Chapter 10

“We are waiting, princess,” Tad shouted from a table in the center of the deserted nightclub.

A very un-lady like retort came to mind; Amber bit her lip. She simply tugged at her mini skirt’s hem once more then she jogged from the dressing room out to center stage. Her crimson crop top with white piping proudly displayed the team name Cavaliers in bold white script across her chest while the low-rise matching skirt barely covered her red spandex undies. Red laces tied her white tennis shoes and a blonde wig fell in waves similar to Carrie Underwood.

“Where are your pom poms?” her choreographer asked.

“Right here.” She grabbed her breasts with both hands.

“Those mosquito bites? Pu-lease,” he lisped throwing up a hand.

Amber bit her lip again and put a clenched fist on her hip. The pair turned toward Janice who stood quietly to the side in thought. With two fingers on her lips, she studied her young protégé appearance.

“No. It’s not right. This is not the right effect.” Janice Brewer shook her head.

“Thank you!” Amber said turning on a heel toward the dressing room.

“Just one second,” Tad Wilcox said with a dramatic snap of his fingers. The dancer froze mid-stride. He stepped toward Janice and spoke in a low voice so his pupil would not hear. “You told me you wanted something sexy to go with the music. If you put her on stage in this outfit every straight man in the place will be whacking his weasel over her in the shower the next day.”

“Amber, you may go ahead and change,” her control officer said.

“Ms. Brewer, that uniform cost us a $300 donation to the local high school.”

The major and the dance instructor watched the performer enter the wing at stage left. Major Brewer smiled at him while she touched him on the shoulder. “You are right. Every red blooded American male would be thinking about her. However, that outfit will not reach OUR target audience.”

“Then, what is our target audience?”

“It’s not an American male.”

Tad shrugged his shoulders. “You might have mentioned that before we bought the cheerleader’s outfit.”

The Major ignored the complaint. “Our man is a Latino–from Bogotá¡’ to be precise. Do you think you could come up with something suitable?”

“No problemo. I've worked in both Florida and California. I think I know what the Latinos like.”

After Major Brewer approved the new wardrobe and routine, the next several days were busy for Amber. She practiced six to eight hours daily then performed her current two sets each night at the Peacock.

It seemed Amber was never alone, either she was with her “manager” Major Brewer, or under the watchful eye of her choreographer. Amber began to regard her slim dance instructor as “Tad the Cruel,” since he forced her through hours of torturous, repetitive dance steps.

She told Major Brewer in private, “I think he is a closet sadist,” Amber said. “He is worse than a drill instructor. He shouts at me constantly, I can never please him.”

The young performer sensed she was being constantly watched by her companions and soon began to feel claustrophobic. She wanted, no needed to be alone. Her chance came late Thursday afternoon.

Tad the Cruel had lived in Miami previously and when his friends discovered he had returned to town, they surprised him by coming to the Peacock Thursday afternoon. They dragged him from rehearsal out the doors into a waiting car. Amber waved delightedly at the group as they drove away. Whipping off her long blonde wig, she dashed into the dressing room to change clothes. She pulled her long dark hair into a pony tail, slipped into a tight white crop, cut off jeans, and sandals. She then raced from the club out into the bright Florida sun.

Amber walked north on Washington Avenue, past one of the many famous Miami art deco styled buildings. As Amber understood, buildings are considered art deco when they have bold colors, stark lines and zigzag architectural features. Major Brewer explained to her that art deco was in vogue during the 1920s when Miami Beach developers turned the island into a tourist destination. After Amber crossed 5th Street, she stopped and flipped open her new phone to take several pictures of a building she believed to be in the art deco style. The base was made of rectangular blocks of beige and burnt orange, while the tower on the north side of the building was encircled by a series of “steps.” The tower’s “steps” separated the burnt orange on the bottom from the metallic silver on top.

