The Accidental Mistress

chapter Three

Zuri awoke, finding herself under a heavy duvet; beads of sweat dotted her brow and dripped from her lashes into her blurred vision. She kicked off the covers. Her feet peddled over the carpet as she raced in blind urgency to the bathroom. Her sleep (alcohol induced delirium) made it easy to misjudge her surroundings. She ran directly into the wall instead of waking instantly.

Dazed, she gagged and stumbled in the darkness to find the door to the bathroom. She rushed through the door and vomited over the toilet seat and her self, missing the bowl entirely. Through the retching and her stomach convulsions, her eyes teared and she sank to the floor, depleted. The coolness of the bathroom tile against her feverish cheek made it so much better. She lay there waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Several minutes passed and she blinked her eyes open. Stinking from spew and the alcohol seeping from her pores, she lifted in time to vomit once more. The stench made her eyes cross. She wiped her hand over her lips and flushed.

Summoning her strength, she cleaned the commode and floor to the best of her ability. Once done, she fell back against the tub and faced the tiled wall under the sink. "I'm so stupid. So stupid," she chanted.

Zuri was grateful she had made it to her sister's room but confused as to how and when she did so. Rising from the floor, she unhooked, unbuttoned and unzipped her dress. The drying slime on the front was hard to miss. It was her favorite dress and ruined. She stepped out of it. Then she eased off her panties and her bra. "I'm so dumb!" she groaned.

Zuri turned on the shower and stepped under the cool jets. The ice-cold water tingled her skin. She shivered but welcomed the frosty cleansing. Her head cleared, though her skull felt as if it had been used for batting practices by the Chicago Mets.

Zuri inhaled the lavender hotel soap as she lathered her skin. She tried to recall the events of the night in sequential order. Of course, due to her foggy memory, the evening in the bar began and ended with the sexy guy named Christophe. She blushed at the way he flirted, then how she made an ass out of herself with mixing wine with scotch. But it was the most daring thing she had ever done. She would wake and tell Joi and they would have a laugh. No more alcohol for her.

She crept out of the shower and dried herself. Her head was clear but her mouth was nasty. She put on the hotel’s monogrammed robe hanging on the back of the door and sighed at the terrycloth’s comforting warmth.

A search of the bathroom drawers turned up a complimentary toothbrush and a small tube of Crest. She scrubbed her teeth clean, then her tongue, gargled water and spit. She checked her watch and noticed it was just three in the morning.

"Birthday over," she mumbled.

Zuri left the bathroom shutting off the light. Her undies and soiled dress were left behind on the floor. Her eyes adjusted again to the darkness. She surveyed the bedroom. Her heart dropped. The bed was empty. The room wasn't as she remembered. She looked to the open door that led out to a suite she was certain her sister didn't have and nervously tightened the sash to her robe. Her parent's room extended to an open area equipped with a bar and outside balcony. Was she so drunk she had ventured into her parents room? Were they waiting for her on the sofa for a serious talk?

Careful of where she stepped, she crept out into the suite. She saw nothing at first. There were too many shadows in the unlit suite. But when she turned to go back in the room, she caught a glimpse of him. Slouched down in the sofa with torn pieces of paper all around him, it was her hero, Christophe.

"Mon Dieu!"

His eyes stretched open. He frowned and squinted at her in the darkness.

"What am I doing here?" she asked him.

Christophe slumped forward. He seemed as confused as she was. He set the empty glass on the coffee table and looked down at the shredded remains of what she now guessed to be photographs.


"Did you bring me here!" she demanded.

"Stop yelling," he said, putting his hand to his forehead.

"Answer me! Did you take advantage of me?"

He peeked through his spread fingers at her. "What?"

"You did! You got me drunk and brought me here!"

Christophe glared at her. His eyes doing a full long sweep of her. "Why are you in my robe?" he snapped back.

Suddenly it dawned on her that she was in his robe, and nude underneath. She gathered the collar in her fist and clenched the other at her side. "I thought I was with my sister. I took a shower, I... I didn't know I was in your room. Why am I here?"

Christophe rose and Zuri stepped back. His shirt was pulled out of his slacks and his tie cast aside. Half his face was covered in shadows. But even in the darkness, she saw the light of anger in his eyes. "You've recovered. Fine, get dressed and get out," he mumbled, going back to the bar. She watched him pour another drink from a nearly depleted bottle.

