0 comments/ 44712 views/ 5 favorites Thunder & Roses By: MacQ "I'm waiting…for something different…something more. There's got to be more…there's just got to be," she reasoned to her friends. "I want thunder…and…I want roses…. That's all." ~~ It seemed to her like every mother's son in the metropolitan area had chosen to drive to work on that early August morning. The traffic pattern in the direction of Reagan National was absolutely horrendous. Now, that was a very common occurrence when you brought Virginians, Marylanders, and Washingtonians together on the roadways, but it seemed even worse on that morning. 'Helter-skelter' was her "pet" term for it. You could almost liken it to biblical time and the building of the Tower of Babel. The great tower had risen steadily toward the heavens, a monument to man's brilliance and his defiance of God's power, until a sudden heaven-imposed difference of tongues halted its architects and builders. Confusion, frustration and chaos prevailed. Nobody knew which way was up, or at least, none could express it. Likewise, those driving the metropolitan DC highways and thoroughfares appeared to hold opposing interpretation of driving instruction as well as driving etiquette. And, likewise, confusion, frustration and chaos reigned. In the end, the builders of Babel had simply walked away, leaving their massive edifice to crumble under the harsh desert winds. Their contemporary counterparts weren't that bright, and no matter how you added that up, it amounted to a catastrophe just waiting to happen. Michelle Paquin watched in silent dismay from the backseat of a taxi. Car horns blared in almost constant unison around her, punctuation to the annoyance felt at the crawl of the morning commute. A sudden edginess even crept into her. She hadn't the benefit of a car horn, so she settled on the offering of a silent wish of relief for those so much less fortunate than herself. That kind of benevolence came easily. She was headed out of the city for a time. The thirty-four year old, non-profit professional was in dire need of time qway from the front lines of battle. Even though it wasn't the vacation she truly needed, the short business trip was certainly going to give her ample opportunity to clear her head and recharge her batteries. Everything in her life had been on hold for nearly a year and a half. Not that it mattered much. There was little else in her life aside from her work that brought such validation of self and satisfaction. She worked her way through the crawling mass of humanity in the airport terminal mindlessly, as if it were second nature to her. Her pretty eyes careened from scene after scene of tender farewells and long anticipated greetings between lovers. Her mind filled on cue with thoughts of how unsuccessful she had been in that part of her life, at the pursuit of love. The truth of the matter was that when it came to love, she clung steadfastly to the values and the traditional vision of family she had been raised with. She was well aware that most of those values and traditions had long ago fallen by the wayside for the rest of the world around her. Sometimes she wished that she could shed them too. Things…her life…would have been so much easier. It wasn't that she didn't know how to be bad, although her experience was limited. She just didn't know how to do it, and live in peace with herself at the same time. The men she'd met only gave her greater cause to cling stubbornly to her ideals and hopes for something and someone much better. She wanted so badly to fulfill her deepest desires, but only with the right man. It was so very frustrating, but mostly, it saddened her. Especially, at times like this. She walked through the heavy door at the head of the enclosed flight ramp, and let out a tiny sigh of relief. In a little less than two hours, she would arrive in San Antonio. She tried incredibly hard not to think about anything else as the line of passengers inched slowly down the ramp toward the plane. ~~ Constantine Mann settled into a plush, spacious leather seat in First Class, and quickly opened his morning newspaper. That was his usual routine on early morning business flights. He would browse the headlines for a time, have a quick cup of tea, and then, he would try to grab a few needed winks before he reached his destination. Mann was striking, and often times, people were startled at first glance. He was black, and very tall at just a tad over six-foot-six. His head was shaven cleanly to a bald shine, and he was built like a marble god. Even though he sat fully clothed in suit and tie, it was easy to imagine, to visualize, the hard chiseled physique beneath. He was often mistaken for a professional athlete. It always surprised people to learn that he was in fact a corporate executive. It was a very frequent mistake that people made in their initial estimation of him. He had come to understand it, and he had grown accustomed to it. He was breathtakingly handsome. His milk chocolate skin was unblemished. His face was lined just enough to indicate maturity. He had recently celebrated his forty-sixth birthday, but he did not look a day older than thirty-five. Dark sober eyes could cut to the heart of any matter, and a broad easy smile exuded confidence and excitement at the same time. He was very bright, and very articulate. He was easy-going and nurturing in manner, but he could also be steadfast, single-minded, or tenacious when he was required to be. His greatest assets were his infectious sense of humor, and his calm, consistent manner. Both had served him well in his meteoric rise to the top rung of his corporation's ladder. He had served at the helm of the communications conglomerate for more than ten years, and he had enjoyed every single moment--the successes, and the failures. He had been married once, but it had ended disastrously. He let the corporate world take over from there, and in time, he'd forgotten her. He had dated frequently since his divorce, but he wasn't certain that he wanted to venture down the path of love a second time. An ex-wife becomes ancient history with enough time and enough practice, but the pain associated with losing love lingers on for a very long time. Mann had just drifted off into restful sleep, when the pretty flight attendant tapped his shoulder gently. His eyes snapped open, and he raised his head lazily until he stared into the pretty, sympathetic face. The woman apologized politely for awakening him, informed him that the flight would arrive in the city of San Antonio shortly, and instructed him to fasten his seat belt for the landing. The black executive nodded slightly, and complied. He took a deep breath, stretched, and stared out the small window into the stark white sunlight of morning. Somewhere below him was San Antonio, the River Walk City. He had always enjoyed his visits, and he was looking forward to this one. ***** The limousine ride to the hotel was a short one, but it was long enough for Mann to check in with his office, get a sense of how things were going without his presence, and leave a few important instructions with his secretary. He got the sense that all was going well. That meant that he could focus solely on the business at hand. It also meant that he could consider the possibility of taking a little R&R once his business was completed. That was his intent. The River Walk Hyatt was a