She continued down the busy street past a bank, payday loan office, and several stores until she reached 6th Street, where she crossed the busy thoroughfare and headed down the one-way street. Once beyond Collins Court, she paused to window shop at Zara’s department store. Amber pined for a beautiful blouse and skirt displayed on a mannequin in the window but knew her budget based on her sergeant’s pay would not allow it. Feeling bold, she jaywalked the empty street to the Arden B store, where she casually browsed the items in their windows.

Amber made her way to the corner, traversed Collins Avenue then continued on. She walked briskly down the side street between the large hotels and shops, passing by many people. She reached the corner of 6th and Beach Drive, marked by the blue awnings of the Beach Paradise Hotel. Amber, along with a small crowd, waited patiently for the light to change and en masse crossed the street to Lummus Beach.

Feeling the heat of the Florida sun, Amber stopped to buy ice cream from a street vendor. As she stood beneath a multi-colored umbrella, she asked for a strawberry gelato in a waffle cup. The vendor, who had a very thick gray moustache, asked Amber in a thicker Cuban accent where she was from. She explained she was originally from Missouri but was working here temporarily and was having a great time in Miami. The Cuban vendor smiled then suggested she should stay, since Miami always needed beautiful girls. Amber beamed at the compliment, paid for her gelato, and thanked the man.

Amber strolled along the palm tree lined sidewalk toward the beach, enjoying her cool treat. Mindful of the calories in the Italian dessert, she sadly tossed the remainder into a trash bin. She sat down on one of the many park benches and looked out at the expanse of white sand and the beautiful blue ocean. The sunlight was warm on her smooth tanned skin; she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, slipped off her sandals and felt the sand sift through her toes. The sound of voices from a group of young men caused her to look up. Apparently, the three were college students were returning from the beach to their hotel. After they passed, she glanced backward at them to catch one of them admiring her as they walked away. She grinned widely at the thought of cute guys noticing her and turned to see if they were still there.

Unfortunately, she discovered they had moved on. However, this did not diminish her mood. She sat in the Florida sun and thought about the circumstances that brought her here.

“Well, hello,” a feminine voice said from behind.

“Uh, oh…busted!” Amber turned and smiled.

The attractive blonde slipped around the park bench to take a seat next to her young protégé, where she too lounged in the warmth. Neither of the pair spoke but looked toward the ocean and the endless horizon in front of them. The surf’s crash sounded like rhythmic thunder to Amber, although she was not afraid of storms, she wondered if she could even sleep near the beach with this continual din.

“Janice, you don’t have to worry, I am ready for Friday night’s performance.”

“I know you are.”

“I just wanted to be alone,” Amber said.

“I know, but you didn’t tell me where you were going,” Major Brewer said in a firm tone, her hard eyes not leaving the horizon. “You are an essential part of this mission and team. I am your control officer. I have to be made aware of your movements. If you are going to be an operative for us, you need to follow procedures.”

“Major, I understand.”

“No, you obviously do not. Corazon is dangerous. The man is a murderer and a drug dealer. He was going to rape you while you were at the club.” The Army officer continued to stare at the ocean.

“Major, I know how dangerous…” Amber turned her head slightly so her boss would not see the tears forming in her eyes

“You didn’t even see me follow you from rehearsal. What if he followed you from the club like I did? Would we be able to find you?”

“But…I did see you follow me.” She handed her phone to the Major, a picture showing her along Washington Avenue displayed on the screen. “I also saw you in the window at Zara’s. I even saw you cross Beach Drive.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Amber didn’t understand why she was crying.

The blonde woman put a protective arm around the girl-boy and hugged her tight. Amber cried softly as Janice held her. The intelligence officer lightly kissed Amber’s forehead. Janice reached into her purse pulling out a tissue to hold it up to Amber, who nodded her thanks, took the tissue then wiped the tears from her eyes. The two sat on the bench a few more moments.

“Let’s go.” Janice stood up, smoothed her blouse and turned to face the city.

