Hot Summer Nights

She met Cameron Wallace the following Saturday evening. He was of average height, with a full but neatly shaped beard, jutting nose and heavy, bushy eyebrows. She was surprised by the wide streaks of silver in his hair and beard and the deep lines in his face. Leslie guessed that he was in his late fifties or early sixties. She had envisioned her dates being young, virile men, men in their thirties and forties, men in their sexual prime, in need of more outlets for their excess sexual energy. She was being well paid, however, so she'd take what came her way. He stood as she approached his table. "Good evening, Leslie," he said, his smile warm and open. "I can't tell you what a pleasure this is."

"Thank you, and it's nice to meet you too." What the hell did one say to a man who's paying to have your company? She felt that it was incumbent upon her to keep the conversation lively. Start with small talk. Think of something clever to say, maybe about the weather.

"It was quite a hot one today," he said, breaking her train of thought.

"Yes, it certainly was." What now? What did she know about him?

"This is really awkward, isn't it?" he said. "Erika told me quite a bit about you. I know that you're really new to this whole thing so I feel it's my responsibility to keep the conversation going; to keep you from feeling too awkward and bolting."

With a smile, she said, "I'm not going to run, and I was just thinking that it was on me to keep things light and interesting."

She could almost feel his deep chuckle. "So here we are, both trying to make small talk." He leaned forward and placed his hands over hers on the table cloth. "Let's get a bottle of wine to grease the wheels and then you can tell me about yourself."

Over glasses of exceptionally good Cabernet, she told him about college, her interest in English Literature and he told her a little about his background. His father had founded a small electronics firm in the early fifties. It had originally made radios but had quickly graduated to more sophisticated products. Eventually the firm got into computers and small devices that controlled other devices. The multi-million dollar company was now his, but he no longer took part in the day to day operations.

It turned out that he was a voracious reader and they had many favorite books and authors in common. They both enjoyed movies and had seen many of the same recent films. Dinner sped by.

"Brandy?" Cameron asked.

"Sure."

"Important point here," Cameron said. "You're not to do things because you think I want you to or that it's the ‘done thing'. Be yourself. That's why I'm paying to be with you. You will have to judge how to behave with other men, but most will be happy if you're comfortable and friendly. Now, once again, brandy?"

"I've never really had any so I'd love to try."

"That's the attitude I want for this evening, all of it."

Over glasses of what she assumed was superior brandy, Cameron said, "This has been a delightful dinner. You'll go far in Erika's business. You're charming, and certainly good to look at."

She was glad he thought so. She'd pulled dress after dress from her closet, and rejected them all. Finally she'd settled on a pair of white linen slacks and a black sleeveless sweater that showed off her ample bosom and long neck. "Thanks. And you're such good company I almost forgot why we're here."

"Does this evening make you nervous?"

She took a deep breath. She had heard his admonishments earlier and didn't pretend to be something she wasn't. "Very."

His grin showed his white teeth. "Good. That's what I like." He signed the credit card receipt and stood. "Let's make you even more nervous." He guided her out of the restaurant and into a taxi. He gave the driver a Park Avenue address, then draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Lesson one," he said, stroking her collar bone with the pad of his index finger. "Never wear slacks on a date. No access." He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh and lightly fingered her crotch. "Men will like to know what they're getting."

"I never thought of that," she said, with a slight catch in her voice. His fingers were doing devilish things to her clit.

"I hope that little hesitation is because I'm making you a little crazy."

In addition to turned on, Leslie felt panicky. "You certainly are. I'm not sure what you want me to be doing in return, however."

"You're not expected to do anything except be who and what you are."

She leaned back against the seat and he leaned over and kissed her long and very well. His hands rested quietly against her thighs while his lips played with hers. His tongue teased the joining of her lips until she opened for him and let his tongue stroke hers.

When he sat back, he whispered, "How do you feel about the cab driver watching what we do?"

She glanced at the driver's eyes in the rear view mirror, clear through the transparent plastic shield between front and back seats. "Honestly?"