mammoth stone and glass building, with cascading fountains and flowing streams running throughout its entire lobby, and smelled heavily of chlorine. It was always crowded with tourists or conference participants, or both, but Mann liked it because of its locale. It was right on the Walk where shops and restaurants were in abundance. It was also a very short distance from one of his most favorite historical sites, The Alamo. The primary reason that Texas was Texas at all. Mann was quite a history buff, and a firm believer that knowledge of the past was key to understanding the future. He also held a profound appreciation for those throughout American history that had displayed heroism, and he greatly admired the courage, the conviction, and the daring deeds of the old mission's defenders in the face of certain death. He stopped at the hotel desk, but was quickly en route to his room, with his own bags in tow. It wasn't that he was cheap, but he really didn't believe in asking others to do the things that he was perfectly capable of doing himself, even if it was their job. He handed a folded five-dollar bill to the bell cap that approached him pleasantly. "I've got it, thanks," he winked, and moved on the elevators. "Thank you, sir," the young bell cap smiled, and tucked the money in his pocket. Mann entered the glass elevator after a short wait. He pressed the button for the tenth floor just moments before he heard the soft, but urgent call. "Hold the elevator, please!" He slung his garment bag into the path of the closing door, and it slid open again. He nodded politely at the tall slender woman who stepped into view. The woman responded with a very clear look of uneasiness, and a long moment of indecision. The black man pulled the bag back to his side calmly, and found a sober smile to offer. "It's certainly big enough for the two of us," he said pleasantly after a few moments. The woman flashed a sudden look of embarrassment. She stepped into the elevator almost immediately, dropping her eyes to the carpeted floor beneath her feet. Mann smiled ironically as the elevator door slid shut, and the car ascended smoothly. He studied the woman silently. Her facial features were soft and delicate and dark. Expressive crystal-blue eyes stood out prominently on an appealing face. Shoulder-length brown hair framed that face perfectly. She stood nearly five feet-ten inches. Her bare legs were both slender and shapely, and very long. Her outward manner was very close to shy. Mann's eyes darted to the lighted panel above the elevator door and the floor numbers that flashed as the car rose, but inevitably, they were drawn back to her. When the door opened on the tenth floor, the woman forced herself to move calmly for the exit. It took everything she had. Mann waited patiently, not wanting to upset the fragile balance of coexistence between them. It surprised him when she turned back to him. "It's big enough for the two of us, don't you think?" she asked, practically imitating his calm demeanor. Instead of duplicating her display of embarrassment, Mann laughed heartily. It was deep and it was genuine. It startled the woman, but she quickly decided that it was becoming. "Indeed," he agreed with a hard nod. He pushed away from the wall at the back of the elevator, and stepped out onto the floor. There was silence between them until the elevator doors closed, leaving them alone in the hallway. The pretty woman finally nodded a silent farewell. "Likewise," Mann said softly. She scolded herself briefly for the blunder she'd made on the ground floor, but she couldn't help being a little pleased with the recovery she'd made. It brought a tiny smile to her thin lips. The attractive black man watched her for a moment. Finally, he nodded approval, and walked off in the opposite direction. He thought of first impressions. Most often, they were everything, but, then, there were those times when they didn't mean a damn thing at all. Their awkward encounter had been one of those times. ***** The following morning brought the year's first heat wave, and it was nothing short of stifling. Mann didn't have a lot of time to think about it. A day of lengthy meetings kept him completely occupied. At the end of the day though, he was extremely pleased at how well business had gone. It was looking as if he would be able to wrap things up ahead of schedule, and have a little time to himself. That brought on thoughts of the pretty woman in the elevator. The temperature didn't drop a single degree when the sun fell from the sky. The air was thick, hard to swallow, and no matter how very still you were, sweat trickled freely. It was one of those evenings when relief just wouldn't come. Mann took his meal alone on the patio of a River Walk cafe. The horrid weather had taken his appetite, so he settled for a simple salad and beer. The patio was crowded. That was a usual occurrence on the River Walk. Mann had selected a small table at the back edge of the patio, one that availed him a clean view of the entire dining area. He was a real "people watcher" when he was alone. Tourists offered such interesting entertainment when they weren't aware that they were actually the center of attention. He noticed the tall pretty woman almost immediately when she stepped onto the patio, and waited to be seated. She was dressed smartly in baggy khaki cargo shorts, a crisp white cotton shirt, and tan sandals. The handsome black man smiled at his good fortune, and watched her closely, taking in all that she so grudgingly revealed in those moments. It was again clear to him that she felt self-conscious and uncomfortable, but perhaps that was caused by the unfamiliar surroundings. That wasn't so unusual, he thought. He studied deeper and discovered little things that he had missed during their first encounter. For instance, he recognized the subtle innocence in her demeanor. He also noticed that she worked at being inconspicuous. Even in casual dress, she had gone to great lengths to conceal herself from eyes that might be watching, and she had picked colors that no one would really notice. Most men missed those kinds of things about her. Mann looked deeper still, and quickly put his finger on the essence of her being. There was a certain splendor in woman who is built for, meant for motherhood. Therefore, marriage would be central in her thinking. The two most definitely went hand in hand, and he guessed with certainty that she was not the type to accept one without the other. When she finally noticed him, he offered a cordial nod. The woman blinked hard, and finally smiled shyly. Mann beckoned her to join him. She was slow to accept his invitation, but, upon making her final decision, she snaked her way across the patio, and stopped before his table. "Immersed in the vastness of uncertainty and unfamiliarity, and your first degree of comfort comes at the sight of a total stranger," Mann smiled easily. "…Will you join me?" "Thank you," the pretty woman said, but remained where she stood. "I…I want to apologize for…the elevator…yesterday." "Personally, I think you recovered quite well," the black man said with a slight chuckle that was friendly. "Don't make fun of me," she pleaded quickly. "I'm being serious here." "I can tell," Mann said in earnest, and let his smile dull away. "Look, it was just a moment. I wouldn't beat myself up over it." "But, …it wasn't your mistake," she