Instead of leaving, curiosity drew her to the pictures torn to pieces all over the floor. Zuri stooped and picked up a piece then another, trying to understand.

"I said go."

"What's wrong with you? Why did you do this?"

"That's none of your business."

Zuri’s gaze turned toward him. He glared down at her. "I apologize for accusing you of something improper. I apologize for, I dunno, for this. I appreciate what you did, bringing me here. My father wouldn't have been happy to have me dropped at his door drunk. So thank you. That being said, there is no need to be nasty. I'll go."

“Wait.” Christophe set the bottle down. She did. For what she wasn't sure, but there was something oddly compelling in the way he spoke that single word to her. She turned, the darkness had cleared like a black fog retreating to the corners of the room she could see him now. "I'm sorry too. Tonight, it's been a night."

Zuri watched him approach with a predator's ease. "You okay?" he asked. "You were pretty wasted."

"Yes. I should go now."

Christophe smiled. She liked when he smiled. Her lungs filled with air and she relaxed. There was nothing to fear about him. He touched her hair. The strands were wet from the shower. Her roots were frizzy from the steam. She knew from her cursory glance in the bathroom mirror that she must look a sight.

"Accept my apology for snapping at you, Zuri."

"Um, ookay."

"You are quite lovely. Do you know that?"

She stammered another half reply, and before she knew it he kissed her. Zuri eyes stretched. His lips covered hers, their teeth clicked until his tongue forced its way in. Shocked by the boldness of the kiss, she gripped his sleeves. He brought his arms around her waist and lifted her to the tips of her toes as he dipped his tongue in wonderful swirls that swept through her mouth.

She should have pushed him away. It was totally reckless and unlike her to just kiss a man in his hotel room after a night of drinking. But his urgency and her curiosity made her bold. The mix had a devastating chemical reaction that stoked the idle flames of her desire for his touch. Her brain silenced her objections with a sensory overload. She concentrated on the rhythm of his tongue as it guided her to the pleasures of a truly passionate kiss.

Finally, he released her, but her mouth gaped and her eyes remained closed for round two. She felt him grab her by the collar of the robe and was immediately aware of the arousal he stirred.

"I'm a dead man, beautiful. Do you understand? Dead." He pulled her closer and pressed his lips this time softly to hers, trailing them next to her neck. There he nuzzled and applied several gentle kisses. She felt her spine melt and all her limbs grow weak. His gentle manner caused her to react with her head as he sucked her neck. Breathing became a chore. Her hands now gripped his waist, fingers slipping into the belt loops. His mouth continued to massage her neck with his tongue, moving sensually to her shoulder. It felt good.

When his passionate kisses ended, she nearly dropped. If he hadn't held her, she would have stumbled from the newfound feeling of passion that overcame her. "I shouldn't do this," he said in a gruff voice. "Tell me to stop and I will."

Zuri blinked up at the ceiling, dazed and confused. Tell him to stop? How was she supposed to do that? She had no idea what this was or why her body was both hot and cold all at once. She could barely breathe through her desire, let alone retain a coherent thought. Now it was up to her to decide if this would go further? Didn't he know? It had been decided when he kissed her.

Christophe swept her into his arms, and she gasped in surprise. No man had ever picked her up but her father, and he had stopped when she hit her teens. Zuri knew she was a woman, of legal consent. But she felt completely lost and out of her element when looking into the blue swirls of desire pooling like liquid within his eyes.

The room swam a bit and she felt weightless. Christophe carried her to bed, lowered her gently like a bride upon the rumpled sheets. He drew back and a hint of a smile tugged the corners of his mouth before it faded altogether. He stared down at her, almost apologetic, as if he wasn't deserving. Then those man hands that had held her slipped into his pockets instead of over her body.

“Why do you have a box of condoms?” he asked.

Zuri frowned.

"Huh? I don't—" she started, and then noticed the direction of his gaze. She followed his line of sight and saw her things on his dresser. The box was there next to her wallet and purse. Had he gone through her things? She wasn't angry but embarrassed. What he must have thought to find them on her, an entire box. She could barely stammer a reply.

