One Night Stand
Summary: Richard Alpert is in Miami, trying to recruit Juliet Burke, when he finds himself alone in a bar, with hours to kill before his flight is due. Meanwhile, Christina Carter is also in Miami, burying her ex-husband, and trying to drown the bitter memories of their marriage with alcohol. The two meet, find themselves instantly attracted to each other, and then after more alcohol is consumed, make their way back to Richard's hotel room.
Disclaimer: I do not in any way lay claim to any character or location within the LOST Universe, they all belong to ABC and I'm merely borrowing them for this story. This is a not-for-profit fiction. The only profit received is pure entertainment. Original characters of Christina Carter is copyright of wandaXmaximoff, 2007/8.
Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16, with possible strong but non-explicit adult themes, references to violence, and strong coarse language.
Warning: This story contains spoilers from all four current seasons of LOST. If you haven't seen all of season four, I suggest you stop reading now. Additionally, it is essentially porn without a plot, so if that's not your thing, you might want to hit 'back' now!
The views presented within are not necessarily those of the author or the show's cast/ crew/ producers.
I am aware that the character of Christina never existed in the LOST universe and that she is technically intrusive upon the canon of the show. That said, this is not an attempt to adhere to strict canon, though I'll work to keep as close to the show as is possible.
This story basically came from my obsession with Richard Alpert, and needing a creative outlet for that, the following two-shot came about. It's not meant to be one of those deep and meaningful stories that explore the various themes in LOST, but just some light-hearted smut to work on when I had writer's block for my other stories.
Finally,huge thanks go to the wonderful Disco Inferno 1 (User ID: 339498) for beta'ing this story. I love you to death honey (and thanks for letting me paraphrase your A/N again! lol)
It's not very often that I get the opportunity to leave the Island; so when I'm given it, I take full advantage of the situation.
Today, under Ben's orders, I'd been in Miami with the hope of recruiting the fertility doctor, Juliet Burke, who is currently working at the Miami Central University Medical Research Laboratory. As usual, I was posing as a doctor from the fictitious Mittelos Bioscience, with 'our' facilities in Portland, Oregon.
The meeting went worse than expected, with Burke refusing my offered position as head of a team of highly trained people, with independent funding and research freedom, despite her initial intrigue. Finally, she left the meeting in tears, claiming " that her ex-husband Edmund would never let her go" and jokingly adding that short of his getting hit by a bus, she would not be able to leave the University.
I guess having a stranger hit by a bus is something I'll now have to add to my 'to-do list'.
So, I find myself in Miami, with no good news to report back to Ben, hundreds of dollars in my wallet, a five star hotel room for the night, and nothing much to do with myself. Tomorrow, I'll take a plane to Portland, where I'll meet with the submarine that will take me back to the Island. However, I still have a little over twelve hours to kill and 'dirty' money burning a hole in my pocket.
I figure, as it's been years since I've set-foot on American soil, and even longer since I've had a non-work related conversation with someone not from the Island, I might as well make a most of my night of freedom.
After being bored almost to tears in the hotel bar -which may I add resulted in me drinking more than I should in Tequila – I decided to venture out and visit a few bars recommended to me by fellow businessmen in the hotel.
I don't know what I'm looking for, but apparently anything from women looking to hook-up to strippers and prostitutes can be found in Miami. Whores, no matter how 'high-class' they claim to be, have never been my style. However, I'm pained to admit it's been far too long since I was last with a woman.
Living on an undiscovered tropical island, doesn't leave you many options in the way of dating, and that's not to mention our self-imposed refrain from sexual activities due to the Islands strange effects of fertility.
After visiting one God forsaken hole after another, and getting propositioned by no less than four women (one might I add I was sure was a transvestite) I decided to head to one final bar before calling it a night.
I'm not sure what kept me out, maybe it was the boredom and the amount of Ben's money I still had in my pocket (he'd told me to use it to have a 'good time'). Alternatively, it could have been the amount of alcohol I'd consumed, my increasing horniness and the thought of returning to my hotel room alone and jacking-off to badly acted porn, that propelled me to a less than respectable looking joint, aptly named 'Lust'.
I should have known better when the greasy door-man gave me a sly look upon entering what kind of establishment I was going into. In addition, the music, décor and clientèle did nothing to alleviate my fears.
Soft red lights illuminated the dank looking bar, which was occupied by some of the lowest scum I'd ever seen. Most were male, in their late forties, leering over the few scantily clad females that are prancing about in nothing more than swimwear and high-heels, looking like animals on show.
