Carol (Carol Schmidt Series) (16 page)

And a lot of people had been ensnared, always in the name of
justice, the kind of justice that, for one reason or another, was not available
through the normal legal routes. The knowledge that a moral point was being
made with each seduction gave her added satisfaction.
Win-win
. One thing
she had never bargained for, though, was that her unique lifestyle, and the
sexual confidence that made it possible, might itself fall victim to a force
infinitely more powerful, to urges beyond her control.

She had never stopped to consider the possibility that she too might
be seduced.

Back when she had
just turned eighteen, her new life was still ahead of her. Waiting for the
Cardinal at the
Marriot
, having just flown up from Mexico, Carol had no
idea what was in store for her, although she had already worked out that the
Cardinal’s line of work was
way
unusual.

That first day at the hotel, she had eventually made her way down to
the lobby to have a look around, her curiosity getting the better of her, and
the call of Times Square too much to resist.

And there he was.

It was like a scene in some ridiculous romantic movie. As she walked
into the lobby, Jason had just checked in and turned toward the lifts.

He was young, early twenties, with shaggy mid-brown hair. He was
skinny in a tight black T-shirt, and his black jeans were faded to a mid-gray
and frayed at the bottom. He wore rimless glasses, and over his shoulder hung a
large sports bag so heavy that it pulled his whole body lopsided, giving him
the appearance of being younger and weaker than he actually was.

He saw her, checked his step for just a second, then continued toward
her.

“Jeez,” he said, as if they were old friends, “I work in tech and
I’ve never even seen one of these before. They open the door, right?”

In his hand was a plastic room card.

He was bobbing up and down on his heels, clearly hoping that she’d
respond in the same slightly over-confident, grad-school way he had of talking.
And even then, so young and inexperienced, she instinctively knew that it was
all bravado, and that unless she said something to keep his confidence up, he’d
deflate, his gambit punctured irreparably.

“Me too,” she said, opening her eyes and drinking him in. “What ever
happened to keys?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost exploding with relief, as the most gorgeous
girl he had ever seen smiled at him and seemed keen to stop and talk. “It’s
like, there was a
problem
with the key? I mean, as a technology, the key
suddenly
ceased to function
? Or was it that our dirty underwear and fake
leather luggage suddenly needed more protection in our hotel rooms?”

That, more or less, was it. She knew she wanted to take him to bed.
And he, of course, wanted exactly the same thing. What was unusual was that she
managed not only to be coy and reserved, but also to convey the fact that she
wanted him to fuck her.

The deliberately mixed message in her eyes and on her young lips was
something he would never see again, not so perfectly done. Not ever. And over
the years since then he had lain awake at night many times, his wife sleeping
quietly next to him, and thought about the way Carol had looked at him that
afternoon in the hotel lobby.

“So,” she’d said, about ten minutes later, sitting cross-legged on
the carpeted floor of his room and watching the back of his green T-shirt as he
fixed them both a drink from the minibar, “this is, like, a freebie for you?”

“Yeah,” he said, hobbling back over to her on his knees, two small
glasses in his hands. “They’re paying for the trip. Strange Tech. Heard of
them?”

“Nope,” she said, taking a sip.

Some of the older girls at the convent used to smuggle drinks into
the dorms, and would make ridiculously strong
Cuba Libre
cocktails, so
much liquor in them that one glass and they’d be delirious on their beds, or
drooped over the toilet basin.

But Jason had mixed very little
Jack Daniels
into her
Coke
.
She liked that, how he wasn’t trying to get her drunk. Plus, she loved the way
they were sitting on the floor like students, no rush, no urgency, just hanging
out together. On the dresser was a CD player and two mini speakers. He’d put a
Nirvana
disk on. He was cool. She desperately wanted him.

