a black girl in a purple dress. Don't worry, you won't miss me." "Okay. See you in a half hour," he said, hanging up. Next door to the bar was a cheap hotel I knew about. I pulled up and parked in the hotel parking lot. I walked into the lobby and asked for a room. The clerk was a dour old Arabic man wearing a shabby brown sweater. Little was going to get past him. "Hourly or daily?" he asked after glancing at my legs. "Daily, please," I said, trying to maintain my dignity as best as possible. He scratched out the rate on a small card, and pushed it underneath the plexiglass divider. I filled it out, and pushed it back with my license and a credit card. "Check out is at 11AM if you're interested," he said, acknowledging the obvious, but not being rude enough to say anything more. He pushed back a plastic key card and a small sleeve with the number written on it, followed by my ID and credit card. "Thanks," I said, hurriedly grabbing the lot and stuffing it into my coat pocket. The room was accessible from the outside, thankfully around the side of the building and out of sight of the old man in the lobby. I went into the room with my bags and quickly went to work. I pulled back the covers from the bed, which wasn't the best, but was serviceable. I opened the box of chocolates with my fingernail, and set the opened box on the nightstand. I gave myself several fresh spritzes of Kai, misted the perfume into the bed, and sprayed the lightbulbs for good measure. In the bathroom mirror I used my fingertips and touched up my makeup. Finally, I changed out of my clomping boots into my black heels. O'Grady's wasn't far from the hotel—just across the parking lot from the bar. I didn't want to have my winter coat on in the bar, so I braved it. I left my coat and boots in the room, stashed away in the closet. My purse didn't really go with my dress, so I left it too. All I had to take with me was the hotel card, so I held that in my hand as I left, not having a single place to stash it with that dress. It was above freezing—about 38 degrees or so—but in that wisp of fabric it felt like 38 below. I rushed across the parking lot to the bar as fast as my heels would carry me, and wasted no time getting inside. I found a good spot to observe the front door, and sat down. My nipples were at attention from the cold, and no bra prevented them from tenting my dress. Thankfully the bar was mostly empty, but there were enough patrons, all men, and they definitely noticed my entrance. The bartender hurried over to me. "What'll you have, sweetheart?" he said. "Gray goose on the rocks, please." "Don't have that. I've got Popov, that's it. Now, if you want Irish beers…" "Popov is fine," I said. Courage didn't need a quality brand. He poured and sat the glass down. "On the house," he said. "You're a better decoration than we've had around here in a while." "Gee, thanks." I accepted his generosity and sipped, waiting for my Rick. There were several false alarms, as the door opened and a cold blast accompanied the new patrons. Right around five o'clock, men were getting off work, and wandering in for a shot or two before going home. I got plenty of stares. Before my job at the club it probably would have boosted my ego, but now I was almost immune to it. A couple guys were even brave enough to proposition me, but I brushed them off saying I was meeting a friend. I had plenty of time to make a quick order with a Chinese restaurant to arrange for our dinner—I just hoped that the delivery timing would work out. Finally Rick arrived. He briefly scanned the place, and I saw his eyes open wide when they landed on me. He walked right over. "Sadie?" he offered with only the merest hint of a smile. "That's me," I said. "You must be Rick." "Guilty as charged." He eyed me up and down. "Christ, you're beautiful!" "Thanks," I said, trying to play it off casually like a call girl might, yet warmly touched by his genuine remark. "No, I mean it, Sadie. You are so fucking gorgeous," he whispered in close. I blushed a little. "Do you want to stay and have a drink?" I asked him. "Sure," and he sat down beside me. The bartender came over. "What's your poison?" he asked Rick. "Jameson, two fingers, straight up." "Now that, we have. Good Irish whisky." He poured and left us alone with our drinks. Rick turned to me with a devilish look. "You know, I asked the agency for a redhead, but they said she was out." I returned the favor. "Don't worry honey, I'm very popular with all the white boys." I took the key card that had been in my hand, still in its envelope with the room number, and I slipped it into his shirt pocket. He continued. "I've never done this, you know." "Well, I'll have to show you the ropes, then." The smoldering look in Rick's eyes told me that we shouldn't linger there long. It felt so dirty, me pretending the whore, and doing it in public to boot. We downed our drinks quickly, and Rick laid down a bill to cover