I'm about to turn my back on the hole, and return to the hotel when I finally find what I'm looking for. There she is-the personification of sex. The dim lights illuminate her full figure, and my eyes are immediately drawn to her ass; it's the perfect peach shape. I take in the full plumpness of her butt, before my eyes are drawn up to the chocolate brown curls cascading down her back. Then suddenly, she turns, and I get a good look at her.
As a man, the first things I notice are her pert, moderately sized breasts. From the look of their shape, and the fact that they appear to be more than a modest handful.
I assume they're real, which is surprising in Miami. It certainly doesn't help that she's wearing a tight-fitting, sheer red top, and that I can almost see the nipples through it. Now I'm enticed.
Finally, for fear that she'll notice, I drag my gaze away from them and look at her face. She's pretty, not the usual super-model type you find so frequently in Miami. However, she's got clear blue eyes (lined in liquid black), a cute button nose, and full red lips.
The man at the bar says something, and she throws her head back in laughter. I see flashes of perfect white teeth, and the silvery sound fills the room. Then in an instant, she looks directly at me. Our eyes meet and I can no longer deny the heat rising within my body, simply from looking at her.
Confidently, I walk over and ask what she's drinking.
"Tequila Sunrise, please," she replies in a husky voice, that makes me think both of honey and velvet.
After the bartender presents us both with our cocktails, I perch on the stool besides her. In the light from the bar, I notice she has copper strands in her hair, and I wonder if they're natural.
As opposed to every other woman in this place, she's dressed demurely, in a tight-fitting black pencil skirt, red stilettos and that damn top. The material is gossamer red, and I can see her black bra underneath. Definitely real breasts.
She's wearing little make up (just the eye-liner and red lipstick), but what she has got on accentuates her features perfectly.
As she sips her drink through a straw, her red lips form a pout, and I begin to mentally imagine what she'd look like doing that with her head in my lap. The gesture is so unconscious and seemingly innocent, that the mere image of it begins to drive me wild with desire.
She sips up the last drop, before licking her lips and gently pushing the empty glass across the bar.
"Would you like another one?" I ask, desperate to remain in her company and put Ben's money to good use.
She looks me up and down, her blue eyes lingering on my belt and the top button of my pants, before she replies in that same husky voice, "Yes please."
We're given more drinks, and I notice she's moved her stool closer to my own. Is it me, or is it suddenly getting hot in here?
"So, are you here on business?" she asks, her accent betraying the fact that she's not from around here, but actually the Deep South.
"I suppose you could say that I am," I reply, to which she raises a pencilled eye-brow. "However, I really don't really want to talk about my work. How about you? What draws a Southern belle, like you, to Miami? Wait, let me guess. Vacation home on the beach, right?"
Again, she throws her head back in laughter, "I wish. No, sadly I'm here for a funeral. My husband's last wish was that he was buried in his home city."
I feel both guilty, and foolish for not noticing her golden wedding band sooner.
"I'm sorry," I meekly respond.
"It's ok," she replies, with a wistful look in her eyes. "We'd been divorced for five years before he died. I only came out of respect to his family and to put his two-bit tart in her place."
"Well, whatever the circumstances, death is never a good thing," I say ruefully, remembering the man I have to have killed.
"Believe me, in Cortland's case, it is. The man was a womaniser and a liar, I'm just sorry he didn't die sooner," she replies regretfully, before looking at me with a smile. "But let's not talk about that."
For a moment, I'm taken aback, but then I remember I don't know the circumstances of her failed marriage, and I respect her wish to change the subject.
"So, how long are you in Miami for?" I ask.
"Only the one day – for the funeral – I fly back to Kentucky tomorrow afternoon. Honestly, I'll be glad to get home and back to work. I hate Miami, and everything about it. Give me the whiskey distilling, horse racing, and gambling any day," she replied facetiously. "I miss my cats, and my work."
"What do you do?" I question.
She hesitates for a second, before giving an answer. "I'm a lawyer."
For some reason, I think she's lying, though why she'd make up that she's a lawyer, I don't know.
We fall into a slightly tense silence, as we both finish our drinks, and I again catch her looking at me. However, I cannot read her eyes, and don't know if she's looking at me out of desire or merely boredom.
In the wordless void, I suddenly realize how rude I've been and that I haven't even asked her name. I already know she's a widowed lawyer, from Kentucky, who owns cats, but I neglected to find out the simplest detail about her. No wonder she seems so distracted, what kind of man doesn't even ask a woman's name?
Then it dawns on me that she hasn't asked for mine either. What was I thinking? She isn't interested in me; she's grieving and just wants some company. What does it matter if I know her name? It's not like I'll see her again. Tomorrow she'll go back to Kentucky, and I'll stop being Dr. Richard Alpert, and revert back to Richard, the man who lives on a somewhat deserted island.