said flatly. "All right, if it's that important to you, why don't we just begin again?" he offered. The woman nodded slowly, and forced a tentative little smile. Still, she did not move from where she stood. "Good," Mann grinned. "Now, we can begin as soon as you sit down." The pretty woman managed a soft chuckle as she took the chair across from him. It was laced heavily with embarrassment or maybe frustration. Mann wasn't certain of which, but it came honestly, so he didn't mind. He guessed that she was a cautious woman, but she had not truly mastered the art of controlling her emotions. That meant that there would always be a level of honesty at the core of her actions and words. The waiter came to the table right away. She ordered a small salad and beer indecisively. Mann intervened, asking for the café's best bottle of wine, cheese or fruit, and bread instead. The young waiter jotted it down and hurried off. He and the woman made small talk of sorts until the waiter returned with the platter of bread, cheese, wine and glasses. Mann watched her silently through the ritual of the wine sampling and pouring. When the young man walked away, he raised his glass in a silent toast, and took a sip from his glass. The woman did the same. "I'm Michelle Paquin," she said, once she had placed her glass on the table again. "Constantine Mann," the tall black man said with a grin. "…Ok," she chuckled in a much more relaxed manner. "So, what do friends call you?" "Conn," he replied quickly. "Conn…?" she half-questioned, the hint of irony in her tone. "Conn Mann…? Now, that's a red flag for any god-fearing woman." "It requires a little faith and a little trust, perhaps," Mann chuckled. "Hmmmm," Michelle Paquin chimed, and focused in on him for the first time. "…I need you to understand about yesterday." Mann nodded and looked down to his wineglass. "I understand that I made you very nervous, very uneasy," he replied softly. "Men in general make me nervous and uneasy," she said seriously. "It's not just you. …I will admit that you caught me by surprise, though." "I see," he said, without looking up from the glass before him. "You're impressive, imposing, and attractive, all at the same time," she continued. "It kind of takes your breath away." Mann only nodded. "Anyway, I'm really sorry," she said. "I believe you," he smiled. "Tell me why men make you nervous." Her blue eyes went dull and hollow as she searched for her response, and the way in which to explain it all to him. Finally, she just gave up, and pulled herself away from the thoughts that raced in her head. "Maybe it's just the differences between us," she said softly. "I've just never had a lot of luck with men, that's all." "Why is that do you think?" Mann questioned calmly. "Maybe I just want what no one man can offer," she said quickly, dropping her eyes to the table. "And, that is?" he coaxed gently." His eyes were there on hers when she looked up suddenly. They were alert, and they were attentive. His gaze triggered a deep and sudden connection between them. It was almost magnetic. Nothing could disrupt or break the flow of that current. Michelle Paquin's honesty poured forth freely. "I want thunder… and… I want roses," she said calmly, decisively. "One man who understands the importance of each. Know what I mean?" Mann nodded slightly, his dark eyes locked on hers, and he waited for her to go on. "Something to be trusted, depended on, and yet, uncontrollable and unpredictable," she continued. "That's what I want. Is that too much to ask?" "I don't think so," the black man chimed seriously. "And, you shall have it, I'm sure." "Are you always so certain of things, Mr. Mann?" she asked slowly as if tiring slightly. "I don't know that I believe in certainty, but I do try to keep a positive outlook on things," Mann winked playfully. "I really think I like that," she said with a confidence that energized her smile. "Tell me about you…." For the next hour and a half, they sat in mesmerized conversation, discussing life, personal philosophies, work, and love over the bread and cheese and two bottles of wine. It all came easy, and it was pleasurable. Michelle Paquin learned that Mann was bright, witty, serious, and yet sensitive, truly no different from any other of her lifelong friends. Mann learned that she was as bright, funny, passionate, and thoughtful, and most certainly not as ill at ease as she had initially appeared. They could have talked for hours, but the faint beat of Caribbean rhythms from the River Walk caught the woman's attention. Her eyes brightened excitably. "Ohhhh, I love Reggae music," she said quickly, before looking in the direction of the sound. "Do you dance, Mr. Mann?" Mann hunched his shoulders slightly when she looked over at him again. He first thought was of the horrid weather and the possibility of sweating even more than he already had. There was nothing to be done about the weather. He could let it stop them, or he could ignore it. He flashed a bright smile. Thunder & Roses "Not for a very long time," he said, and looked off in the direction of the lively music. "Let's try it," she said quickly. The tall black man motioned to the young waiter, who brought the check to the table. In several minutes, he and the pretty woman were on their way toward the funky calypso sound that rose from the opposite side of the river. She led the way anxiously, pulling him along by one enormous hand. Still, their pace was only as quick as he would allow. He grinned at the energy she exerted, and the excitement that grew in her as they got closer and closer to their destination. ***** The club was huge. There were three levels to it, and there were dance floors on the first two. All of the walls were black, adding to its vast appearance. Its motif centered on bayou Cajun. Bright colored lights flashed and rolled with the beat of the music that was far too loud to speak above, but far from deafening. The dance floor on the first level was crammed tightly with people. Mann guessed that the crowd was a mixture of locals and tourists who just could not resist the sound of the music. He thought that they would maybe have a little more room on the second dance floor, but Michelle Paquin pushed ahead before he could suggest it. He followed as they crawled, a step at a time, to the center of the dance floor. She stopped there, turned back to him, and began to move with the music. The tall attractive black man marveled at her. At the way she moved so easily in perfect rhythm with the music, and at the sudden sparkle in her blue eyes. She was completely at ease. Raising her arms above her head, she spun slowly before him in the confined space. Her dance was exciting, alluring, and downright sexy. He looked her up and down, wondering how such a careful woman exhibited such pure sexual energy. There was a sudden surge of heat in his loins, and his cock flinched, awakening with his rising desire. He just winked quickly, raised his arms high above his head, and he began to dance. Michelle Paquin smiled her approval. In no time, they were lost in the rhythm of the music, and the excitement of one another. The dance floor was like a sauna, heated naturally by the mass of moving flesh packed so tightly together. Sweat poured from their bodies, drenching their clothes. Mann unbuttoned two additional buttons on his shirt, and looked to see his attractive dance partner