"I never want you to be anything but honest."

"I sort of like it. It's exciting to be watched."

"Great," he said, slipping his hand inside her blouse. "Let him watch."

She reveled in the feeling of Cameron's fingers playing with her nipple and through slitted eyelids she watched the driver's eyes. When the taxi stopped at a red light, she reached down and lightly squeezed Cameron's rigid erection as the driver adjusted his rear view mirror so he could watch the proceedings. The light changed but cab moved only when the driver behind honked. Leslie almost giggled. "Watching him?"

"He didn't see the light change," she whispered. "He was so busy watching us."

Cameron covered her hand in his crotch with his. "Watching this, I'm sure."

"Yeah. Let him watch."

Too quickly for all concerned, they arrived at Cameron's building, a very exclusive high rise in a very exclusive neighborhood. He paid the fare and, she saw, included a big tip. "For entertaining us while we entertained him," Cameron said as they entered the marble and crushed velvet lobby. Leslie loved her little apartment in Brooklyn Heights, but this was spectacular. A uniformed concierge said, "Good evening, Mr. Wallace," then walked over and pressed the button to summon the elevator. When it arrived he reached inside and pushed the penthouse button, then backed out. "Have a good night, Mr. Wallace."

"Doesn't that bother you?" When he looked puzzled she said, "He has probably guessed what we're up to."

Leslie loved Cameron's rich laugh. "I hope to hell he's envious."

They rode up in what was really a room, with a small teak table topped by a vase of dried flowers, and two small side chairs. The carpeting was deep gold pile and the walls were upholstered in embossed satin up to the chair rail, then mirrored, not a fingerprint allowed, she was sure. It was all she could do to keep her cool. This was money displayed in a way she'd never dreamed of. Not that she wanted to live with it, but it was beautiful to visit.

The doors opened onto a small vestibule with two doors opening from it. Cameron took his key and opened one of the doors, letting her into his sumptuous apartment. Although Leslie would have loved to look around, Cameron took her in his arms. His lips were soft, yet insistent, and she parted her lips to allow his tongue access. "You're so desirable, Leslie," he purred, "and you turn me on."

The bedroom was as lavishly decorated as the other living areas, but he gave her no time to appreciate the decor. "I want to see you," he said. "Would you undress while I watch?"

Here was her first challenge. Could she do this? She looked into his eyes as he seated himself on the edge of the bed. He was so nice that she wanted to please him so she slowly removed her blouse, glad she'd chosen the pale satin and lace bra and panty set from her company's collection. She'd been modeling for over a year and suddenly understood the desire for luxurious lingerie.

As her slacks fell to the floor Cameron said, "You're as lovely as I thought you'd be. Erika's other customers will love you. Will you use your own name?"

Babbling to cover her nervousness, she said, "I've considered it and I think I'll use Carolynne. It was my best friend's name in elementary school. She spelled it with an ‘e' at the end."

"Come here Carolynne spelled with an ‘e' at the end," he said, "and undress me. I like to watch your hands." He panic slowly lifting, she pulled off his tie and dragged his white shirt from the waist of his slacks. He wore no undershirt so once she'd removed his shirt she could touch his skin. His body looked its age, but, when she'd removed his briefs his need was obvious.

"I want to be inside you," he said, opening the bed table drawer and unrolling a condom over himself.

She stretched out on her back and he climbed over her. She could feel the tip of his turgid erection prodding her to open her legs further. When she did, he pushed into her. She splayed her hands on his back, then slid her palms down to his buttocks. "You feel so good inside of me," she purred, totally honestly. He did feel wonderful. "Do more, just like that."

He did as she'd asked, then, with a few more thrusts he came with a bellow. She didn't climax, and she didn't fake it.

"That was wonderful," he said when he'd regained his breath. "Thank you for everything." He padded to a small refrigerator in the corner of the room and returned with two bottles of ice cold water. He twisted the cap off one and handed it to her then took a long pull from the other. "Exercise always makes me thirsty," he said with waggling eyebrows and she couldn't help but laugh.

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