Again, I'm distracted by her as she sucks on a straw. What is it about women's made-up lips that's so erotic?
If she keeps this up, I may never find out her name, and just take her back to my room and ravage her.
She brings me back down to earth, and out of my sex-deprived fantasy by announcing that she's going to the restroom. I suggest another round of drinks when she returns.
I watch her peach shaped ass, as she moves across the grimy dance floor. The pencil skirt is so tight, I notice every wiggle as she walks.
In the few minutes that she's away, I notice she's left her purse on the counter. I'm tempted to look inside, maybe find her driver's licence, but my conscience gets the better of me. How would it appear if I was caught looking through her things?
As she makes her way back over to me, she's swaying slightly to the heavy rock music that's playing. Her legs look shapely and almost gazelle like in those red heels.
She elegantly slips back onto the stool besides me, and I'm again unsure if she's inched a little closer. She briefly glances at her purse, before turning her cobalt eyes on me.
"I assume if you're here on business, you're not from around here. So, where are you from?" She asks, as she sips the fresh cocktail I ordered in her absence.
"I work from Portland, Oregon, but I travel around a lot," I tell her, she raises an eyebrow, but I choose not to elaborate any further.
"Well, if you're ever in Kentucky, let me know and I'll give you a tour," she suggests, with a sly grin.
"I'll be sure to do that," I respond, praying Ben's next assignment for me sends me to the 'Bluegrass State'.
"How long are you in Miami for?" she queries.
"Only until tomorrow too," I return. " Then it's back to work for me as well."
"Maybe we could meet for breakfast?" she suggests, her husky voice now has a teasing tone to it.
My mind wonders, and I imagine what she'd look like in the morning, snuggled under the duvet in my hotel room, as I make us both coffee. Then I realize she's waiting for an answer.
"I think I can do breakfast," I say, wondering how she takes her coffee.
"I know this great little place that makes the best Café au lait," she informs me, unknowingly answering that question, so that I'm left contemplating what she'd look like with sleep tousled hair.
Subconsciously, she licks her lips as she sings along to the music playing. Its lyrics are all about sex, and I find it fitting given my current frame of mind. It really is quite tragic that it's been so long, and that I'm feeling so damn horny. I suppose I wouldn't be feeling half as bad if I hadn't drank so much and there wasn't a little siren sitting besides me.
I silently watch as her red lips form the unspoken lyrics of the song, and her head bobs up and down to its rhythm.
Again, I wonder what she'd look like doing that with her head between my legs. She catches me looking at her, and I blush before averting my gaze.
I'm drawn back by her hand on my arm. Her touch burns me, and I feel a spark of desire course through my body.
"So, are you ever going to ask me my name?" she questions facetiously.
"I'm sorry, how rude of me that I never asked you," I respond, hoping I haven't offended her.
"It's Christina, by the way," she offers.
"Nice to meet you, Christina," I reply, extending my hand. "I'm Richard."
"Well, it's good to finally know your name," she giggles.
"Can you tell I don't do this often?" I say, trying desperately to hind my sudden nervousness. I'm unsure why, but finding out her name somehow makes this more real for me. I'm off the Island, sitting in a bar, badly attempting to chat up a virtual stranger and get her into bed.
"What? Come onto widows you hardly know? I should hope not," she jokes.
I blush deeper. Am I really that obvious?
"No, I don't mean that. It's just, well with work...." I trail off, not quite sure what to say. I can't really come out with 'I actually come from an undiscovered tropical island, where we research fertility and I'm just in Miami to recruit someone. I only came to this bar because I was horny and wanted to hook up, and now I'm failing miserably to get you into bed.'
"Don't worry. I don't often come to places like this either and I don't make a habit of flirting with men on the eve of my ex-husband's funeral," she reassures me, with a smile.
So, she is flirting with me. Maybe I am in with a chance after all?
"So, what do you normally do?" I ask.
She looks taken aback, "What, you mean with guys?" she asks, with a blush and I realize the poor timing of my inquiry.
"Sorry," I say shaking my head, and laughing slightly. Christina laughs too, and it makes her blue eyes sparkle playfully. "I meant when you're not working? What do you do to relax?"
"I read, I got to the theatre, I watch movies or take walks in the park. Anything simple really, I like the uncomplicated things in life," she confesses. "How about you?"
Now what do I tell her? 'Oh, I hunt boars, or walk in the jungle', somehow I don't think she'd believe me. That is if she didn't think I was insane.
I hesitate and look deep into her eyes. Why is this sort of thing never easy?