moving closer to him. She raised her hands to his face. Long gentle fingers brushed the beats of sweat away. Next, the hands went inside his shirt, and rested firmly against his broad, firm chest. Wondrous blue eyes looked into his before falling to the smooth black skin beneath the hands. They just stared. Mann snaked a long powerful arm about the woman's waist, and pulled her to him so forcefully that the breath sprang from her lungs. Instantly she felt dizzy as the hardness of his body pressed into her. She looked up into the pools of darkness that were his eyes again. They were focused squarely upon her, and she lost all train of thought. Suddenly, nothing in the entire world mattered to her, except the tall powerful man who held her so tightly. She had never felt so completely overwhelmed, yet so completely safe. She lowered her eyes to his chest again. She pressed her lips to the skin, and kissed gently. She parted her soft lips slightly, and tasted the saltiness of his sweat, felt the soothing warmth that radiated from him. They danced on together in perfect rhythm as the crowd pushed in around them, swallowing them completely. ***** Michelle Paquin awakened long after sunrise, the following morning. She felt rested and completely at ease. She could smell Mann on her skin, and her thoughts quickly settled on him. She lingered in bed, reminiscing on their evening together, and avoiding the shower that would wash the scent of him from her completely. She stretched under the sheets, clamping her legs tightly together. That was all it took to trigger her desire. She flexed her thigh muscles several times, applying pressure to her excited little clitoris. She could have gone on teasing herself, but she was in need of relief. She spread her legs slightly, slid eager fingers to the little button, and massaged it gently. She threw the sheets back, and raised her knees. The fingers gathered the tips of her fleshy pussy lips, and tugged repeatedly at a fairly rapid pace. "Oh, god," she groaned, and inched up the bed until her back rested against the headboard. She stared at the fingers at work between her legs, and she couldn't help thinking of the handsome black man, and what she wished he had done to her. She slid two fingers into her pussy as if to quench a sudden fire. The fingers probed deeply, and her hips jerked rhythmically around them. She pulled them from her quivering depths. They were soaked, glistening with her thick vaginal fluid. Strands of it stretched from pussy like the silken strands of a spider's web. She clamped the two fingers to her hardened clit, and stroked frantically. Within moments, her body stiffened under the intense orgasm that peaked abruptly within her. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she breathed, and began bucking beneath the release of her orgasm. The fingers dove deeply again, and she fingered herself madly through the first intense waves of pleasure. Her body shivered and shook wildly. She rolled to one side, keeping her upper leg raised, and let the fingers continue thrusting. Finally, she clamped her legs together tightly, unable to withstand the intensity of her orgasms. Her trembling thighs held the fingers in place as the sensations ebbed. She could feel the slick stickiness of cum that had flowed out onto her thighs. "Mmmmmmmmm," she groaned softly. The pretty woman lay still, and pondered her sudden attraction for the black man. It went against all she had been taught. He went against all that she had come to believe, but he brought her a sense of anticipation and excitement that she had never before experienced. Her racing thoughts were interrupted by a firm knock at the door. She sprang to her feet, and rushed to it, slipping into her robe as she went. "Yes?" she called as she reached the door. "Room service, Ms. Paquin," came a pleasant voice from the hallway. She opened the door to see the tall skinny bellman standing behind the cart of food. He smiled pleasantly, as if he were aware of something that she was not. "Your breakfast, ma'am," the man said. "Where would you like it?" "Beside the bed is fine," the woman replied, a bit surprised. The bellman followed her inside, pushing the cart to the side of the bed. He turned to see the woman holding out her hand; in it, was a handsome tip. "It's already been taken care of, ma'am," he smiled. "Enjoy your meal." The man left the room, closing the door behind him. The woman put the money down on the dresser, and walked to the cart. The first thing she noticed was the single red rose, its stem folded carefully into the crisp white linen napkin. There was a folded note beneath it. She lifted the napkin from the tray, and looked at the rose. The bud was fresh, perfect in form. She raised it to her nose, and smiled at the thoughtfulness. She turned her attention to the tray again, curious about what had been ordered for her. Juice and a pot of coffee were the ideal beginning. There was fresh fruit, sliced decoratively, and placed in a delicate crystal bowl. On the oversized plate in the center of the tray was a Belgian waffle, smothered with strawberries and whipped cream, and crisp bacon. The surprised woman sat down hard on the side of the bed as if her legs had given way. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She slipped the note from the napkin, and read it. "Thunder and Roses" Trusted, depended on … meant to be. Dinner at 8:00 Enjoy, Conn She felt the rapid pulsing of her heart. She climbed back into bed, pulled the covers up, and started on her meal. From time to time, she stared down at the rose and open note on the bedspread beside her, and her entire being smiled. ***** Her anticipation mounted as the day progressed. It was at fever pitch when she sat down to dinner with Mann. He had selected a little out-of-the-way restaurant a few blocks from the hotel and River Walk. It was far less crowded, and a little dark, but candlelight added to the intimate feel. It was the perfect place for romance. Michelle Paquin and Mann sat side by side. She longed for his touch, but as always, he was the perfect gentleman. Their interaction was free and easy. The overall mood was familiar and playful. Conversation centered on their professions. The woman learned that Mann too had journeyed to San Antonio from the DC area. It made her smile. After dinner, they took a leisurely walk by the river on a part of the Walk that was far less traveled, and dimly lit. The night was hot. The air was barely breathable. The woman walked close. Mann could smell the faint scent of her perfume. It excited him, but he was committed to moving at the pace she set. They walked in silence for some time before she chuckled softly to herself. Mann smiled, but his eyes remained fastened to the walkway. "What's funny?" he asked softly. "Do you always spoil a woman so?" she asked curiously. "Is that a complaint?" he asked with a grin. "No, not at all," the woman replied quickly. "…It's my job," he said. "It's every man's job." "And, listening so closely to what she says?" she continued questioning. "Most definitely," he said matter-of-factly, and winked at her. "My," she said, looking into his eyes briefly before shyness gripped her. "… …What's most important to you, Conn?" she inquired, after several moments of silence between them. "Remaining true to myself," he said instantly, allowing no time for thought. "Coming through