“Strange Tech,” he told her solemnly, as if by simply speaking the
name he was invoking some higher power, “is
the tech behind the tech
.
Every coder in the world wants to work for them, I mean, apart from guys who
are into web design and games and shit like that.” He spat out the words as if
they were distasteful. “All
good
coders want to work for Alex Strange
right now. He is completely unknown outside the industry. But he is gonna be
absolutely massive.”

“Wow,” she said, nodding, impressed at this guy’s enthusiasm. “And
you’re gonna work for him?”

“Hope so,” he said as he took a gulp of his drink, “I’m here to
pitch an idea.”

“Some
code
?” she said.

She knew what code was. They’d had IT classes at the convent. They’d
learned some Visual Basic, and a bunch of other stuff. They’d even written
little programs that drew shapes and other pointless stuff. She’d been pretty good
at it, but she didn’t want to seem too smart with Jason, so she tired to play innocent.

“Streaming,” he said, his eyes now burning, as if he couldn’t quite
believe he’d gotten such a fabulous girl into his hotel room and she was asking
him about code! “I write code that rationalizes streaming protocols. A
protocol, ehm...”

“Yeah, like a procedure, the order of the commands.”

“Jesus! I’ve never met anyone outside of the department that was
interested in this shit!”

“I’m not really that interested,” she told him. “I just read
Scientific
American
!”

They both laughed.

His exuberance was infectious, if a little over the top. And then he
seemed to realize that he’d gotten a bit too excited. There really weren’t too
many people who got turned on by streaming protocols.

“So,” he said, swirling the drink around in its glass, “what’s your
story? Up here at the
Marriot
on your own. How old are you? I mean, if
that’s not, like, rude or anything...”

There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment about the question, though. It
was as if he was back at college, that full-on openness that students have,
cocooned in their safe, nurturing environment, still unaware that the world is
full of cruelty and crushing disappointment.

“I’m eighteen,” she said. “And I’m traveling.”

“Alone? In this place! Cool.”

She didn’t want to lie to him, and she was glad she didn’t have to.

“I came into some money,” she said. “Not a fortune.”

He nodded. He wasn’t interested in money, that much was obvious.
Even his interest in code had now subsided as he looked down at his glass and
lowered his voice, a note of reticence in it:

“So, do you wanna hang out? I know some pretty cool places in
Manhattan, and over in Brooklyn...”

He felt her lips on his, smothering his words, moving slowly against
him like slivers of peeled peach, so soft he almost cried.

They made out for what seemed like ages, sitting there on the floor,
leaning into each other. He was a considerate kisser and his tongue tasted
faintly of bourbon, the saliva sweet and delicious as he explored her mouth. He
took it nice and slow, and she sank into him as if she was finally letting out
one long, never ending sigh.

Back at the convent, girls over sixteen were allowed out into the
city unaccompanied during the day. They were the ones who stayed on because
they had nowhere else to go, and the ones who tended to be the most trouble.
They would tell tales of local boys so fervent that just making out with them
for five minutes was like a wrestling match, as they grabbed tits and thrust
their hands up you skirt, desperate to cop a feel, like there was some prize
for how fast and hard they could do it.

Jason was not like that. He was tender, speaking to her between
kisses, telling her how beautiful she was. He let his hands glide up and down
her back. The touch of his fingers sent shivers down her spine and deep inside
her, until she ached for him. She wanted to tell him just how much, but instead
she pushed her lips harder into his, their mouths rubbing against each other
until they were hot.

Then he pulled her onto him and they fell sideways onto the carpet,
their heads pressed together as they touched the floor. She felt his thigh move
between hers. She yielded, allowing him push her legs open, running her hand
around his neck, her fingers digging into the flesh, letting him know she was
loving it, her nails pushing harder and harder into him as his thigh eased its
way up between her legs.

He edged himself part-ways onto her, and as their crotches met she
could feel him stiff beneath his jeans, his cock squeezed awkwardly to one
side, the bulge nudging the top of her thigh until she thought she was going to
burst with anticipation. He was rock hard for her, and he moved his trembling
hands across her breasts, trying not to be too rough, but his desperate need to
have her impossible to control.