“Where?”

“To Zara’s. I saw a blouse there too that I liked. Plus, I am sure we can find you a purse there.”

***

Amber's fingers danced across her legs with nervous energy while she waited on Say La Vie’s act to end. She stood in the Peacock’s stage wings and watched the female illusionist dance and lip sync. Say was doing a better than average impersonation of Gaga, in Amber’s opinion. Most of the girls she had seen just didn’t have the singer’s flair. However, Say’s act was good.

“Great set!” Amber exclaimed to the drag queen as she teetered off the stage in eight-inch wedge heels, wearing a metallic bra with matching panties, and a heart shaped headdress.

“Ooh, thanks baby! I think the crowd seemed to like it.” The tall, thin performer answered, obviously elated.

“Thank you, that was the one and only Say La Vie performing to Poker Face by Lady Gaga!” The announcer spoke loudly over clapping and shouts.

When the house lights dimmed the applause lessened, Amber walked out onto the darkened stage towards the stand up microphone a stage hand had set in place. She flashed big smiles and gave tiny waves to several regulars in the audience she knew; she paused briefly at the stage’s edge when she recognized the owner of the club in St. Louis, who she rescued several months ago. Amber mouthed “Hello!” then “What are you doing here?” to him and he replied something she couldn’t hear. She tapped her ear while lifting her slim shoulders to indicate a lack of understanding. He nodded in reply. Making her way to center stage, she grasped the chrome mike stand with both hands waiting for her cue. She suddenly felt nervous when she looked out over the large crowd. Her stomach tightened as it did in high school.

“Arron, what are you going to do after graduation?”

“I’ve enlisted in the Army.” Arron looked out at the students in his government class.

Mrs. Ulmer ignored the snickers in the back of the class and continued with the interview “Why do you want to join the Army?”

“I want to serve my country.”

More snickers.

"Evan or Taylor, did you have something to say?" Mrs. Ulmer asked.

Afraid of possible consequences, the two students shook their heads.

"Let me remind you that your interviews are coming up this week."

U.S. Government was a required course at Neil Armstrong High School. All seniors took Mrs. Ulmer’s class and since part of the course was the senior interview, every senior was interviewed. She would ask questions to the students about their past and about their future plans. Speaking in front of the class was stressful. Arron always enjoyed Mrs. Ulmer’s other classes and looked forward to taking the government course but he dreaded the inquisition.

She turned her attention back to the boy standing in front of his fellow seniors. “Why?” Mrs. Ulmer questioned. The question wasn’t asked negatively or positively but probingly.

He thought for a moment then said, “It’s the right thing to do. We’ve been given so much in this country; we should give back and help protect it.”

“His gun will be bigger than him. How’s he even going to pick it up to protect us?”

“Evan, not another word,” Mrs. Ulmer said in a firm tone. “Arron, what will you be doing in the Army?”

“I’ve enlisted as a 35F. That’s my MOS.”

“What is an MOS?” Mrs. Ulmer asked.

“MOS stands for Military Occupational Specialty. The Army has acronyms for everything.”

“So what is a 35F? What does it do?”

“It is an Intelligence Analyst,” Arron said. “My job will be to combine the information from signal intelligence, ground intelligence, and interrogations. I will then put the pieces together and give them to the commander to make decisions.”

“He thinks he’s 007,” Taylor blurted out, causing several of the girls in class to giggle. Arron felt his stomach tighten.

Mrs. Ulmer, intrigued by Arron's response, ignored the interruption. “Where will you be stationed? Will you go overseas?”

“After basic training at Fort Knox, I will be sent to Fort Huachuca in Arizona for my AIT, that’s advanced individual training. After that, I’m not sure.”

“How long did you enlist for?”

“My enlistment is for four years. If I reenlist, I will get a large bonus.”