"I don't know why," she said and it was the truth. He shook his head, smiling. Zuri extended her hand to him. Certainly he knew it wasn't planned. Who planned a seduction this badly?

Christophe hesitated.

“I'm sober now, and those condoms were a gag gift,” she pleaded, for reasons she both knew and didn't. “I, I want you," she managed. He cut her a hard, sharp scowl of distrust. Was he angry? Had she said the wrong thing? Would he chase her out of the room now?

Zuri got up on her knees and semi-crawled over to him. She put her hand to his chest. His gaze lowered to the spot of their connection. She liked the hard feel of him under the palm of her hand. His chest radiated heat through his shirt. She could imagine his warm flesh pressed into her and between her thighs. She wanted to feel that and much more.

Zuri had seen enough movies, heard enough tales from her sister and girlfriends. The art of seduction certainly wasn't that hard. She knew all the mechanics of sex. Finding courage in the dim light and avoiding the intensity in his stare, she undid the top button of his collared shirt, pushing it through the little slot. She undid the next and the next.

He didn't touch her, but the rise and fall of his chest indicated he wanted too. Wisps of chest hair sprang free and when she had finally unbuttoned his shirt she took her time to run her fingers through them.

Christophe placed a hand to her waist, the other to the tie on her robe. There was no hesitation. Before Zuri remembered her vulnerability the robe was undone. She nearly backed out of the game when she was revealed to him but the way he looked at her weakened her resistance. There was such adoration in his eyes she relished the feeling of being desired.

Christophe gently pulled the robe off her shoulders. She lowered her arms to let the material slide down with ease. His gaze remained trained on her nipples, ripening under the chill of the room. For her petite frame, her breasts were quite large. Her mother always taught them to downplay their womanly curves as young girls and to hide their figures under loose fitted clothes or collared dresses.


Now she understood her body’s appeal. In the eyes of this handsome stranger her sexuality bloomed. Would he touch them? Lick and suck them until she thrashed about and screamed his name.

"You're French Caribbean?" he asked.

"How? How did you know?"

"Say something in French," he said, his voice hoarse with desire.

Was he for real? The look he gave her said yes.

"Je veux faire l'amour," she whispered against his ear.

Zuri's request to make love may have been premature, since she didn't know his last name, but it was what she desired. Maybe desire wasn't the appropriate word. She yearned for more, his touch, his tongue, all of it at once on and over her skin.

His eyes remained unreadable. And the kiss he gave for her reward chased away all doubts. He pinched her left nipple, then her right. She winced, but made no objection as heat and arousal spread from her breast down to her p-ssy. Her eyes drifted shut and a moan surfaced from deep in her throat through her partially parted lips.

Christophe cupped her heavy breasts in his hands. A shiver trickled down her spine as his thumbs did circular rubs over their points. She bit down on her tongue to keep from saying how much she liked it. And then his mouth lowered and he took one achy nipple in between his teeth.

Zuri gasped, her eyes stretching wide then fluttering shut. He suckled her nipple until it was tight and raw, then he lathed it with the wet heat his tongue and mouth bought. Her hand grabbed his shoulder as she arched her back further.

That's when it happened the powerful sensation of pleasure when he touched her between her legs. She'd masturbated before in secret, in the shower, and she felt shame for her actions. But now she knew what she liked, what she desired in a touch there, and this was exactly what she had hoped for. His finger tickled her * until it became engorged with sensations that made her tremble. Yes! Two fingers went up and down her slit, slow and easy. Then one carefully eased inside.

"Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed.

Christophe immediately began to suckle her other breasts, and his finger darted in and out of her until she was slippery and pumping her p-ssy against his palm. It was sublime, delicious, hot and sexy. They were things that a man’s touch should be, she supposed. And it was the beginning.

Oh he is the one! He was definitely the one.

Zuri grabbed his face. Christophe released her nipple with a wet pop and her breast bounced. His finger never stopped, it kept tunneling. The action made her crave his whiskey-laced tongue once more. Hot and hungry was the kiss she forced on his mouth. She was a quick study.