"I like to read too, and go walking. I enjoy cooking as well," I respond. Well, it was kind of true. I do read, and go walking – it's just I walk in the jungle. As for cooking, it might be boar meat, fresh fish or mangos, but I still enjoy doing it.
"You cook?" she inquires, with interest. "Well, I'm disappointed I'll never get to sample that. I love a man who knows how to cook."
I once again picture Christina in bed, while I make her breakfast. I wonder how she likes her eggs?
"Maybe I could cook breakfast for you tomorrow?" I offer. Oh God, what am I thinking? I have nothing to prepare a breakfast with.
"I'd really like that," Christina replies, and her eyes light up.
"Breakfast it is then," I agree, hoping to be cooking for her after a night of passion.
As I order yet another round of drinks -caring less that she hasn't offered to pay for one – I notice that she's moved her stool closer to mine again. Our knees brush and it wrinkles her perfectly ironed skirt a little. I catch a glimpse of sheer stockings and the top of garter suspenders. Has God just brought her here to taunt me?
"Ummm, this is good," Christina says, taking a long sip of the Tequila Sunrise through her straw.
You're not wrong!
"How long have you been in Miami for?" she asks.
"Just two days," I explain. "I flew in last night from Portland and got straight to work. How about you?"
"I've been here for about a week," she reveals. "When I heard the news that Cortland had died, I flew straight over to be with his family and help with the funeral arrangements."
"Are you still close with his family then?" I query, wondering what would bring her out here for seven days, when she'd been divorced from her late husband for five years.
"Yes, very, his younger sister used to be one of my best friends. Even when they found out about the affair, we remained close. It wasn't until the divorce came through and I moved home to Kentucky that we lost touch. It's a shame really, they're lovely people," she sighs.
I again feel guilty. I'm so wrapped up with thoughts of getting her into bed and being distracted by how her breasts rise and fall as she talks, that I neglect to remember that she's only just buried her husband.
"However, life moves on and now that he's dead I can finally end that chapter of my life. Is it selfish that I'm glad he's dead? He spent so many years making me unhappy, that I'm pleased to finally be free of him," she admits, and I notice how she can't meet my gaze suddenly.
"No, not at all," I reassure. "Personally I think it's good of you that you even came, I know I wouldn't have if it were me."
She smiles and touches my arm lightly. Again, it feels like a volt of electricity had just coursed through my body and I wonder if she felt it too?
"So, have you ever been married?" she asks. "I assume you're not because you're chatting me up, but then again you never know with some people."
I laugh at the mere thought of it. In all honestly, if I were married, I wouldn't be here. However, as it happens, I'm not. I've never even come close. Once again it dawns on me that my life really does limit me in the way of romance. True, people on the Island do get together and even marry sometimes. I guess I've just not found the right person yet.
"No, I haven't been," I admit. "I don't think I'm the marrying kind really."
"I don't blame you, it leads to nothing but trouble," she says facetiously. "Although it is a shame not to have regular sex."
She blushes for an instant, but then throws her head back in laughter. I love how she isn't fazed by things most women would run screaming from. I guess that's why I've remained here talking to her for so long; she's honest and seems very carefree. Nothing to me is more appealing that an attractive woman with confidence, who is so sure of herself that nothing bothers her.
This time I'm quite sure she's moved closer to me, because again our knees brush. She fixes her gaze upon me, and without words runs the tip of her shoe up my leg. I wonder if she'd be tempted to keep them on during sex?
"If there's one thing I hate about my work, it's the inability to form lasting relationships," I confess. "It's pretty damn hard to wine and dine a woman when you have to fly out the following day."
Oh Jesus! I've really messed it up now haven't I? How many women are attracted to a man they know it won't last with?
"I don't know I'm sure it'd have its advantages as well. It'd be great to have all of the good stuff from a relationship, but without all the issues that go with it," she ponders, and I again notice that wistful look in her eyes.
My God, could she be any more perfect? I just admit that I don't have time to have a proper relationship and she practically agrees with me.
"I mean, how good would it be to meet someone – say in a bar – go home with them for one night, but then not have to worry about if they're ever going to call you back," she muses, as she stirs the melting ice in the bottom of her glass with straw. Then she seems to catch herself and realize what she said. "God, I'm sorry. You must think I'm some sex-starved loony, carrying on like this."
Again, she laughs. However, this time it isn't the carefree easy laughter, when she threw her head back. It seems tense and she's slightly embarrassed.
You're not the only one! I wanted nothing more than to agree with everything she'd just said, and invite her back to my hotel room. I wonder if she'd accept? Instead, I just settle for buying us both another drink.