The social studies teacher nodded. “It sounds interesting.” The bell signaling the end of class rang loudly, the students rose from their seats to move en masse to the door. Mrs. Ulmer stepped forward and took Arron by the arm, holding him back until all the students left.

“Do you really want to join the Army?”

Arron nodded his head. “Yes.”

“Arron, you don’t have anything to prove. You are an excellent student with good grades. You could go to college if you want.” She looked down at her diminutive student. Arron was bright but he was also smaller than most everyone in the class, including the girls. He was thin with fine features and she thought him to be sensitive. Mrs. Ulmer, along with most of the staff, believed him to be gay even if he did not realize it himself.

“I know, but I want to do this.”

“And now Club Peacock presents the dynamic sex kitten Amberlynn Kain.” The announcement snapped her back to the present.

The South Beach club’s mix of regulars and tourists clapped its appreciation for the relative newcomer. A single spotlight bathed Amber in dazzling white light as the music came to life. Due to the outfit she wore, she appeared to shine and reflect the light back towards the audience with equal intensity. The young artist was dressed in rhinestone studded spiked sandals, low-rise red sequined shorts, plus a skimpy white t-shirt with the word “dream” in red sequined letters. Bright red lipstick and a shoulder length curly golden blonde wig completed her outfit. She held the microphone stand and lip-synched the first two lines of the soft beginning of Teenage Dream by Katy Perry. Before the song’s tempo increased, Amber moved from the microphone to the front of the stage where several young men and a woman stood with bills in their hand.

Amber approached each man smiling, leaned down to take the bill, kissing the generous fan on the cheek to say thanks. When the young woman’s turn came, the performer knelt with knees wide on the stage; Amber slipped her fingers under the elastic waistband of her sequined shorts to create an inviting space for the woman to tuck her dollar. The woman looked back at her friends, laughing in embarrassment, then with Amber’s help placed the money into the impersonator’s hot pants. She nuzzled the woman’s cheek with a thank you, stood up and spun to center stage.

Amber hit her mark as the stage lights exploded at the start of the chorus. The dancer “snapped and popped” to the music with the audience’s applause. The song slowed again and she slipped down the stairs stage left into the crowd. She danced from table to table with the song, teasing the male occupants, occasionally accepting a proffered bill and granting a kiss. She passed Mr. Reinholt, the club owner from St. Louis, who was enjoying her act so she slipped behind his chair to hug him tightly around the neck. He softly patted her arm; Amber replied with a kiss and continued on.

Amber scanned the audience. The normal blend of people: locals, tourists, couples, and a bachelorette party made up the crowd. An attractive yuppie couple watched her with interest as she crossed the floor to the young women celebrating their friend’s upcoming marriage. Amber pulled the bride-to-be away from her group and proceeded to give her a brief but sexy lap dance. To the presumed virgin’s mortification, Amber’s erotic gymnastics ended only when the young woman was forced to spank the petite impersonator’s sequined bottom. The crowd howled with laughter at Amber while she rubbed her red ass in mock pain; her bottom lip extended in an extreme pout. Amber allowed the wedding party to tuck several dollars into her hot pants, then to take photos before heading to the stairs leading to the stage. It was then she saw “Moustache.”

The big Latin Indian bodyguard stood beside Angel Corazon with one hand on the bar, the other in a back pocket; his eyes searching the nightclub. The Cartel deputy sat at the left end of the bar along the back of the club drinking a longneck beer. She met Corazon’s eyes and teased her way to the bar in the back. Amber danced along the line of sitting men collecting a few dollars before reaching the Latino. She provocatively nuzzled his ear then brushed against him with her bare belly when he reached out placing a $100 bill into the elastic band of her red shorts. Saying “gracias” she kissed his ear. The song having ended, Amber made her way to center stage amid the whistles and applause of the audience.