Zuri nibbled kisses along his jaw. Christophe inserted another finger, pinched her * simultaneously and she yelped. He chuckled deep in his throat. Zuri’s eyes rolled as she threw her arms around his neck and came with his hand between her legs and her knees spread apart on the mattress. It was her very first climax without the use of her own hand. It had such a dizzying effect on her that she bit into his shoulder.

When he suddenly released her, Zuri fell back panting, rolling to her side, her hips and vagina quaking. She pulled down several jerky breaths as she reclaimed control of her body.

Christophe straightened her out. She was positioned awkwardly with one leg bent and kicked out behind her and the other pushed up to her knee. He fell on her and applied soft sucks and kisses to her neck. She wanted the next phase to commence immediately. So she reached between them and undid the belt buckle that was painfully pressed into her abdomen. He flicked his tongue at her ear and she giggled. It tickled. He dipped his tongue in the canal of her ear and she exhaled a pleasured sigh. Zuri lowered the zipper to his trousers, and her fingers came in contact with his pubic hair. It was coarse and wiry to the touch. She wanted to see his penis, measure the length as most women did and understand what would soon break the barrier that no man had breached before. But he stopped. His head lifted and those groomed locks, smoothed back from his face, covered his brow. His eyes held such a wild primal hunger in them it caught her breath. A slither of excitement crept over her.

"You're exquisite," he breathed. Zuri smiled shyly up at him. She felt exquisite, so much so she gently moved her hips with him pressed so firmly between her legs.

"Touch your self for me," he ordered, then lifted off to watch. Her hand froze over her sex.

Was he serious? He arched a brow at her hesitation and lifted his gaze to capture hers. He was!

Zuri parted the lips to her vagina and touched herself as she had done in secret. He smiled, watching. His eyes gleamed wickedly, delighted. He stood.

"How does it feel, beautiful?" he asked.

"Suis bien," she exhaled.

Christophe pulled off his shirt. Zuri's gaze devoured his firm muscled chest. A sprinkle of dark hair thinned over a taut mouth-watering six-pack and arrowed down to his groin. His trousers did little to conceal the strength of his arousal. As he stepped out of his pants that had dropped to his ankles, and tugged down his silk boxers, her breath caught at the unveiling of his erection. Her gaze slowly lifted back to his and fear crept in over her fool-hearted desire.

This would be her first time and she had chosen a man with a python in his pants. He turned and went to the box of condoms so she could get a good look at the muscles packed in his broad back and perfectly shaped butt cheeks. How could he be so perfectly put together? She knew the male anatomy by heart, and nothing compared to the specimen before her.

"So you prefer magnums?" he cast her a look over his shoulder.

"My sister gave those to me as a gag gift I told you," she said and wished it didn't sound like a whine. Even worst, from the way his eyes hardened and his brows dipped, she suspected he didn't believe her. That hurt her feelings.

Should she warn him now that she wanted to go slow? Really slow! She scooted back into the pillows and instinctively covered her breasts. It didn't matter. He turned on her and honed in on the nest of curls covering her sex. She trimmed the hairs, but never shaved. She just didn't see the need. He moistened his lips. She wondered if this too was a turn on for him.

"You are so sexy and a lady. I like that."

He called me a lady? If only he knew how un-lady like she wanted to be. Zuri looked down at her womanly figure that had developed early. She studied as he did, her thick hips and shapely thighs, her taut stomach and petite waistline. She was indeed a woman, a lady, and his for the night.

He tossed the box to the bed and came on top. Hands first, he stopped at her feet. "You're so natural, so fresh. I like that," he said, taking her foot into his hand. She watched him curiously as he massaged her foot with his thumbs.

Her back arched, the action relaxed every tendon. She was used to massages. Thanks to her mother, she and her sister enjoyed them since they were three. But this, oh sweet merciful Christ, no one ever told her a man could do one such as this.

"You like that?"

"I... yes."

"I wanted to be a physical therapist once upon a time, to heal people. That and a poet," he chuckled. She knew the latter was said with such snide humor he was lying. But she didn't care. There was indeed something poetic about his touches, his kisses, his tongue. And Zuri loved poetry.

"Then I'm a lucky girl. Merci," she moaned, not even bothering to ask why he made the leap into sexy businessman. He pushed back on her foot forcing Zuri to bend her knee, thus parting her thighs and showing him her arousal. All the while, he massaged the bunched muscles in her calves and worked her foot until her toes felt as loose as jelly. All the fear and anxiety eased from her weary bones. Even the tummy ache she had from the alcohol was gone. It was magic.