"Thanks," she says, taking a long sip, which again made her mouth into a perfect red pout. "You know, you really should let me give you some money for all the drinks you've brought for me tonight."
"Nonsense, what sort of gentleman makes a lady pay for her drinks?" I insist.
"Well, you're very sweet," she says, resting her hand lightly on my thigh and causing me to almost choke on my own drink. "And handsome too."
This time I really did choke.
Christina hands me a napkin, and I sheepishly swallow my drink, before wiping my lips. What must she think of me now?
Her hand lingers in my lap, as she takes the napkin from me and moves up to wipe away a spilt drop from my shirt. However, she doesn't lower her hand, and her fingers play with my top button. Seductively, she undoes it and twists a small amount of my chest hair around her crimson painted finger nail.
I can feel the heat inside me rise and myself suddenly become hard, as her other hand rests gently on my thigh. Slowly, batting her long black eye-lashes, she leans forwards. I feel her deep red lips brush my own and I have to refrain from grabbing her brown curls and pulling her closer to me.
All too soon, the kiss ends and she opens her big blue eyes; her nose just inches from my own.
"I'm sorry, I..." she trails off, biting her lower lip and looking away.
"Christina," I say, lifting her chin and turning her gaze back to me. "You have nothing to say sorry about. I should have known it was too soon after your husband's death."
"No, it's not that," she insists, and takes a deep breath. "I just didn't want you thinking the wrong thing. After everything I said about sex before, well...I didn't want you to think I'm some sort of tart, who just sleeps with the first guys she meets."
And what would be wrong with that? I wonder, although I don't voice it aloud, instead I say, "I don't think that at all. I think you're a damn attractive woman, who shouldn't be afraid to have what she wants."
"What I want?" she ponders aloud, as her hands slowly move up my arms so that she's gently holding my shoulders. Lingeringly, she closes her eyes and this time I can't stop my mouth descending on her own.
Her hands move up into my hair, as I part her lips and force my tongue inside. She playfully sucks on it, before letting her own explore my mouth.
She tastes of orange juice and slightly of alcohol. It's enticing, and I can't help letting my hands run through her curls, until I'm gently pulling at her hair. The action seems to ignite a passion in her and she pushes her body against mine. I can feel her pert breasts press against my chest, and her heart is racing.
Her hands slowly move down from my shoulders, and I feel her undo my top two buttons. Now I'm tipped over the edge, and nothing on God's green earth can stop my hand from slowly moving up her leg and underneath her skirt. She doesn't flinch as I caress the top of her stockings, and gently flick her suspender belt. Instead, she's now clawing at the skin she's exposed on my shoulders, when she opened my shirt.
Ok, enough is enough. I have to get her the hell out of here, before I ravage her on the bar top. Regretfully breaking our embrace, I take her hand and after she grabs her purse and coat, I throw more than enough money for a tip down on the counter, we leave the God forsaken hell hole.
Thankfully, the night is still warm and neither of us regret just holding our jackets. However, we're not as lucky when it comes to finding a cab, and we have to wait a full fifteen minutes.
In the duration of the delay, I'm driven out of my mind with desire and Christina does nothing to help matters by whispering in my ear all that she's going to do to me when we get to my hotel room, then running her tongue seductively along my cheek.
The only thing I can do to quell some of the frustration that's being building inside me all night is grab her ass; its plump peach shape feels even better in my hands.
Finally we jump into a cab and it speeds off in the direction I instruct the driver. Christina is still tearing at my shirt for the duration of the ride, and I know the second we get inside I'm going to rip every article of clothing off her body, so that I can fully examine her superb figure.
I don't even stop to inform the receptionist that I'll be having a guest for the night, and not to wake me with the requested call in the morning.
Instead, we jump straight into the elevator, and much as I'd like to, I refrain from tearing off her clothes here and now.
Kissing her red lips fiercely, I fumble for my hotel key card, and finally manage to get the door unlocked.
We stumble into the room, not giving a second thought to the two jackets and purse we throw onto the floor still embracing passionately.
As I walk us both backwards into the room, Christina slowly undoes my buttons one by one and lets my shirt fall down around my body, exposing the vest I'm wearing underneath it. She gently rakes her fingers into the bare flesh on my shoulders and I almost scream out.
Instead, I unzip her pencil skirt, and the black material floats to the floor. Then I unfasten the buttons running up the back of her sheer red blouse. As that slips to the floor too, I behold her semi-naked form.
She looks incredible in nothing but a black silk bra, matching panties, suspenders and stockings. I'm delighted to notice she's left her red stilettos on too.
With an animal passion, Christina jumps on me and pulls at my jeans. After tugging on my belt, she undoes them and longingly allows them to fall to the ground.