for those who depend on me. Loving the right woman completely." "Are you really that noble?" she asked in wonderment. "A man's only got three things in this entire world that matter," he replied. "Himself, his friends, and the woman who loves him." "…Have you found her?" she asked softly, almost holding her breath as she awaited his reply. "I'm working on it," he said with a slight nod. She stopped, and turned to him. There was a bit of distance between them, but he could still feel her heat. "Are you," she asked softly in earnest. "Yes…, I am," he said softly, and offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation, and glided the short distance into his arms. It was as smooth as a practiced dance step. Their lips locked in a feverish kiss of dancing tongues. The woman sighed deeply from her throat as she clutched frantically at him, seemingly trying to climb his massive frame. Mann jammed a hard muscular thigh between her legs, and she tore her mouth from his suddenly. She threw her head back, and moaned out. She rode the stone-like muscle slowly, exciting herself. Finally, she looked at him, her eyes glazed with passion. "Take me back to the hotel," she breathed softly. "…You do know that…," he began carefully. "Yes… …, I know," she replied quickly, pushing from his arms, and tugging at his big hand. When Mann began walking again, the woman fell in step with him, one arm wrapped securely around his. Mann's room was closest. The pretty woman led the way inside, and he followed. He flicked on the wall switch, and the lamps on both sides of the bed lit the room as the door slammed shut behind him. The woman quickly reversed her path, stepped by him, and switching off the lights again. When his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, he found her. She stood against the door. The bright stream of light that crept beneath it silhouetted her shapely legs. She did not move or utter a word. There was only the faint sound of her breathing on the silence that engulfed them. "… …Second thoughts?" he asked softly in a deep rich tone that was extremely sexy. "…No," she replied after a brief pause. "…Come here." He moved carefully in the darkness. Her hands went around one tightly muscled arm, and guided him the remaining distance to her. Their lips locked together in a long passionate kiss. It was slow and deep. Her body yielded completely on the heels of it. Her long supple legs slipped open willingly, and Mann slid his rock hard thigh between them again. The woman began to slide the hardness of her pubic bone along it slowly. She felt his big strong hands on her soft ass cheeks, pulling her forcefully against the thigh. Her panties were soggy from the abundance of her sexual flow in no time. Her pussy tingled. It ached, and she instinctively reached for Mann's cock. He was quicker. His hand dove between her thighs, slid up her dress and a single finger plunged into her deeply without warning. The flimsy cloth of her panties sank into her pussy with it. Michelle Paquin froze where she stood. She did not breathe for a long moment. She felt the long stiff digit wiggle gently, and she gasped. She raised her hands to his neck, and clasped her fingers together behind it. She tilted her head forward, and rested her forehead against his sturdy chin. The finger retreated slowly, but very suddenly, it pushed deep again. Her mouth fell open wide, and she began to pant softly, but erratically. Her inner muscles contracted wildly, and she started to shiver violently. She pushed the hand from her convulsing hole, crammed it into her panties, and moaned deeply as it plunged into her again. She wrapped her arms firmly around Mann's neck, dropped her head to his shoulder, and let him finger her at will. She had never felt such power. She had never felt anything so deeply inside her. Mann's fingers worked expertly while his lips and tongue set the woman on fire. He teased her, brought her the verge of orgasmic bliss, and her tortured clit grew steadily in the palm of his hand. Suddenly, he applied steady pressure to the fleshy little trigger. The woman groaned deeply and shivered. When he stabbed her with the finger again, her orgasm exploded violently, and she screamed out against his chest. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh…oooooooooo!" she screamed as her body lurched uncontrollably. "Oooooooh, Conn, please." She pushed at his wrist until she dislodged the finger from her overworked pussy. She collapsed to her knees, and struggled to catch her breath. She buried her face into the crotch of his slacks, and nuzzled the flaccid cock beneath the material. It began to come to life. She quickly unfastened his pant, reached inside his boxers, and gripped his stiffening cock. It was warm and alive in her hand. She gasped softly as it jerked suddenly. She worked it from its confines carefully, and stared at it. Even in the blackness of the room, she was aware of its enormous mass. It still dangled slightly under its tremendous heft, and she was certain that it was at least ten inches in length. It ffascinated her and it excited her and it frightened her. Still, she wanted nothing more at that very moment than to feel it pushing into her mouth. Her fingers gripped it, and began stroking its length gently. As it grew and hardened, so did her excitement. She slid her free hand into her panties, and fingered her bloated clit. She closed her eyes and pushed her face forward. The sweet sticky precum that oozed abundantly soaked her lips at first touch. She opened her mouth, and let the slick black head push into her mouth. Her jaws stretched until they ached, and only a third of the thick black licorice had been swallowed. Still, the woman sucked persistently. It was impossible to suck him and swallow at the same time. Her saliva spilled out around the thick black shaft, and dripped down his sagging black balls. She felt Mann's powerful hands at her head, holding it firmly in place. His hips began to push at her. He was fucking her mouth, and the thought of that drove her wild. She groaned around the big black log. She pulled her head back suddenly, and took a deep breath. "Don't cum in my mouth," she said huskily, and pushed her lips quickly onto the cock again. Mann only smiled, and kept up his thrusting. He stared down at her. Her eyes shut tight, and her lips stretched obscenely around his pumping cock. His orgasm began to stir. He felt the sperm churning in his balls as the heat surged through his body. He gripped her head tighter, and he pumped his hips faster. The woman knew immediately what was about to happen, and it panicked her. She thumped madly at his hips with her hands, but it did nothing to stop him. The big man stiffened suddenly, and his steaming seed burst into her mouth, filling it with the first gush. She had no choice. She swallowed it with one hard gulp. The sticky goo was coming too fast, in too great a quantity. She coughed, on the verge of choking. Mann let go of her. The second gush of his seed splashed across her lips, angering her instantly. She sprang to her feet. "You bastard!" she yelled, and swung wildly at his face. Mann dodged the blow, and used the momentum of her blow to turn her toward the wall. He pressed his weight against her, and pinned her where she stood. He held her firmly until his orgasm ebbed away. "… …You did that on purpose," she said, her anger still