The stage lights dropped, applause mixed with whistles came from the audience. Amber caught her breath, dropped the money she collected into an old Chock Full of Nuts can perched on a stool, then reached out to Luke, the stage hand. After the lights dropped low, he had darted out onto the stage to give her a wooden baseball bat plus another prop she requested. Unseen by the audience, Amber held the small prop behind her in her right hand while the performer took the bat by the handle in her left hand. Quietly, she tapped the bat against her calf and waited for her next song.

When the spotlight came up again she stood alone on the stage. Behind her hanging on the curtain were two large mirrored panels surrounding a nude anatomically correct male mannequin. The entertainer held up her bat pointing it at the good-looking yuppie couple in the center of the audience, her lips matching the vocals of the song.

Right now he's probably slow dancing
With a bleached-blond tramp
And she's probably getting frisky

She glanced down at the other couples near the stage, her eyes hard and her white teeth clenched; she pointed the bat menacingly toward the men at each table, her other hand still behind her. The women good-naturedly continued to tease their tablemates.

Right now, he's probably buying
Her some fruity little drink
'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

The artist stepped closer to the stage’s edge, lifting the bat towards the back of the room, shaking her head negatively.

Right now, he's probably up behind her
With a pool stick
Showing her how to shoot a combo
And he don't know

Amber brought her hand from behind her and pressed the switch on the handle.
A wicked looking blade leapt from the handle catching the spotlight.

I dug my key into the side
Of his pretty little souped-up 4-wheel drive

Suddenly she spun around. With a quick snap of the wrist, she hurled the switchblade through the air and sunk the knife's tip deep into the mannequin‘s testicles. Amber heard exclamations of surprise ripple through the audience.

Carved my name into his leather seat
I took a Louisville Slugger to both head lights
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires
And maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

The Slugger still in her hand, Amber continued to lip sync as she sauntered across the stage, down the stairs to stop at the first table with a man and woman.

Right now, she's probably up singing some
White-trash version of Shania karaoke

The entertainer leaned across the table and pushed the bat into the man’s chest. Laughing, the man held up both hands and shook his head no.

Right now, she's probably saying, "I'm drunk"
And he's a thinking that he's gonna get lucky

Next Amber turned to a group of women and men. They appeared to be co-workers out for a night of fun. She sat down on the lap of the gentleman whom she presumed to be the boss, grinding her slim ass into him, stroking his chin with her fingers.

Right now, he's probably dabbing on 3 dollars
Worth of that bathroom Polo
Oh and he don't know

She nodded to each of the ladies who were laughing and nodding back. With her free hand, she flipped up the boss’s tie with her fingers, pushed off him, then moved on towards the center and the yuppies.

That I dug my key into the side
Of his pretty little souped-up 4-wheel drive
Carved my name into his leather seat

The man was tall, broad shoulders and handsome. A green polo shirt stretched across his chiseled chest and powerful arms, while khakis hid his muscular legs. His companion was stylishly dressed in a Day-Glo pink satin blouse, black mini skirt, expensive sandals with a matching purse. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

I took a Louisville Slugger to both head lights
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires
And maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

Amber placed her foot on the big man’s chair in between his legs. The petite girl-boy pressed the Louisville Slugger on his chest with both hands, moving her red lips inches from his. Whistles and cat calls came from the back of the night club.

I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl
'Cause the next time that he cheats
Oh, you know it won't be on me!
No, not on me

Oblivious to the bat pushing against him, the man stared into her eyes, reaching down to tuck a $50 bill into her tight red shorts. His beautiful partner lifted an eyebrow at the two. The performer closed her eyes, tilted her head, and pursed her wet lips. The man slid forward.

'Cause I dug my key into the side
Of his pretty little souped-up 4-wheel drive
Carved my name into his leather seat

Shoving him back, Amber twirled on one spiked sandal then strutted to the stairs. Laughter taunted the man who raised his hands up in disbelief. The woman shook her head and she rolled her eyes.