She looks at me impishly, as she appraises my body in only my underwear and vest. I love the expression in her eyes as she stares at me, and the image of her in her underwear causes me to become hard with desire for her.
Christina wraps her arms around my neck, and brushes her lips against mine. Even though the touch is only light and gentle, it causes me to grow harder still.
"Wow, Tiger, someone's pleased to see me," she jokes, as her hands stroke my back.
"Like you wouldn't believe," I whisper, gently biting her tender neck, before taking her in my arms and carrying her to the bed.
Her small, but perfectly proportioned body weighs nothing in my arms and I drop her to the bed with ease.
As she hits it with a small spring, she giggles and I can't help but find the way her mouth curls as she smiles enchanting. I look down at her with a smile, and her doe-eyes meet mine.
I slip onto the bed next to her, and my hands immediately move to fondle her pert breasts. I find the contact through the silk of her bra tantalizing, and I don't remove the garment just yet.
In stead, I kiss her again, but this time with a fervent desire. As I slip my tongue into her mouth, my body shudders from her ravenously devouring of it. All I can do to show her I'm feeling the same enthusiasm, is to allow my hands to wonder down her body, until they're stroking her shapely thighs.
My touch seems to ignite a fire within her, and she arches her back so that our bodies are pressed together. She feels warm and her heart is racing already. As slowly as I can manage, I let my finger run up her thighs and slip under her panties.
At the action, Christina moans and I'm even more titillated. Before I even have time to think how I'm going to rip her underwear off at any second, she rolls us both over, so that her flushed body is now on top of mine and her chocolate coloured curls fall down into my face.
Her hair tickles me, as she presses our bodies even closer together, and she leans down to kiss me again. Her embrace is gentle and playful, as she seductively runs her tongue along my bottom lip.
Then slowly, she rises up, so that her scrumptious little form is nestled directly in my lap and my hard cock is pressed against her peachy ass.
As she rakes her fingers down my chest, I can feel the material tearing slightly under her long nails. Then she lifts the vest up at the hem, lowers her head and licks from my bellybutton upwards as she removes the garment.
As it falls to the ground, she deliberately bites my nipple and a jolt of electricity courses through me from her touch. When she moves her attention to the other nipple, I can contain myself no longer and grab a hold of her head.
Allowing my fingers to run through the voluminous curls, I slowly tease the hair out with my fingers and splay it around her small shoulders. Then, my hand travels down her back, and to the clip of her silky bra. With ease, I unfasten it and allow the garment to fall to the ground.
Her pale breasts are the perfect pertness and size, with little pink nipples like raspberries and I find they're an exact handful.
I prop myself up onto my elbows, and lower my head towards her chest. Her body shudders as I take her modest right breast into my mouth, and bite the hardening nipple. As her hands grip my head, I trail my lips lovingly across the valley of her chest, and suck on her left raspberry like nipple.
Her skin is so soft and taught under my hard teeth, and again I feel her tremble in my embrace, before she rakes her nails down my back once more.
Softly I roll us both over and lie her back on the bed. We stay entangled, as her chocolate curls hit the pillow.
With deliberate remiss, I trail my tongue down her body, from her pert breasts to her tiny bellybutton, and then I pause as I reach her silk panties.
She arches her back, as I remove her underwear, and I grab hold of her ass. It's peachy shape feels supple in my hands.
She kicks off her stilettos, and much to my disappointment allows them to fall to the ground with her suspenders and panties, before looking up at me with a wicked smirk.
"Can't you keep those on?" I ask glancing hopefully at her shoes on the floor.
She grins graciously, before picking up the shoes and slipping them on over her painted red nails.
As she kicks her legs back onto the bed, I devour her thighs and calves with hungry kisses.
As my attention is focused on her shapely legs, she rises up onto her knees and runs feverish kisses down my chest, until she reaches my underwear.
Longingly, she strips off my boxer shorts to leave me completely naked, and I'm more than aware of her staring at my hardening erection.
She looks up at me again impishly, before lowering her head to suck on my cock gently. I tighten my grip on her shoulders, forcing it deeper into her mouth, and I'm feverish to see the red ring her lipstick leaves as it fills her completely.
She takes the full length of it into her mouth, and her actions become more forceful as her lips trail along the shaft.
I almost cry out as I near climax, and she teasingly releases my penis from her mouth. She blows lightly on the head, before moving her attention upwards to meet me with a passionate kiss.
As my mouth devours hers, I push her back onto the pillows once more, intent on returning the favour.