them. "Where's your coat?" he said, looking around while he donned his. "I didn't wear it in," I said honestly. He immediately took his coat back off, and put it around my shoulders. "It's not right for a lady to be cold," he said. That chivalry again. In between my legs, I could feel that I was getting moist. We walked out, his arm around my shoulders, trying to hold his big coat around me. I ushered us across the parking lot in the general direction of the room. He reached with cold fingers into his shirt pocket, pulled out the key card with "115" written on it, and walked us to the appropriate door. I'd left the heat in the room blasting, and it was pleasantly warm after the frigid trip across the parking lot. The Kai warming off the lamps and the bed had done its job—it smelled strongly of gardenias when we entered. Rick didn't break stride as he closed the door behind us. "Ummmm. I love this smell. Your perfume reminds me of an old girlfriend." "Didn't work out with her?" I asked, innocently. "I'm pretty sure it will," he said mysteriously. In my call girl role, I wanted to steer the night's events along. "What do you want?" I asked him point-blank. "You mean…?" he looked at me. "Yes, what do you want me to do?" "Gee, you girls jump right in, don't you?" "Time is money, honey," I said with a grin. "Well, maybe this isn't something you get a lot of requests for, but I'd like to lick you." "That is a bit unusual, but I'll allow it," I said. I sat back on the bed, and with no formalities hiked up my dress. Being that the dress was almost showing my ass anyway, it didn't take much. I started unbuttoning my garter, and he knelt before me, placing his hand over mine. "No stop. I want to take them off." I laid back, and he started slowly, methodically unsnapping the garter from the stockings. I raised each leg to give him access to the back of my thigh. He could clearly see I was wearing a thong, at which he let out a growl of approval. Once they were detached, he left the garters and stockings in place, and grasping the thong's string on each hip, he carefully slid it down. It stuck briefly in my pussy, embedded between my lips, caught in my moisture. He freed it, pulling them down and away, and gently tossed them aside. I spread myself apart with my fingers, and opened my legs wide. He warmed his nose with his hand while he admired the view for a few moments. He hovered his warm breath over my mound, breathing my scent mixed with my perfume, before he gave me the gentlest kiss. His mouth was warm and wet, and he kissed my pussy again, slowly pushing his face into me to savor each kiss. His kisses met my open lips, warm and wet, and I felt shivers up my spine each time he pressed his mouth against me. His mouth picked up pace, now open mouthed kissing my pussy, sucking on my labia as he retreated. The call girl act was rapidly melting under the onslaught of his mouth. I wanted to stay in character, but I also knew I wouldn't be able to deny him my orgasm, so I cupped his head to my pussy with one hand, put the other behind my head with the other, and laid back for the ride. He sucked my clit into his mouth, nursing at it gently, while he rubbed his face in my mound. His finger probed at my opening, and easily slid inside. He started sucking me with a rhythm, stroking inside me with his finger to match. I pulled his head closer to me, not letting him escape my now ravenous pussy. The combination of sucking my clit while tickling my G-spot didn't take long, and I felt my legs start to tremble at the onset of my orgasm when he suddenly stopped and withdrew his finger. Nicole's Valentine's Day Surprise "Baby, I was almost there!" I whined. "Oh. I'm moving on to something else. I thought you girls didn't come for real. Weren't you just faking it?" That mischievous glint was in his eye, and I knew he was torturing me on purpose. "Well, now what?" I asked, panting, instinctively reaching down to rub my sensitive clit. "I want you to ride me, reverse cowgirl," he said immediately. He pulled down his pants and boxers, and hopped up on the bed expectantly, his hard cock sticking straight up. There was no doubt that he was liking the evening's events so far. I pulled the slinky purple dress up, and lifted it over my head, tossing it on the couch against the wall. I made sure to give him a show of my perky little breasts while I was up. I still wore my garter and my stockings, so I was careful to not snag them as I straddled his body. I reached between my legs, and guided him in. He went in easily, having already made me more than ready with his tongue. I grabbed his knees and rotated my ass around with him inside, making sure to bend forward enough to give him a good show. He felt so good inside me, and I was bumping my little ass up and down on him, trying to complete what he'd started with his mouth. "Don't you girls normally use condoms?" he asked suddenly. Honestly, I hadn't thought