Chapter 3

It was her turn to grin. "Now you're getting it," she said. "John Cameron... smart, charming, genuine, big-hearted..." she paused again, crossed her legs toward me and leaned closer on her couch. "Wild. Insatiable. Loves fine indulgences. Especially women."

"That's not particularly uncommon for someone like me. Banker, lover of good food, fan of travel," I said.

"It is getting late," Kat said, "so let me just be blunt. You see the picture I'm painting, I think. Go home. Sleep on it. Think about it for a day or two. I think you and I could have some fun. But you have to accept my term of total secrecy. You'll come to understand why."

"I understand," I said. "And I don't need to think about it." The possibility was simply too delicious. I had always had a weakness for other men's women. It was my private but favorite indulgence. A luxury like great caviar and Champagne.

"That's flattering," she said.

"As long as you understand I've also got a certain reputation to uphold," I said.

She nodded. "Mutual respect. Mutual discretion. If you stand by your decision, come back here Friday morning. It has to be early. At 3:30 a.m. Don't knock. I'll open the door once. Exactly at 3:30. If you're not here, I'll know you changed your mind."

I smiled. There was no chance of that.

The two nights between Wednesday and Friday passed in a blur. Work had been busy, but it was always busy. I had been working on a couple deals in Europe, which made Kat's 3:30 a.m. schedule easier to accommodate, since there were a lot of early morning calls. I thought a lot about what seemed like it should be a great stroke of luck. Here was the cute local traffic girl, with her pristine image, implying there was a deep, very dark side to her. And she lived a short walk away. The boyfriend aspect didn't bother me. Maybe I was blinded by desire, thinking with my little head. It never worked out that a vague social media infatuation turned into something tangible. The situation with Kat felt different, though.

I contemplated this as I crossed Allen Parkway to Buffalo Bayou Park, wearing jogging clothes. I walked over the pedestrian bridge above Memorial Drive and through the broken gate I had used two nights earlier. This was an unusual tryst--if that's what it would become--to say the least. The unique circumstances sent up my heart rate, and my palms felt damp. I rode the elevator to the twenty-second floor and got out. As I approached apartment 2248, I checked my watch. It was 3:28 a.m.

Halfway down the hall, I stood in front of her door. 3:29 a.m. I took a deep breath and stood firmly, arms at my sides. The door opened. Like the first time, Kat wasn't standing in the doorway. I walked in. She closed the door and smiled at me. "I was looking through the peephole," she said. She wore a shimmering white silk robe that ended mid-thigh and had a neckline that plunged between her breasts. Her hair looked like it was ready for the bright lights of TV. I must have looked dumbstruck.

"We've got thirty minutes," she said. "No bruises. No hickeys. Nothing that might last longer than a day. Hand prints on my ass are just fine." She grinned, then added, "And don't you dare fuck up my hair too badly. I'm on air in an hour-and-a-half."

The first kiss came hot and fast. She dove into me, though she was about a foot shorter than my six-foot-two frame. There was urgency to her lips and tongue. Her hands eagerly went for the front of my gym shorts as mine cupped her ass, which I discovered was a pleasing, firm bubble. Quickly, she got on her knees and pulled down my shorts. "This looks absolutely delicious," Kat said and flicked out her tongue to give the head a lick. She licked the length of it and cupped my balls in her hand. I moaned and sighed, the delicious wet warmth of her mouth impairing my ability to speak. She took my cock in her mouth and let it harden there, then pulled off.

"I fucking love feeling a dick get hard in my mouth," she said. I could only manage a nod.

She sucked me for a few moments more, bringing me to full erection, then got up and gave me eager kisses again while stroking my shaft. "Bedroom," she panted. "We don't have much time."

I followed her. The bedroom's generous view of downtown Houston was breathtaking. The king-sized bed was inviting. She untied her robe and let it drop to the floor. I smiled broadly. This was going to be fun. It was a cheerleader's body. Kat Freely obviously took pride in her appearance. Her legs were taut. Breasts pert and capped by pink nipples that jutted out fiercely. Her thighs showed off her Pilates habit. And that bubble butt. It was as inviting as the beautiful, smooth mound between her legs.

Kat climbed into the bed, and I broke free of my inability to speak. "I have condoms," I said. She shook her head and motioned to me to join her. I kneeled beside the bed, wanting to drink in her entire body. I put my face between her thighs and savored the musky, slightly soapy aroma. She had prepared for me. Her pussy glistened with juice. I took a long lick, from her asshole to the top of her clit. She shuddered. I licked again. She ran her hands through my hair, then pushed my head back.

"We don't have enough time," she said. "Fuck me. Like a whore."

I took the message to heart, not wanting to disappoint. I maneuvered her into doggy style and ran a finger languorously along her soaking slit. Jesus, this was going to be delicious, I thought to myself. I ran my cock head up and down, coating it with her juices. She gasped. Then I inserted the tip. Kat's velvety walls invited more. I sunk myself in fully, giving her a moment to adjust as I bottomed out. Then I began thrusting. It was exquisite. Her cunt played catch-and-release with my cock. It was like finding two pieces at the beginning of a 1,000-piece puzzle that fit together perfectly. I moaned and muttered, "Fuck, you feel good."