ablaze. "Never ask for anything that you're not truly willing to accept," he said softly, almost soothingly. "… …Tell me what you felt." He had been holding one of her hands above her head to keep her from taking another swing at him. He entwined his fingers with hers, and slid them down until they disappeared under her dress. He stroked at her pussy, forcing her to help. Her body yielded to passion again, and she pushed back into him. "… …Tell me what you felt, Michelle," he whispered, his breath hot at her ear. "…Excited," she breathed heavily. "…Excited beyond belief." She swayed lazily with the expert work of the two hands laboring between her spread legs. Mann turned her quickly, and pressed into her again. This time it was gentle. "And…, how do I taste?" he asked, staring at her cum-soaked lips. "… … …Wonderful," she finally blurted, and pulled his mouth to hers. They kissed passionately, sharing their tongues, and his cum until her lips were clean. Mann then sank to his knees. He pulled the panties slowly down her firm legs, and she stepped out of them. He raised her dress, and gently pressed his lips to the wet, heated folds between her quivering legs. Her inner sensations were overpowering. The powerful black man breathed out onto her, and she tried to push her excited body through the wall at her back. She gave out a soft little gasp as she felt his tongue probing. She could feel the pulse of her own heart. In her throat, and in the hard little knob of her clit. The men she had known in her life had paid mere lip service to the act, but Mann lapped at her as if her pussy spilled life-giving fluid. In the process, he drove her steadily toward pleasure she had never imagined. "Ooooooo, mmmmy god, Conn," she moaned deeply. "…What are you doing to me?" At that moment, her orgasm blasted. She clutched wildly at his head, slung one bare leg over his shoulder, and rode his face, his lips, and his tongue to complete and utter ecstasy. ***** Breakfast had arrived while she hurriedly packed her briefcase. All stress she'd felt until that moment drained instantly. Now, she stood quietly with coffee cup in hand, and stared at the vase of six roses that decorated the food tray. Four perfect red buds surrounded two perfect white buds. The corners of her pretty mouth curled in an appreciative smile before she took a final sip from the cup. A steady hand placed the cup gently on the tray, and slid Mann's note from the neat crease of the napkin. She collected her purse and briefcase, and calmly left the room. Thunder & Roses During the short taxi ride, she read the note. It was short as usual, and filled with meaning. "Thinking of you -- and that makes perfect sense. See you tonight." Conn She folded the note carefully, and slipped it back into her purse. She rode on quietly letting her thoughts take her where they would. First, there were the pangs of guilt at how easily she had let herself be led into the previous night's escapades. Next, came the tinge of uncertainty resulting from Mann's blatant willingness to ignore her wish not to cum in her mouth. Then, came recognition of the level of pure sexual pleasure she had achieved from his strong steady hand and mouth, and the delicate balance between guilt and doubt, and desire crumbled completely. This magnetic black man was like nothing she had ever experienced. She was so at ease with him. She felt appreciated and desired, and she was at total peace when he was near. He kept her questioning and re-evaluating, her beliefs, her values, and her rules. Most of all, he kept her guessing, and that turned her on tremendously. What would he do next? When would he finally plant his big beautiful black cock inside her? She honestly had no idea, but anticipation of the moment was almost heavenly. The familiar twitch between her legs began right on cue. She crossed them casually, and immediately realized that her panties had become damp. She shifted restlessly on the seat, and tried to redirect the course of her thoughts. The dull twitch grew to a gnawing ache, unrelenting, consuming, and it stayed with her throughout the entire day. ***** The evening begged for celebrating the end of business dealings and the victories gained. They recounted the highlights of their day over a fine meal and lots of wine. Mann was more animated than she had ever seen him, and it was near impossible not to be swept up in his enthusiasm. It was clear that he liked winning, but it was also very clear to her that his endeavors were solely for the good of the entire team. That purpose held importance above all else. He downplayed any role he might have had. Instead, highlighting the accomplishments of others. She admired that, and the level of confidence it required. He, in turn, adored the zeal and passion she exhibited for her work. There was confidence and strength and certainty that did not extend to other areas of her life. He saw limitless potential in her, and it brought a smile to his lips. "What?" she asked with curious excitement. He just gave a blank look, and shook his head slowly. He raised his wineglass at her, and took a sip of his wine. The pretty woman focused squarely on him. "Are you for real?" she asked after a solemn moment. "In what sense?" he questioned with a small grin on his lips. "I've never met anyone quite like you," she said. "I mean, there is an altruistic sense in everything you do." "Can you think of a better way?" he asked. "The greatest strengths are gained through service. Trust, admiration, gratitude." "But, you're also kind and gentle and so patient," she continued. "My parents deserve all the credit there," he smiled shyly. "And, your passion, where does that come from?" she asked carefully. "Where do you think it comes from?" he asked. "I don't know," she replied slowly, thinking about it. "It's irresistible, all consuming. Sometimes, it's like I'm dreaming when I'm with you." "Time will tell, I suppose," he said, and gave an assured wink. "Time is almost up," she replied quickly. "Then, maybe we should just enjoy the moments left to us," he reasoned. "I don't think that's enough," she said softly. "Then, you and I, have all the time in the world," he said softly. There was no need to question him farther. She believed and trusted his word. She just nodded. The music from the club rose on the still night air, and the woman's eyes brightened in sudden exhilaration. "Up for a dance?" he asked. She nodded excitedly, and Mann waved for their check. ***** The dance floor became more crowded as the night progressed, and the beat of the music intensified with it. By midnight, it was packed to capacity. There was almost no room to move, and the entire floor was a mass of gyrating limbs. Michelle Paquin was oblivious to those around her. She danced for Mann alone. Her only goal was to entice. The black, spaghetti strapped dress she had chosen for the evening was sexy, and perfect for her purpose. It fell to mid- thigh, and accentuated her breasts, her curves, and her long beautiful legs. Her rich skin glistened with perspiration. Her silken hair had wilted under the warmth of the summer night and the intense body heat from those around her. She pressed against the attractive black man, and came away with pointed nipples that resembled tiny mountain peaks beneath the sheer material of her dress. She covered them in mock embarrassment as she moved in against him again. "See