I took a Louisville Slugger to both head lights
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Oh, maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Oh, before he cheats

Arriving on stage Amber, shook the bat at the audience and stomped one foot. She marched over to a mirrored panel at the back of the stage and swung the bat hard. The mirror shattered. The young entertainer continued her assault on a twin panel to her left. That mirror was also blasted into millions of pieces.

'Cause I dug my key into the side
Of his pretty little souped-up 4-wheel drive
Carved my name into his leather seat
I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires

The performer tossed the bat to the floor then swaggered to the stage’s edge. Her chest rising and falling she pointed at the yuppie man.

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Oh, maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Oh, before he cheats

The song ended. Amber bowed to the applause, waved as she ran off stage only to reappear, take a second bow and duck back into the wings. The forward curtain closed. Quickly, Amber and the stage hand swept up the broken mirrors made of coated safety glass.

“That was Amberlynn Kain performing to Carrie Underwoord’s Before He Cheats. Give the bat wielding bitch another round of applause.”

Laughs, snickers, hoots and hollers mixed together with enthusiastic applause.

Amber changed after her act into a form fitting, blue mini dress but kept her blonde wig on. The dress had been altered to give help her illusion of much greater cleavage than the wearer had. After the other performers finished, all of the female illusionists went out to mingle with the crowd, stopping to talk, take photos with fans and even flirt with a few admirers. Amber spoke to several in the audience. She paused to congratulate the bride to be, next to thank the “boss” for being a good sport, and after that she went to Mr. Rienholt’s table.

“Hiya!” she gave the St. Louis club owner a big hug. “What brings you to Miami?”

“Well, I was thinking of expanding my club to include a drag show, when I heard about this new performer in Miami. I visited the Peacock’s website and guess who I saw?” He stopped to take a sip of his neat Scotch.

“Who?” She winked at him.

“My bodyguard…you, my dear! Your act is wonderful!” He complimented her. “Do you have time to join me in a drink?”

“Am-ber.” A voice called from behind.

The girl-boy looked back toward the voice. The short Latin Indian waved for her to come to the bar.

“A friend of yours?”

“Kinda of, yes,” she replied. “Do you have a pen?”

Rienholt reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a pen handing it to the entertainer. She quickly jotted down her number on a cocktail napkin.

“Here is my number. Call me tomorrow. I would like to see you,” she said, handing him the napkin and giving him a parting hug.

“I would like that.” He smiled and turned back to his Scotch.

Amber strolled over to the bar, sat on an empty stool next to Angel, crossed her slim legs and smoothed her dress out. Angel motioned for Manuel to step away from them. Amber watched “Moustache” walk toward the club’s restroom, then looked at the South American’s brown eyes briefly. She smiled politely at him and twirled her hair with one finger.

“Hiya. How are you tonight?” she asked. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes. You were muy bueno.”

“Thanks. I hope I didn’t frighten you too much. I am not that tough a girl.” She laughed lightly.

“No, I don’t think you are too tough at all.” His eyes followed up her legs, passed her hemline to linger on her pushed up breasts.

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” she began in Spanish. “I wanted to tell you, I’m sorry for the way I acted. I guess I wasn’t feeling well. I got sick on my way home in the cab.”

Angel cocked his head unsure of what to say.

Amber continued. “I had a good time at the club…but I became hot, disoriented, and nauseous.”

The Cartel deputy nodded. “It is okay. I would like to see you again. Are you busy later tonight?”

“No. Not at all. Did you want to go somewhere after the next performance?”

“I would like that.”

The crowd at the late show also liked the performance. The drag spectacle followed the same format, although Amber did not attempt to include an audience member in her act as she did with Captain Logan. More importantly, Angel stayed to watch the finale.

Amber removed the last of her stage makeup, stepped into a black tank top, white button up shirt, which she tied around her waist, and short shorts. She slipped on some cork wedge heels, grabbed her new purse, a large leather bag with three gold buckles, checking the interior pocket to verify the P232 was there before slinging the strap over her shoulder. She exited the club and stepped out onto Washington Street.

