Chapter 8: Florida and 23rd Birthday

Cynthia reached for my hand as soon as we were shown to our seats. I looked over at her and saw that she was staring at our hands on her thigh. The way she was gripping me made me wonder if she was afraid of flying.

"I hope you didn't seat us in first class because of me," she said, still looking at the way our hands were joined.

I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her middle knuckle. "You're a first class lady."

"Thank you," she said, moving my hand back to her thigh.

The flight attendant said there was time for a drink before takeoff since it would take several minutes to load the rest of the plane. I asked for coffee; Cynthia preferred tea.

"Aren't you going to ask what I was thanking you for?"

"The first class seats, I suppose. It wasn't the kiss or my saying you're a first class lady, was it?"

"Thank you for last night."

I looked over at her, not sure what she was referring to. By last night, it couldn't be the two hours in her office, reading Tom's memos and responding to them. Was it later when we were in bed and she'd ask me to get on top of her? As far as I could tell, she hadn't even climaxed.

"Hey!" I said, and watched her head pop up. I smiled and she smiled back.

She released my hand when our drinks arrived. Should I find out the reason she'd thanked me? I had to know, didn't I?

"Were you thanking me for not crushing you with my weight?"

Her reaction was new to me. I'd seen her blush before, but this was more than that. Her entire neck became scarlet and her eyes dilated. "You told me you cared for me."

The flight attendant asked if Cynthia was all right when she came to take our cups. I assured her that it was only something that I'd said, and after giving us a blank stare, she told us make sure we were buckled up.

We were in the air when Cynthia suggested that I tell her about my Friday night meeting with the loan officer at the ice cream shop. I glanced at the other passengers, noted that most of them were wearing headphones or reading before I began.

"Constance Carrillo arrived late and was not sure if she wanted to stay. She turned down my offer of a hot chocolate, but I ordered it for her anyway. She never did unbutton her topcoat and it took thirty minutes to get around to the subject I thought she wanted to discuss. And then, she surprised me by only touching on her first husband, claiming he'd cleaned her bank account out in order to invest in a franchise. By the time she discovered the business was failing, he'd written bad checks on their joint account, causing her to lose her job. The reason she was given for being fired; if she couldn't manage her own finances, how could she be trusted to make sound decisions when making loans to others?

"She was unemployed and in debt when her second husband entered the picture. Hugh, or Hugo as she preferred to call him, was sympathetic. Hugo swept her off her feet and they had been married about three months before she discovered what a brute he could be.

"Once Constance tasted the hot chocolate it seemed to warm her up to me and she related some of Hugo's stranger idiosyncrasies. From the way she described him, this guy was the poster child for weird. She put up with a lot from him, but I'm only going to tell you about one of the things he made her do."

Cynthia's eyes were closed and I wasn't sure if she wanted to hear any more about Constance's second husband or not. She continued to hold my hand for another ten minutes before opening her eyes and asking, "Well?"

"Are you sure you want to hear this?"

She first nodded, and then smiled, nodding vigorously.

"He made her watch him masturbate."

Cynthia's expression was ho hum, like, 'Yeah, so?'

"After he came, he made a sucking sound. He did this several times before she realized that he was trying to duplicate the sound his cock made when it came out of her pussy after sex."

Cynthia laughed so hard that it got me laughing. We made enough noise to disturb the other passengers. Some of them removed their earphones and glared at us, which made us laugh harder. I was enjoying watching Cynthia laugh so much that I added the rest of what Constance had told me.

"Seeing that she was repulsed by his actions, Hugo began making the sound at the most unexpected times. He would do it in public, in a crowded theatre or a restaurant. She said it embarrassed her so much that she stopped going anywhere with him. He started calling her at work and making the sucking sound. She became paranoid, avoided answering her phone. When she refused to have sex with him, he woke her up in the middle of the night and forced her to watch him jack off.

"He did a lot of other disgusting things, but the sucking sound was the worst."

"Are you going to meet with her again?"

Cynthia's disposition was somber, and I couldn't get a reading on whether she was just curious, or if she was daring me to admit that I'd offered to meet the loan officer again.