what you do to me," she said, raising on her toes to whisper in his ear. Mann responded by wrapping an arm about her waist, and pulling her close. Suddenly, the woman gasped sharply, and stiffened against him. Mann was puzzled by the odd little look of surprise. "What's the matter?" he asked, with light concern. "I…I think…I've just been goosed," she replied in mild disbelief. "Really," the black man said and chuckled deeply. "Conn," she said urgently. "I'm serious." "I believe you," the black man said, looking to a point beyond her. "…How did it feel?" His words surprised her so that she could not respond. Her body went completely rigid, and he knew that the strange hand was under her dress again. A panicked look replaced one of surprise in her clear blue eyes. Mann pulled her tight. "Don't worry about it, Michelle," he said calmly, staring at her. "A man has his hand up my dress," she began, with a tinge of anger in her voice. "And, you're telling not to worry about it?" "It's a woman, actually," he replied matter-of-factly. "What?" she said softly, in new amazement. "It's a woman," he repeated. "Young, attractive, and rather sexy." He kissed her softly before she could say another word. His tongue slid into her mouth, and probed deeply. He felt the tension drain from her body. Moments later, her arms went around his neck, and she was aware of nothing but his warm soft lips on hers. Mann pulled back slightly, and smiled into her relaxed face. "So, how does it feel," he asked playfully. "I don't believe you," she said in pure amazement. He pecked her lips lightly, and pulled back again. "How does it feel?" he asked again. "Clammy…, soft…, …unsure," she replied slowly, concentrating on the hand between her legs. "No chance that it's going to get me off." "No?" Mann grinned, before he danced her closer to the probing hand. "Enjoying yourself?" she smiled coyly. "I'm not the one with fingers probing my privates," he winked. "…Is she really attractive?" The woman questioned as if trying to envision, or perhaps weakening under the assault of the unfamiliar hand. "Very," Mann said. "She's…younger." "Hmmmmm," she said from a distant place as her eyes fluttered lazily. "Now, you look like you're enjoying yourself," he chuckled. "Isn't that what you want?" she half questioned. "Yes," he whispered before kissing her passionately. The pace of the music slowed, making it easier for the hand to caress and prod. Michelle Paquin rode the black man's hard, muscular thigh and the hand that had slipped beneath her panties to fondle her most private treasure. She kept her mouth close to his ear, and reported every stroke. "It's…at my pussy," she breathed softly. "…Parting the lips…so gently." She held onto him tightly, almost pulling herself into his massive frame. "…It's in…side," she gasped suddenly. "Half way…pushing gently." Her eyes stared into his intently. Her lips parted slightly, and she breathed excitedly through them. "…Oh, thrusting," she gasped harshly. "Hard…and fast." She dropped her forehead to his chest, and panted raggedly. Mann said nothing to interrupt her concentration. He just rode his thigh expertly against her clit from time to time for the added effect. Suddenly, she threw her head back, and stared at him, her eyes wide, and close to wild. "Thrusting hard," she groaned. "Again…, again, again, again…. Oh, god." Mann held her so tightly that she could barely catch her breath. Her feet barely touched the floor. It was like he was offering her as a sexual sacrifice, and she didn't care in the least. All that mattered was the pleasure, the climax that was so very near. "Oooooooo," she grunted softly, and began to shiver. "I'm…going to…. God, I'm…." She buried her mouth to the hardness of his chest to muffle her scream. She jerked wildly in his strong arms until the sensations died away. Finally, she pulled back, and smiled weakly at him. She wiggled until her feet were on the floor again, and then, she kissed him softly. "I'll be right back," she said with a contented, but naughty little smile. She turned, but she wasn't even near ready for the vision her eyes fell upon. Mann had not been totally accurate in his description of the woman. She was attractive all right, but she didn't look a day over sixteen or seventeen. She was of Latin descent, wiry, with sun-bronzed skin, long raven hair, and eyes close to the color of coal. Her breasts were small, and her hips slight. She had a single finger in her mouth and an impish gleam in her sparkling eyes. She removed the finger, and stepped close. Michelle Paquin felt sudden embarrassment. "You taste heavenly," the young woman whispered with a light accent and a husky tone that signaled her maturity. She placed the finger to Michelle Paquin's lips, and traced them slowly. The pretty woman guessed it to be the same finger that had been buried inside her only minutes before. She sucked it slowly between her lips, and sank to the base of it before rising, and letting it go. She managed a smile. "Thank you," she said graciously. "Mmmm, it is your lover who deserves our thanks," the young woman replied. "He is as generous as he is beautiful." "Yes, he is," Michelle Paquin said, and kissed the young woman lightly. "Bye." She turned back to Mann, wrapped her arms around his neck, and began to dance slowly. She studied him carefully, staring until he questioned with his eyes. "…If you don't take me to bed this very minute, you and I are going to have a very serious problem," she said calmly. "You and I are never going to have a serious problem," he said as calmly. He took her hand, and led the way off the dance floor. Even though he ran perfect interference for her, it was still a slow and tedious exercise. When they were finally on the River Walk again, they both broke into laughter. The pretty woman wrapped her arms around one of his, and lay her head against his shoulder. She fell in step matching his slow pace. "…I've never done anything like that before," she said quietly. "No, I'm sure you haven't," Mann replied calmly. "There are things that I've believed in for a very long time, Conn," she continued. "I go against those things when I'm with you." "You should never go against the things you truly believe," he replied. "Not for anyone or anything." "Why did you let that happen?" she asked. "Did you not enjoy it?" he asked. "…Yes, but…, I'm not sure why," she said, torn by indecision. "It was spontaneous and unexpected and pleasurable," he replied. "And, your smile after was all the reason I need." "And, that's all there is to it?" she asked as if understanding it for the first time. "Well, I do believe that I enjoyed it, too," he smiled. "Perhaps it's time for reassessments." "Yes, perhaps," she chuckled slightly. "But, not right this minute." They had reached the hotel, and they went inside laughing as they did. ***** Mann sat down on the side of her bed, and watched her kick off her shoes. He smiled slightly as she walked to him, stepped between his spread knees, and kissed him softly. It led to a second, much more passionate kiss. Their tongues ravaged each other's mouths. Their hands groped frantically. The woman tore her mouth free, and pulled the black man tighter. Her breathing was ragged and heated. "God, I want you so bad it hurts," she said. "Undress for me," Mann whispered. Michelle Paquin turned, and Mann slowly pulled the zipper of her sheer black dress down