He got a hand up underneath her top. A second later he pulled her
top up, her tits in his mouth, one then the other, getting them out of the cups
of her bra and sucking them so hungrily that he groaned, his pelvis thrusting
itself involuntarily into hers as she gripped him with her thighs and felt her
sex ooze with pure physical longing.

By the time he pushed a hand down the front of her panties, she was
already stroking his penis through the fabric of his jeans. It felt just right,
not like the huge throbbing monster in that magazine she had seen, which had
been impressive in itself but not the kind of thing she wanted inside her for
this, her first time.

And that’s what it was. She had to keep reminding herself, down
there on the carpet as her head rolled and her eyes fluttered. It was going to
be her first time. But she felt no apprehension. It seemed so natural, as
Jason’s fingers made their way into her sex, that she couldn’t imagine that
anything else could feel so good, or so right.

It wasn’t long before he was pulling her panties down, kissing her
stomach gently then fumbling behind him and getting a condom from his bag.
Jeez, she told herself, gulping with delight, he’s even got that bit right.
She’d been worried about the contraception, and what she would tell him no if
he didn’t have a rubber.

Seeing him get the condom made everything perfect. This guy was so
horny for her it seemed to hurt him. He rolled the rubber onto his shaft with
one hand, propping himself up with his other arm, a mixture of lust and wonder
in his young eyes. He was dazzled by her young body, but in control as well. He
was young. He was smiling. He was exactly what she wanted.

They both let the moment take its course in silence, just the sound
of their breath audible as they kissed and cuddled their way into position, she
on her back, legs apart, tender and traditional. But then, suddenly, she needed
to tell him something.

“Jason,” she said, pulling him down onto her.

She felt his fingers part her vagina, then the end of his penis slowly
enter her. Its thickness made her gasp, not with pain but amazement, because
nothing could have prepared her for the feeling that now coursed right up
through her pelvis and into her backbone.

“Jason, fuck me...” her eyes closed and her mouth hung open. “Just fuck
me...”

And as she murmured to him, the same thing, over and over, he moved
in and out of her, following the rhythm of her words, the two of them clinging
so tight that it seemed they would never be able to let go.

They fucked, and they fucked.

A few hours later, their faces still flushed and shiny with elation,
they were in an old Jewish-Rumanian place he knew down on the Lower East Side.
They ate chopped liver with schmaltz, plus pickles as big as your fist.

They goofed about, making egg creams, which Jason explained
contained no eggs, just milk, chocolate syrup, and seltzer, which you squirted
into the glass yourself. The drinks looked weird, but were fantastic. They had
three each, giggling as they ate and drank, the guy at the piano singing show
tunes loudly and sometimes not too well.

Jason ordered himself a Coors, said he only ever drank the odd beer.

“And the occasional
Jack
and
Coke
?” she added,
remembering how he’d knocked back a couple of the things in the
Marriot
,
right after their first time together, which had ended with him going
absolutely berserk on top of her, crunched up in what looked like the most
excruciating ejaculation imaginable.

Then he’d slumped onto his back, the rubber wrinkled on his
exhausted penis, and laughed so sweetly that she knew right then that she was
in love with him. And although they both needed a break, within fifteen minutes
they were at it again, another rubber, missionary position again. This time,
though, they were more adventurous, and by the time Jason was on the verge of
his second orgasm, he was kneeling behind her, slamming into her with such
force that she had to hold into the bed with both hands, muffling her own
squeals of delight with a pillow.

That day in the
Marriot
set Carol on a very steep learning curve.
And whereas Jason would come to his climaxes in a long, dramatic (and totally
horny) crescendo, she discovered that she could get a series of little ones,
her sex gradually moving into a state of chaos, until she hardly knew where she
was, only that she didn’t ever want it to stop...