Regretfully ending the embrace, I trail kisses down her tender neck and down her body, until I reach her pert breasts again. They weren't my desired destination, but I can't help but be drawn in by the tender pink nipples.
I take her left breast into my mouth once more, and delight as the nipple becomes hard between my teeth. As Christina's back arches, I move my attention to the right breast, and suck on it with equal reverence.
Then I allow my tongue to trail heated kisses down the whole of her body, noticing for the first time the small ring in her bellybutton.
As I admire her toned stomach, I move down to her shapely legs and lick her supple thighs.
Then I lower my head between the short dark curls between her legs, and find her wet and ready for me.
She quivers, as I find the sensitive nub and caress it with my tongue. She lifts her ass, as my licks become more rapid and her muscles tighten. Just as she grabs my head, and cries out, I stop and look at her teasingly.
I can see the desire and longing in her eyes, and I instantly become hard.
With calculated movements, I move up her shivering body, and enter her. The opening is tight and wet, and the feel of her muscles tightening around my erection almost drive me out of my mind.
As we fall into a natural rhythm, she wraps her long legs around my waist and I feel her stilettos dig into my side. Then with a hard thrust, I enter her fully and she cry out with delight.
Our bodies become sweaty, and our hearts race, as I thrust harder still. I feel her long fingernails clawing at my back, and I moan with pleasure.
As I drive deeper and deeper inside her, I feel her shudder and suppress a cry. The fact that she's enjoying it so much, but holding back only causes my actions to become more frenzied.
Her back arches up off the bed and I grab onto her smooth waist tightly, enjoying the feel of the firm flesh beneth my fingertips. The way her body writhes underneath me only makes my thrusts harder and I can feel myself reaching climax.
With another thrust, I feel her go limp and her whole body quakes with release. I slow my pace a little as she wraps her arms around my neck.
"Oh, Richard," she whispers in my ear.
The sound of her husky voice calling out my name pushes me over the edge, and I spill inside her, releasing months of pent up frustration.
As our breathing slows, I gently roll her over, looking deep into her eyes, as she glows with fulfilment.
We lie in silence for a few minutes, catching our breath and allowing our heart rates to return to a normal pace.
After a few minutes, as I'm dozing off due to the forfillment of being with her, she sits up.
Without words, she slips of the bed, crosses the room and gathers up her purse. Then returning to the bed, she takes out a packet of cigarettes and a silver lighter.
"Would you like one?" she offers, extending the open packet towards me.
"No, thanks, but you go ahead," I reply, allowing my eyes to close for just a second.
I smell smoke, as Christina lights her cigarette and exhales. The scent wafts around me, and I'm momentarly woken from my sex induced slumber.
I open my eyes, and look across at her. Her hair is now beautifully tousled from our romp, and she has an otherworldly about her.
I watch in contented silence, as she takes drags from the cigarette and blows the smoke out in small rings, that fill the air with a light haze.
Finally, she stubbs it out in a small dish besides the bed, and pulls the bedcovers over her naked body. I'm disapointed for a second, at no longer being able to gaze at her shapely figure.
Then suddenly feeling exposed myself, I too snuggle under the second the sheets are over me, she winds her arms around me and rests her head just under my chin. I can feel her heart beating again, but this time it's in a slow, relaxed rhythm.
I allow my fingers to gently caress her curls and pull her closer to me. Then, with my arms still tightly wrapped around her, and her head still beneath my chin, I fall into a deep contented sleep.
The following morning, I awake from the best night's sleep I've ever had, to find Christina still slumbering next to me, her legs curled up under her and one hand reaching across to me.
I can't help the grin that spreads across my face, as I look down on her sleeping form and remember all the wonderful things we did to each other last night.
After pulling on a robe, I pad softly across the room and begin brewing some coffee for both of us. As I pour the steaming liquid into two mugs, I hear Christina wake up, and turn to face her.
She props herself up on her elbows, and I cross the room with the two hot drinks.
Just like in my fantasy of her when we'd been chatting at the bar, Christina's curly hair is sexily, she still looks slightly dazed from just waking up.
"Morning," I say quietly, handing her a drink. "Sleep well?"
"Absolutely," she replies with a grin, taking a sip of the hot liquid. "And you?"
"With someone as beautiful as you sleeping in my arms, of course," I reply smoothly, settling on the bed and kissing her lightly.
Christina blushes at the compliment – which I find absolutely adorable – and turns her head away sheepishly.
"Thank you," she whispers in reply.
I simply nod, and remain silent, as we both sip our coffee.
"So, what time's your flight?" she inquires after a few moments of silence have passed between us.
"Around four," I inform her. "And yours?"
"Half past two."
"Well, seeing as we have a good few hours yet, do you want to get something to eat?"