"I don't know. I gave her my number and offered to see her again. All she said was that I'd been right about the ice cream shop being a clean, well-lighted place."

"If she calls, you'll go?"

Again, I wasn't sure what she was really asking. "Yes, I offered so I can't very well turn her down. Would you like to go with me?"

"Are you going to fuck her?"

This was out of the blue and the way she posed her question surprised me. It also surprised the lady sitting nearest to us. From the way her head popped up I could tell that she wasn't quite sure what she'd heard. I'd learned to decipher what Cynthia was saying and sometimes I forgot that her pronunciation baffled others. I was banking on the lady hearing flock instead of fuck.

"Is that a Collingsworth stone you're wearing?" the lady asked.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and noticed that Cynthia's nipples expanded her white, turtleneck sweater by a quarter of an inch. I wasn't sure what triggered that reaction, the lady's compliment of the stone she was wearing or if she was waiting for an answer to her question from me.

In addition to her nipples protruding, Cynthia was squeezing my hand. "Yes, it is."

The lady was shaking her husband's arm, motioning for him to see the stone. They were about the same age, pushing fifty I judged. The man reluctantly lifted the headphones from his ears and looked in the direction where his wife was pointing.

"It's a Collingsworth cutting," she explained to her husband, and then to us, "She lives in our neighborhood, but we've never seen her up close. We're told that she's a recluse, hides behind smoked windows when she goes out, doesn't socialize with any of the neighbors. That's a unique stone. I don't believe I've seen anything like it before. Do you mind telling me the name and where you found it?"

Cynthia squeezed my hand, and I knew that she was straining to keep from bursting into hysterics.

I was so accustomed to seeing her wear a different pendant almost daily that I hadn't paid attention to the green, oval shaped stone. Cynthia whispered in my ear, and I turned to the couple.

"My wife is an admirer of Ms. Collingsworth's work, too. This Tanzanite stone is only one of many that she owns. I found it in a Denver jewelry store and gave it to her for our third wedding anniversary."

The lady and her husband listened to my explanation and nodded before returning to his music and her book. I didn't care if they believed me or not. Calming Cynthia was my major concern. I'll swear that her nipples had popped out another quarter of an inch since my mention of our third wedding anniversary. We didn't talk more until we were in the car.

The rental car was Ned's idea. It was a seven passenger, and although it would not be roomy enough for our entire party, he could take five or six people and the others could ride with me in what was now known as the Florida car.

This was Cynthia's first trip to Florida, but she didn't seem to notice the scenery. She was paying close attention to me and I was happy to see that her nipples were still showing arousal.

"Promise me that you'll never do that."

Was I supposed to know what she was talking about? Was she asking if I planned to fuck Constance? Or could it be that she wanted to make sure I wouldn't make the sound? I decided to play it safe.

"Of course, I won't."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise," I said, not sure about what I was promising.

Cynthia rested her head and closed her eyes. "Thank you, Darling. I love it when we stay joined until you become soft. I hate that noise when you pull out of me while you're still hard."

Ah, so that's what I'd just promised. "You like it when I stay in you after we've climaxed?"

She opened her eyes and looked over at me, lovingly. "I love it when you stay inside me. I wish that it was possible for us to stay connected all the time."

"Hmmm," I said, thinking I knew where this was leading. I was right. We were no sooner inside the house when she began removing our clothes. I struggled to disarm the security system and then gave in to her. Although she paid no attention to the layout of the rooms, she showed that she remembered what I'd told her about the location of my room. In a matter of minutes, she had me naked and on my back on the bed. She was wearing only the Tanzanite pendant when she straddled my legs with hers.

Her nipples were elongated and her pussy offered no resistance as she settled herself onto my cock.

I listened to her talk and focused my attention on the pendant as she sat upright and slowly moved up and down. There was a look of contentment on her face as she babbled, incoherently, about nothing in particular. From what I could pick up, she was telling herself that she was exercising her privilege and that she was going to make it last as long as she wanted. As far as she was concerned, my cock belonged to her, and she didn't plan to give it up until Sunday, and then only as long as we were on the plane, traveling homeward.

