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The Price of Passion

An exclusive for DynamicWriters.com

 

By John Safin

 

It was a dark and steamy night. The rain beat lightly on the roof top as I rolled over to find a cool, dry place on the sheets. I opened my eyes briefly to stare into my own reflection in the mirror. That’s when I realized I didn’t know where the hell I was.

With as little movement as possible, I turned my head slightly to get a better view of this strange room. It was too dark for me to get a true image of my surroundings. The street lights that danced through the moving curtains provided enough illumination to see a dresser with a mirror across from the foot of the bed and a closed door next to it. It could lead to a closet as much as an exit. I just didn’t know. The curtains were moving due to the ceiling fan circulating at a rather fast speed. Fast enough to place a welcome chill on my bare shoulder. That is also when I realized I was completely naked under the white cotton sheets.

I looked forward again. I was now awake enough to realize I was facing a full-length mirror that was hanging on another door. This must be the closet and that, as I shot a glance back to the other direction, must be the exit.

Something touched the calf of my left leg. I tensed, but didn’t move any more than a mild flinch. Whatever brushed against my leg felt simultaneously warm and cool…and a bit soft; I think it was a foot.

A woman’s foot…or at least, that’s what I hoped.

I risked a peek over my right shoulder to the other side of the bed knowing that the movement might alert…alert whoever was next to me.

My sigh of relief almost made as much of a tremor as me turning to look when I discovered my bedmate was a woman. By the curves of her silhouette she was definitely a woman. The top sheet was covering her lower body allowing me a better look at her naked back. Her smooth and china doll-perfect back. If this woman had any body fat, it was in all the right places from my point of view. Her long hair flowed down and pooled against the pillow as a stream of oil or a sheen of black silk.

Wonder who she is.

I roll over onto my back. The sheets were not cool and seemed to reflect the heat back against me. The sheets. Might as well…and I look under the sheets. Yup. She’s naked too. I couldn’t quite see her entire figure but saw enough to know she has a very nice ass.

Uh-oh.

The “Black Mamba” was being to awaken. The nearness of this woman’s body, the heat and the entire situation were the charmer for my “snake.”

I lowered the sheet to cover her again. My action, while being the better part of discretion, turned out to be enough movement to cause the woman to stir. She rolled over, placed her arm across my chest and rested her head on my shoulder. Her exhaled breath was hotter than the surrounding air as it blew across my chest. I tilted my head down to get a better view of her facial appearance when her eyes opened staring directly into mine. Eyes that, I thought, twinkled for a moment.

“Hi.” The word hushed from her generous, red lips as a smile grew on her face. Her eyes didn’t waiver from their gaze or blink in the darkened room. “How was your nap?”

“Very refreshing,” was the only response that came to mind. I kept my voice as steady as possible under the circumstances. “I would say a deep sleep. How long have we slept?”

“Only a few hours,” she lowered her head so it was, again, resting on my shoulder. “You have a few more hours until it’s midnight.” Her head snapped up off my shoulder and she was supporting her own weight on her elbow; her other hand hidden under the covers. “You still have time for another go-round,” she squeezed my still-growing member with a mix of subtlety and aggressiveness.

Her touch was electric. Why can’t I remember anything?

“You’re not too tired, are you?” Her grip turned to a caress; fingers tips moving and straying around my hips, legs...and everywhere else. “I bet you forgot our deal.”

What the...! Did I pick-up a hooker?! I’ve never done that before. No matter how drunk, or even when Tonya and I broke up, did I ever buy a whore.

She removed that hand of hers and sat up straighter. “You did forget our deal.”

Her black hair cascaded over her shoulder; the ends touching and brushing the erect tip of her perfectly round and ample breast. I guess if there was ever a woman I would buy this might be the one. She was…was…perfect. No pun intended, but I’ve been screwed out of my hard-earned money. “Okay…you’re gonna tell me that I picked-up a hooker? You can kiss my sweet black ass if you think I’m going to pay you for anything!”

Her laugh was throaty with bared teeth as she leaned her head back to look at the ceiling. A rumble of thunder was heard in the distance. “I guess I took a lot more out of you than planned.”

She swiveled her legs around so her back was to me as she got up from the bed. I was right: She does have a nice booty. She covered her nakedness with a red, silk bathrobe that had been draped over a nearby chair. I was still covered by the sheet that didn’t hide my condition at all. She tied her short robe as she faced the window, “Let me refresh your memory. You were at MacDugan’s practically wallowing in your beer feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve been alone since Tonya left you. When Amanda walked into the bar you couldn’t believe how beautiful she was…or should I say, how beautiful I am.” She slowly paced to the foot of the bed. When Amanda reached her destination, she abruptly pivoted to stare me down, “As I recall, your exact words were ‘I’d give my soul for a naked night with that woman.’ Well…you got your wish.”

A cold anxiety ran through my body.

I watched the glowing eyes of “Amanda” turn red. The bedroom blistered into a hellish crimson. I was now aware that my night of wanton bliss had become an eternal dance with the devil.

------------------

Special thanks to Ken “Doc” Stinson for contributing the first three lines of this story.

About the Author

John Safin has written non-fiction, fiction, humor, and political ravings plus acted as ghost and speech writer for top business leaders.

He has a background in business operations, marketing, public relations, event planning, recruiting, and training.

Originally from Upstate New York, John moved from Glendale, AZ to Carlsbad, NM, which he now calls "home."

www.johnsafin.com

 

 

Sonoran Mirage Anthology

Sonoran Mirage

with contributing author

John Safin

 

 

 

 

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