"May I?"

"Huh?" her lids opened from her heavy with desire. He was pushing both her thighs up and apart before the action registered with her brain. He then traced his tongue over the sensitive skin of her *. She lowered her crossed arms from her breasts and gripped the bed sheets when he dragged her down the mattress. She pulled the sheets with her to the edge.

He knelt before the foot of the bed. With her legs spread apart she revealed more than he could ever have imagined. He flicked his tongue at her bud and Zuri smiled at how it quivered in response. Christophe fastened his lips on her *oris and she shuddered. Pleasure rocketed through her pelvis almost violently.

His tongue was insistent. It probed and gave delicious swirls that ended in licks and nips that had her thrashing about. She wanted to close her thighs, but all attempts were thwarted by the powerful way he kept her pinned as he feasted. She tried to scoot back and away, and he growled his impatience, dragging her back down. When she thought she'd scream with maddening delight he let go his hold and inserted his finger. Zuri's back bowed from the mattress.

"I want more," he grunted in such a deep hoarse voice her p-ssy clenched.

Zuri barely opened her eyes, racked with warm zings of pleasures all through her channel as she neared her end. But he pulled her down off the bed and fell to his back. At first, disoriented with desire, she didn't understand. She soon uncovered his true intent when he lifted her and forced her to sit on his face.

Zuri fell forward, her hands flat to both sides of his head and her breasts circling. He pierced her cunt with his tongue then licked up to her *oris. She grunted, sweating and panting, now on the edge of abandon.

He did things she couldn't name. It was more feeling, probing, kissing, licking, sucking down there until she was digging her nails into the carpet. She ended up bouncing on his face and creaming him like some brazen harlot. She couldn't believe the primal urge to shake loose every drop of her essence. Once done, she fell forward, his face still buried beneath her. He eased her up off him and she felt weightless again as he picked her up and then positioned her on the bed.

She felt him shift and reach beyond her as the sound of the box opening and the unraveling of a row of condoms caused her to blush. She would have watched, wanted to see the beast of a cock between his legs sheathed, but she turned on her side, holding herself around her abdomen while shuddering out the last of her orgasm. She shuddered until the urge to come was gone.

He flipped her over onto her back, took her face into his palms and he forced her thighs apart with his hip, "You're shivering? Are you cold?"

"Yes, she stammered." It was a lie, but how could she explain the mix of fear and excitement gripping her. He drew the blankets over them. In doing so, she felt his cock-head rub and brush her quivering p-ssy. She stiffened out of reflex.

Relax, Zuri. Please don't embarrass yourself. It'll hurt, but it will be over soon. Then you will know what all the mystery is about. You know the semantics of it. It’s just your hymen he has to breech, then....

"Better?" he smiled.

"Yes," she nodded, lifting her arms to his neck. His name was Christophe. Christophe, Christophe, Christophe, Christophe! But Christophe what? She forgot if he ever told her. He was Christophe, her first lover, her first one-night stand, or maybe they could have another?

She forced the thoughts from her head when his lips brushed hers and she was greeted with the unexpected flavoring of her own sex on his breath. Aroused, she drew his tongue back into her mouth and slowly sampled herself. She liked it, letting her fingers go up into the silken curls of his hair at his nape. His hands held her hips, angling her pelvis and forcing her thighs wider still.

The head of his penis probed gently at her opening. Her breath was a bubble in her throat and her eyes squeezed tight through their kiss. Then a single thrust lodged him halfway inside of her. She choked out a cry of resistance, and pushed at his hips to stop him.

Christophe froze.

Everything in the room went still.

The kissing stopped.

His head slowly lifted and the dazed expression on his face cleared to a new understanding.

"Don't stop," she said, her voice a quivery mess of syllables.

"Shit." He tried to lift off her.

"No! Wait, don't—"

"Why?" he asked.

"Je veux te faire l’amour," she said softly.