This suited me fine. I let her use me, only slowing her down when I was on the verge of coming. Together, we made it last until the droplets of sweat flowing between her small breasts caught my attention. The heat was stifling and the stench in the room was giving me a headache.

For the first time since we'd started, I trust upward, again and again, until my semen spewed deep within her. Cynthia fell forward, breathless, completely spent. Did I owe her an apology for premature ejaculation?

"Did you?" I whispered.

"Hmmm."

"Are you sure?"

"Many times," she answered in a weak whisper.

As we lay there, sweating profusely, I felt the walls of her pussy contract and release, contract and release, a strong indication that she wasn't finished with me.

The luggage was still in the backseat of the car, along with our coats, and I needed to adjust the thermostat setting, but I honored her wish that we stay connected. Letting our combined sweat commingle on my chest was minor compared to the enjoyment our remaining connected was giving her. She seemed oblivious to the heat in the room as she worked my cock in an effort to revive it. I willed it to shrink and fall out of her opening.

"You're not going to have any excuses tonight," she said.

"What are you talking about? I don't make excuses."

"You slept on your stomach two nights in a row."

"I thought I'd overdone it the night before. Weren't you sore?"

"Did Wanda say that? I was boasting to her about how many times you fucked me on Friday night. All that I said was that you filled me up more than usual. She must have misunderstood me."

"That's too bad that we missed two nights of fun because of a misunderstanding."

"We'll make up for it tonight," she assured me, and then, "Ah," when my cock fell out of its burrow.

We stripped the bed, took a much needed shower, dressed in swimwear, and went outside to test the pool while we waited for the temperature in the house to cool down. I felt cheated by not being able to see Cynthia's breasts, but it was not long before the thin material of her bikini left nothing to the imagination.

"So that's what you were shopping for on Saturday?"

"Do you like it? The sales clerk said you would."

"Very much," I admitted, hoping that she'd brought others that were less revealing. Having John and Suzanne see her in the skimpy swimwear was one thing. She'd only met Ned that morning while we were on our way to the airport, and she would be meeting my mother for the first time. I wasn't concerned about what any of them thought or said as much as I was about Penelope. She was something else.

The kitchen and the refrigerator were well stocked with food. I cooked while Cynthia hung our clothes in the closet. After lunch, I checked my messages. There were three, which kept me busy explaining before, during and after sex.

I guess Cynthia had grown to like being on top where she felt more in control. She got into position, sank down, made sure she was settled, and asked. "What did Sandra Lynch want?"

When I didn't answer, she looked down at me, impatiently waiting for my response.

"Do we have to talk about this right now?"

"Can't you tell me what she wants with you?"

"Cynthia, you have me at a disadvantage. It's hard for me to think when I don't know what you're going to do. You impaled yourself on me, and then I was expecting you to move, but you preferred to ask me a question. It's hard for me to anticipate your movements. It impedes my thinking."

"I'll not move while you collect your thoughts. Now, what did she want?"

"You're moving," I accused her.

"I am not. I'm perfectly still."

"How come the Tanzanite is dancing between your breasts?"

She lifted the pendant and put it between her lips, giving me a 'how's that?' look.

"I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock."

She dropped the pendant from her lips. "I feel your cock pulsating inside me, too, but it doesn't stop me from thinking clearly."

"Okay, she and her brothers are putting another building up for sale and they want to know if the trust is interested in buying it."

"Oh, is that all?" Cynthia asked as she began to move. Other than keeping my cock pointed upright, I did nothing else to assist her efforts. I had to admit that it was enjoyable letting her do the work, although not knowing when she was going to surprise me by exerting maximum effort was disconcerting. I watched the pendant swing between her breasts, thinking only of how it reminded me of a pendulum, when she spoke. "Where is it?"

"Where is it?" I repeated. Didn't she know a pendulum was swinging between her breasts?

"The building?"

Actually, I was thankful for the distraction because I was close and didn't want to be the first one to succumb to release. "Baltimore," I said.