of that little detail, but I knew he was right. I played it off. "Normally yes, but you're a special customer and I didn't want to ruin your fun." "Wow. Must be really special," he agreed. He was special. I wanted to be his dirty little girl, and I was feeling so horny for him. I leaned forward and grabbed my ass cheeks and spread them wide. "Can you see my beautiful little black ass, honey?" "Ummm. It's so sexy," he replied. "Wet your thumb and put it against my hole while I ride you, would you?" I purred. It didn't take long before I felt his hand on the small of my back, his thumb nestled in my crack, the wet pad of his thumb eagerly pressed against my asshole. I continued to ride him, hands on his knees while I rotated my pelvis forward and back on his shaft. His thumb was working my ass, just pressing into my ring, when without warning I came and let out a loud prolonged moan. I felt my orgasm pulsing through me, and I clamped my pussy down on Rick's cock tight as I rode it out. I finally collapsed on his legs, and Rick let out a small cry. "Can you sit straight up—you're bending me just a little?" "Oh my god, I'm sorry," I said, as I sat straight up on his lap, his rock hard cock still deep inside me. "Don't worry—I'm fine. I could feel you coming against my thumb. Your asshole was clenching with each wave of your orgasm. Jesus Christ, that was hot." "You didn't come yet, did you?" I turned and asked him over my shoulder. "Not yet," he said, "I want you to suck me off." I raised myself up off him, and knelt between his legs. I leaned in close and I could smell myself on him. He might like my taste, but I thought it was nasty. I knew how sexy he thought it was when I sucked my lubricant off of him, so I lowered myself down, opened my mouth, and took him inside. His cock was slick with my juice. It was musky and metallic, and I much preferred my cock plain, not au jus. But I was too horny to complain, and I needed him to come for me. I took him deep, sucking him hard. I circled one hand around his shaft, and the other cradled his balls as I slowly savored his cock, filling my mouth with his manhood. I tugged his balls, massaging them with my thumb, as I pumped his shaft in rhythm with my sucking mouth. I pressed my tongue underneath his head, rubbing it in coordination with everything else. With each suck, I tried to take him deep, as deeply as I could manage without gagging. His dick completely filled my mouth, and all I could think about was his cock, the smell, the taste, the feel of it invading my senses. I felt his body start to tremble, and I sucked harder, cramming his cock deep into my throat. He shouted, and his hands gently grabbed my side of my face, not to force me down on him like some guys do, but cradling my face to sharing contact with me as he came. I could feel his come squirt into my mouth, feeling it pump out through his shaft where I held him. I kept my head still and swallowed everything he had to give. His orgasm finally subsided, and as I lifted my head from him he gave a sensitive jerk. To show him my devotion, I made a show of licking my lips. "Come up here," he weakly commanded me. I came up, and lay beside him. "Are you Sadie still? Or are you Nicole now?" he asked. "I think I can be Nicole," I smiled. He surprised me by grabbing the back of my head, twining his fingers into my hair, and pulling me close, kissing me deeply. He lifted his mouth from mine. "Christ, you are one sexy fox. I can't believe how lucky I am to have a woman like you. You're a dream girl." "Thank you. I'm glad you liked my surprise." I reached over to the night stand and picked up a chocolate, popping it into his mouth. "Mmmm. I like your chocolate body better, but these are really good." I grabbed one for myself and bit into it—it was rich and aromatic, and it went well with the smell of flowers, musk, and lust. Rick softly kissed my forehead and said, "Thank you for a lovely Valentine's Day present." I beamed. "You're welcome! I didn't want you to top me again." He admitted to me, "You know I cancelled dinner at Opus One." "What? That place is terrifically expensive! Are you just trying to show me up?" "I had two surprises myself and I wanted us to celebrate," Rick said sheepishly. "One is that I think I might have a job. I got called back yesterday for a second interview, and I know one of the guys there who said they don't really have any other candidates with my experience, and that I'm almost a shoe-in." "That's terrific!" I said. "Oh my God, congratulations! I know that's got to take a load off!" "Yeah, I'm pretty excited about it too. Now I'll be able to contribute around the house too. I've felt pretty bad about that." "Oh, please don't worry," I consoled. "And there's one other thing," Rick continued. At that moment, there was a knock at the door. My Chinese take-out order had finally come, and almost perfectly on time. "Hide under the covers—I'll be right back," I