Christophe looked at her with concern, and surprisingly distrust. But she grabbed his face, despite her discomfort she lifted off the pillow to greet his mouth that parted with half formed objections. She gave him the most pleading of sensual kisses. He groaned in his throat, putting his weight on her. Then raised his hips and sank all the way in. She dug her nails deep into his flesh and came undone. The stretching was almost bearable thanks to the soft caresses he applied up and down her thighs during his descent.

Christophe began to move, the sure solid thrusts taking him deeper. He kissed her face, dropping to her breasts as he humped his back and continued to pump his way in and out of her.

Zuri heard her cries and didn't recognize the pleasurable high-pitched notes escaping her throat. She was unable to control the shockwaves of ecstasy crashing over her as his loving touched a part of her she never knew existed.

Christophe stopped.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strained but tender as his shoulders shook with his battle to remain in control.

"Yes," she sniffed. "It feels wonderful."

"You're wonderful, Zuri, to give me something so precious." He kissed her, and that sealed it. She was in love. Right there in that moment, she knew in her soul that he was the one.

He began to move in an exquisite unstoppable rhythm that had her body responding in her delight. The sore ache turned into a blaze of sensations that gathered in intensity like a lightening storm to the center of her *oris and she exploded in such a flush of pleasure and wet release that she clawed at his back and bucked beneath him in wide eyed amazement.

Yes. This had to be love.

***

"Zuri, Zuri?" he said kissing her face.

She needed a minute to gather herself. It was too much too soon. She just couldn't speak. He caressed the side of her face with his jaw "Tell me you're okay," he said into her ear.

"I am," she managed.

Christophe kissed her brow, heaved a deep sigh, and withdrew his semi erect member, slowly. Cold air covered her feverish body as the blanket lifted and he escaped the bed to the bathroom. She heard him piss, and flush away the condom, and wash his hands. She gathered the sheets about her, moving out of the wet spot, anxious for his return.

She felt marvelous.

"I don't understand this. Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?" he asked.

She opened her eyes. He had returned but not to the bed. He towered over her. The hard edge to his voice was unmistakable. He was angry. Why?

"I just didn't tell you. Why does it matter?"

"Your first time doesn't matter?" he snapped.

"Huh? No, what I mean is—"

"And the condoms, you planned this? Picking up some guy in a bar? Seducing him? To just give yourself away? For what?"

"No. Not like that, I just thought—"

"What's your game?"

Hurt, she sat up, the sheet now balled to the front of her chest in her fist, "I wasn't playing a game. I told you my sister gave me those."

"I think you should leave."


Zuri was floored. "You what?"

"The alcohol got the best of us...of me."

"You bastard. You make love to me and then throw me out?"

"It wasn't love. We don't know each other," he corrected her coolly.

Zuri couldn't believe how foolish she was. She didn't understand how he could be so mean to her. Just a moment ago he was kissing away her fears, now he stood there as if she was trying to rob him of something. Worse yet, was the humiliation of what he implied. It was true. She had dismissed all the strict disciplines of her life, her father's lessons and rules, and she had just walked up to a complete stranger and handed over something so precious. Tears glittered in her wide eyes. Christophe looked away, but crossed his arms determined that she leave.

"Forgive me for thinking you were a decent guy. Guess the joke is on me." She got up from the bed taking the sheet with her. He stepped in front of her.

"Look, I didn't mean it that way. It’s just... I don't know what to make of you, and I'm so sick of f*cking women tricking me into believing they are one thing when they’re not. I just don't understand how you could be so innocent and respond to me the way you did in bed? What the hell is going on?"

"Go to hell, you pompous ass. It takes two. If you had questions and doubts, then you should have asked them before you screwed my brains out!" She hurried to the bathroom where her clothes were. Behind the door, she let go of her tears. She quickly put on her soiled dress and came out to find him seated on the edge of the bed in his boxers with his head in his hands. He looked up at her as if he was wounded. She hated him. Christophe, Christophe, Christophe, the mean bastard!

"You had no right to go through my purse, you jerk."

"Zuri, I'm messed up, okay. I shouldn't have let things go this far. Trust me. You should be thanking me that I asked you to go."

"I'll pretend this never happened. You do the same."

"Zuri wait—"

Wait for what? More insults? No thanks. She didn't. She was out into the hall and nearly running in her heels to the elevator. She felt shattered. Zuri would never understand how after all he made her feel she would end up feeling betrayed in the end.