"That would be nice, although I seem to remember someone promising to cook breakfast for me last night," she reminds me playfully.
I grin and nod my head slowly. "And I'd happily oblige, only the mini-bar doesn't offer much in the way of cooking ingredients."
With another laugh, Christina concedes that I've got a point, and suggests we find a local café instead.
When we've finished our coffee, Christina uses the shower first, and then I take my turn, as she begins to pull on the clothes she was wearing the night before.
Seeing her in the same red blouse that she'd been wearing when we met is a enticing reminder of everything that's happened between us, and the mental image of her stripping it off to reveal her black silk bra causes me to harden, as I step into the shower.
When I return from the washroom, freshly showered and dressed – but still mightily aroused, I find Christina sitting on the bed, idly flipping through a tourist leaflet left by the hotel staff.
The sight of her, dressed almost identically to how she was when she'd lent across the bar and pressed her lips against mine, causes my heart beat to race, and my pants become uncomfortable tight.
Maybe we should forgo breakfast and have an encore performance.
As though our brains are operating on the same wave length, I gaze at Christina, grin fiendishly and cross the room to meet her where she's sitting on the bed.
I push her back, so that she's flat against the covers, and pin her in place and the allow my lips to devour hers.
In mere seconds, Christina has stripped of the clothes she so recently put on, while I rid myself of my own garments too.
Unlike last night, we take out time in our exploration of each other bodies, taking the opportunity to explore parts we may have over looked in our heated desire of the previous night.
Christina kisses me slowly, allowing her tongue to swirl teasingly around my mouth, and I catch a taste of the mouthwash she must have used in the bathroom. The freshness of it is exhilarating, and I find myself becoming even more aroused by the ardent torridness of our embrace.
Finally, however, I can stand the teasing over her no longer, and need to consume Christina more fully than I did the night before.
With swift movements, I push us both further up the bed, and then allow my lips and tongue to trail longingly down her naked body.
When I reach Christina's breasts, I take the left into my mouth, as I knead the other with my palm. Christina shudders with desire, and this only serves to arouse me even more.
The feel of her quivering under my touch, and I've tipped over the edge. Abandoning my assault on her breasts, I slowly work my tongue down Christina's body and to her shapely thighs.
Cheekily, I bit the soft skin there, and then gently insert a finger into her already wet opening, feeling Christina's muscles tighten around me.
With deliberate slowness, I pump my finger inside her, gradually increasing the pace, as well as adding another digit.
As my actions become more frenzied still, a low moan escapes Christina's lips, and her thighs clamp around my shoulders, causing my own desire to be brought to breaking point.
I stop momentarily and gaze hungrily at Christina, imagining in perfect detail what I'm going to do to her next.. Then, with a wild smile, I lower my head, and claim her lips with my own.
Again we join in a frantic embrace, and I feel Christina's nails raking down my back, telling me she's more than willing for what I've got planned for her.
I grab Christina's waist gently and pull her into a sitting position. Then, as gently as possible, I turn her around so that she's now on all fours in front of me.
As her head hits the pillow, I divert from my original plan and am suddenly hit with an enticing idea - to spank her butt.
The swat causes Christina to cry out and I feel my erection hardening even more. Unable to resist the delicious temptation to slap her ass again, I do so, and relish the way the flesh quivers under my touch.
Then, when I'm hoping she'll least expect it, I swiftly enter Christina from behind, and force my full hardness into her tight opening.
The feel of her inner muscles clamping around my shaft pushes me to the brink of my desire, and I know I'm going to spill inside her at any moment.
Not that Christina seems to mind, as she's now writhing against my thrusts and calling out my name without restraint.
The sound of her begging for more, as I plunge in deeper still brings my own release, and with another swat on her butt, I shoot my load inside of her.
When our heart rates finally return to normal, I move up the bed and rest my hands behind my head, as Christina turns around and comes to recline besides me.
I gaze at her, and relish the post sex glow her face has taken on, then sigh contently.
"That was some breakfast," she comments with a grin.
I smile back at her in reply, and then say, "I don't think I've ever worked up such a sweat."
Later that day, I'm on a plane back to Portland, Oregon, where a submarine will take me to the Island and life as I know it.
I refrain from watching the in-flight movie, and don't even think of what inane tasks Ben will have for me when I return. All I can think about is the Southern Belle, who brought out the type of lust in me that I thought I'd lost in my long ago youth.
I know I'll probably never be lucky enough to meet someone like Christina again, but I'm sure the memories of our erotic encounter will keep me stimulated for many a lonely, hot night on the Island.
The only hope I have now is that she'll feel the same way....