to the small of her back. He could see the tiny goose bumps rising on her smooth white skin. She spun back, holding the top of her dress against her breasts as the dress straps fell from her shoulders. She backed away from him, moving just out of his long reach before she stopped. Mann stared at her, letting his eyes roam freely up and down her body. "I love the feel of your eyes on me," she said softly. "It makes me tingle so." Mann didn't replied. He just smiled at her, and waited for her to continue. She let the dress fall down her torso, exposing her bare breasts. They were milky white with bright pink areolas and nipples. The nipples rose, hardening immediately. She pushed the dress over her hips, and let it drop to the floor. She tugged her flimsy black panties down her thighs, and let them fall atop the dress. She stepped from them, and stood for Mann to admire. Admire he did. She was solidly built. She was not skinny, nor was she heavy. She was just solid, and that did not even begin to describe her. His eyes began at her neck and throat. It was long and elegant. The muscles tensed nervously. Her pulse beat visibly in her throat. His eyes moved on over the delicate collarbone structure and rather broad shoulders. Her breasts were not large, but they were perfectly formed, and natural. Her nipples were very large. The size of dimes stacked six or seven high, and just as hard. There was a slight girlish paunch to her stomach. Her navel was small and shallow. Her hips flared only slightly, and tapered into firm shapely thighs and calves. The mound between her legs formed a perfect "V". It was plump and mostly baby's bottom smooth. Short brown hair lined only the slit that creased its center. Mann's eyes rose and settled on her face again. They took note of her shy, and somewhat nervous smile. They watched her anxious hands fumble with damp stringy hair. "My hair," she said in mild disappointment. "It must look awful." "You're beautiful," Mann said. "My butt is too big," she replied as she walked toward him. She stepped in between his spread knees again, took his face in both hands, and kissed him. It was long, gathering heat with every passing moment. She felt his big strong hands at the globes of her ass, cupping them, squeezing firmly. There was such heat in them. She pulled her mouth from his, and suddenly felt his lips at one of her nipples. They pulled and squeezed and sucked at the sensitive knots, making her tremble slightly. Her hands rose to his head to pull the mouth closer. His slick tongue bathed the bud and coated it lavishly with saliva. She felt his teeth clamp down lightly, and she felt the tingle in the tip of her clit. Her hips began to rock slowly. The big black man clamped a hand to her vaginal mound as he moved his mouth to the other nipple. He let one finger slide slowly along the folded slit, stopping just beneath her bloated little clit. He felt her jump in anticipation under his touch. He felt her thighs relax and part. He took the opportunity to ram a single finger into her. She threw her head back, and groaned deeply from the pit of her stomach. She lurched backward, and felt Mann's strong arm there to keep her from falling. She felt safe, and she felt deep admiration for the man who could make her feel that way. Mostly, she felt the finger that inched teasingly in and out of her depths. She thought of how she must have looked, totally open for this man, her pussy raining her feminine liquid like a faucet. The first words that came to her mind were "lewd" and "shameful", but she didn't really care one bit. The pretty woman dangled at the edge of fulfillment, and she wanted to fall. She was on the verge of begging, when his tongue and finger inched her over the edge. She stiffened, and shortly thereafter, her hips began to tremble. She felt the finger ramming, and it sent her whole body into a violent shiver. She placed her hand lightly on his, and marveled at the force in which it pushed. It felt heavenly, and her orgasm exploded with unbridled fury. She groaned and grunted through clenched teeth, and bucked wildly. Her legs gave way, but the powerful black man held her in place, and his finger continued ramming her. She came again and again until the finger slowed to a gentle caress. "Ohhhhh, god, Conn," she panted. "… … …My god." "Now, undress me," Mann said hoarsely. She stepped back, and Mann rose to his feet before her. He was so tall and so broad, like a mountain. She could see nothing beyond him. She placed her hands on his muscle-etched biceps, and turned him. She unbuttoned his shirt, eased it from his shoulders, and dropped it to the floor. She pressed herself into the warmth of his back, savoring the feel of his bare skin against hers. Her hands began to roam over his body. They reached around his broadness to caress his stone-like chest. She reached for his nipples, but her reach fell short. He raised his arms slightly, and let her slide her arms around him again. One hand found a nipple. It pinched and pulled excitedly while the nails of the other hand raked repeatedly over the rippled muscles of his stomach. She kissed and licked the smooth skin of his back. "It's not fair," she said softly. "What?" Mann questioned, leaning into her. "For anything to feel this good," she replied, with a sinful little chuckle. Mann said nothing. Michelle Paquin slipped her hand beneath his belted slack, and reached for his cock. She lay her cheek against his back, and breathed heavily in anticipation of the feel. Again, she could not quite reach, and it deeply frustrated her. She freed her hand, and quickly unbuckled the belt. She fumbled a bit with the button on his slacks and the fly, but Mann let her complete the task. Finally, the pants fell to the floor, and he stood naked. "No shorts," she related. "Way too confining," he replied, before he reached behind her, and pulled her tightly to him. One hand gripped his hip, and the other gripped the base of his semi-hard cock. Nearly half of it hung beyond the width of her hand, and he wasn't even fully erect. She panted her excitement, and began stroking its length slowly. It grew steadily under the pumping hand. She reached for the end of it, and the big blunt shiny head. She cupped it in her palm, and rolled her palm as if polishing it. It sprang to full erection, startling her slightly. She released it, and reached lower for his balls. Her fingers stroked and fondled, but it wasn't enough. She turned him quickly, fell to her knees, and stared at the stiff black serpent. She gripped it gingerly, and pushed on it until it rested against his stomach. She stared at the fat balls that hung like twin speed bags in one sack. She placed her mouth to them, kissing and licking. Suddenly, she sucked one into her mouth, and was surprised by the size. It almost filled her mouth. She lathered and licked at the giant orbs until she could take no more. She looked up at him with glistening cheeks and lips, and a gaze that begged him silently. Mann watched her crawl onto the bed, and flip onto her back. She pulled her knees up, and watched as he removed his shoes, socks, and stepped from the pants bunched at his ankles. Her heart began to pound as he crept toward her. She spread her knees, and he slid between them like a hand into a snug glove. The head of his cock slammed against her tight opening, bounded onto her mound, and slid along her clit.