said to him, as I ran to the bathroom to toss on sweatshirt. I tugged it down, as far as I could manage to hide my bare ass, but my fishnets were still visible. I turned to Rick and whispered, "This isn't Opus One—I hope you're not disappointed." "Never," he said. I opened the door and peeked around from behind it. "Room 115? Kung Pao Chicken and Sweet and Sour Pork?" the young man asked. He got a glimpse of me hiding myself and Rick in the bed beyond, and had a knowing grin. "Yes—look, here's a twenty, keep the change," I thrust the bill out, and pushed the door open just wide enough to accommodate the paper sack, grabbing it through the opening. "Thanks Ma'am," he said, giving me one last look before departing. I closed the door, turning to Rick triumphantly, and said "Dinner's on!" "You really didn't have to, you know. You're so sweet." "Hey, this is just take out Chinese—you were going to take me to Opus One and I scrapped it!" Rick smiled softly at me. I took my sweatshirt back off, and peeled off my stockings and the garter, leaving myself more comfortable and completely naked, as I struggled to find room on the side table to unpack the contents of the paper sack. "Nicole." "Don't bother me, I'm getting dinner ready," I joked. "Nicole." "What?" I turned around, and he was also naked, kneeling behind me. "What is it?" I turned to face him, suddenly serious. He extended his hand, and in it was a small furry blue box. "Nicole Moore," and he paused dramatically. He flipped open the box to reveal a brilliant diamond sparkling within, and my heart leapt within my chest. "Will you marry me?" I clapped my hands over my mouth, and started to cry. I sobbed uncontrollably, hands struggling to wipe the tears away faster than they were coming. He stood and hugged me. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to answer right away, if you don't want." I snorted through my watering face and looked up at him. His eyes were alive and bright, full of concern. He held me loosely, scanning my face for an answer. I don't think I'd ever had a man who worshipped me like Rick did. Not even Duane, and Duane was really a good man. It had been over a year for me since Duane had gone, and I had already faced the fact that I would never stop missing him, but I was probably ready to move on. I thought about me and Rick living together, him moving in and selling that dump in Redford, taking care of me and the girls. Us being together, forever. "Yes!" I blurted out, kissing him and hugging him back tight. I made him so happy, I could see it in his face, and he took the ring from the box, and gingerly slid it over my finger. It fit perfectly, and it was gorgeous. "And Nikki—can I ask you something serious?" "Of course," I said, still trying to get on top of my tears. "If I get this job, will you quit working at the club? I don't care if you just want to stay home and take care of Marcy and Kayle, or if you go back to your secretary job, or whatever you want to do. I'll make sure we're okay. I just would rather you don't go back there. I worry about you there." "I don't love the club. I'd be happy to leave. But only if you do something for me," I said. "If I quit, I want you to move into my house. Permanently." "It's a deal." He held me tight to him. I pulled him towards the bed, toppling us over backwards onto the bed. He fell on me, keeping his full weight from me with his elbows. He was hard again, and within moments he was inside me again, taking his time slowly stroking in and out of me. We kissed furiously, mouths open, tasting each other mixed with chocolate, saliva and sex, all the while connected below. He took his time, pumping me with an agonizing slowness, making my hips squirm underneath him with anticipation. I wrapped my legs around him to pull him closer. When his stroke hit full depth, I couldn't think of anything else besides him being buried deep within me. On the back stroke, many fleeting thoughts briefly flitted through my mind. We were going to be married! How would the girls take it? How would my mother? He disrupted my thoughts as his mouth sought my breast, sucking hard at my nipples as he continued to pump my pussy. Our passion was intense, and our excitement fueled one another. We came together, looking deep into each other's wide-open eyes, watching our souls open to each other, being as close in that moment to one person as two people can become. Our bodies remained linked, and he collapsed on top of me. We clasped one another, now silent except for our heavy breathing, each coming down enough to feel the sweat of our bodies sticking together as we slightly shifted. We breathed together for what seemed like minutes. Rick broke the silence. "Our Kung Pao and Sweet and Sour is getting cold," he whispered. "Yeah," I agreed, "let's eat." I turned the unfamiliar engagement ring around and around my finger, realizing with a grin that he'd managed to out-romance me again.