Dallas Mayo

For women only

CHAPTER ONE

Something was bound to turn up, I figured. And it did. Or rather, she did. Right there in the hotel lobby! Her sidelong glance seemed more furtive thank frank, but I got the impression that she was hoping, too. Hoping for someone like me to happen along. Only she had to be subtle about it, naturally; why publicize a gay pickup? I was sure nobody else could see the interest lurking behind her mask of spurious nonchalance.

Her eyes met mine more boldly as I walked by. I turned my head and stared, inquisitive, quite deliberate now. Then, stepping back toward her, I murmured the trite phrase that would work if my guess was accurate and cause no harm if it wasn't.

"I beg your pardon…" My tone was soft but firm. "You look familiar. Do we know each other from somewhere?"

"Umm, no, I don't think so." She shrugged. And with a roguish smile, "But does it really matter?"

That did it. I smiled back and we introduced ourselves. Her name was Inez, mine Rory. And she was staying here at the hotel; wouldn't I like to come up and chat awhile? An afternoon drink just to get acquainted, perhaps? Just between us girls…

I nodded breathlessly. She swung around and I followed her across the lobby to the elevator, my gaze glued to the swell of undulating hips that slithered and swayed under cover of the tight-fitting tailored skirt. The woman was no great beauty, but even now her body exuded a kind of carnality. My kind of carnality, ah yes, I had found a friend, a timely bosom-companion in my time of need. A sexy stranger to divert my mind, to soothe my flesh, to ease the strain of making those difficult decisions. How I needed her!

Inside the elevator, a closer scrutiny turned out to be mildly disappointing. There was a rough-hewn irregularity to her facial features, too large a nose, too coarse a mouth. And yet that very appearance of coarseness made her seem remarkably sensual. This was a creature designed for bed.

And that was where we were going. To bed. Her bed. So what if she was less than perfect? Whatever a lover might lack in pulchritude, she could make up for in passion. And anyway, what right had I to complain? Alt I wanted was a woman – and she was certainly that, all woman, very much so. I could smell her body fragrance, feminine and faintly musky. No complaints, then. After all, beggars can't be choosers, can they?

In her room, Inez produced a bottle and a couple of clean glasses. "Honey, how much time do you have? I mean, uh, are we in a hurry?"

"No. No hurry. I've got the afternoon free."