As on most weekend nights, there were still people milling about even at this late hour. Amber scanned the street scene quickly. Across the two lanes of traffic, she saw Corazon and Moustache leaning against their Lotus. She waited for a break in the stream of cars, crossed mid street over to where they stood. She smiled when they saw her and gave a small wave.

“You came,” Angel said.

“Yes. You didn’t think I would?”

“No, I knew you would. Manuel had his doubts.” Angel flipped his thumb indicating the big man.

“Oh, really?” Amber looked at the big Latino. “Why is that Manuel?”

“Es nada, chica. Nothing.” His tone was surly.

“What would you like to do tonight?” Angel asked.

“I don’t know. Hey, I got an idea. Manuel, will you drive us over to Beach Drive?”

He nodded. As they did before, the three got into the car and soon were driving north on Beach Drive. Amber indicated to Manuel to pull the car into a nearby parking lot. Manuel waited in the car as Angel and Amber got out of the sports car and began to walk along the path to the beach. After a few minutes they stopped to look along the shoreline.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked the Latino. The silvery moon, low in the sky, reflected off the still waters.

“Yes but not as beautiful as you.”

She laughed gaily. “Thanks.” She suddenly felt very girlish.

“No, I am serious.” He stopped and took her hands. “You are so pretty. So feminine.”

Amber looked at him. She stepped forward and kissed his cheek then turned to continue down the path. Angel arrested her momentum. He pulled her back to him and kissed her. He probed her gently with his tongue; she allowed him to go deeper into her mouth. The Latino pressed his body up against hers; he pushed her easily back against a nearby tree. The two stood in the shadows locked in an embrace. His body against her, Amber knew what this man wanted. Did she want it too? No, well…yes, but not with him she thought. She continued to kiss and let herself be kissed. His strong arms encircled her and his large hands explored her body. Lust grew in her. Well…maybe with him she persuaded herself. When Angel slipped a hand between her thighs, she opened them without hesitation. Her breath quickened as he rubbed her, she started to become excited. Amber’s own hand traveled down to Angel’s hard manhood. She gripped it, stroking him through his jeans.

Their kisses grew longer and deeper. Amber unzipped his jeans and inserted her hand immediately touching his hot skin with her hand. She wrestled his cock from his pants. It was uncut, about 6 or 7 inches, and hard. She moaned softly when it touched her leg. It had been almost 6 months since her last sexual episode at the motel with Randy. Unlike her previous encounter with Angel, she wasn’t being forced this time. She wanted him.

Yes, and he wants me! That was very clear to her. She broke off from kissing Angel to reach into her purse and pull out a condom. Quickly, she tore it open. With one hand she covered his cock’s thick head and pushed it down his shaft with her fingers. Amber fell to her knees in front of him. She guided his hard cock past her lips, the head stretching her lips, followed by the swollen shaft. His cock burned her tongue through the latex; he was aflame with passion.

She felt Angel’s fingers in her hair, massaging her, forcing his cock further down into her. Amber heard him moan, she felt him try to pull back and out of her mouth. Her fingers tightened on his hips not letting him move. She held him captive in her warm, wet mouth. She knew he was ready. His body began to shake. His movements became erratic.

While Amber continued to suck and knead his cock with her tongue, her own hand drifted down between her legs. Her hand slipped into her shorts and she began to rub herself. Angel encouraged her to pleasure herself as he bucked into her mouth. She quickly unzipped her shorts pushing them down to her knees. She shoved the black thong, actually a gaff, to one side letting her dick grow immediately to its full 4  ½ inch size. With her index finger and thumb she pumped her dick.

Watching Amber jerk off, Angel could no longer hold back. With a single thrust he drove into her mouth shooting squirts of his cum into the condom filling its tip. Again he tried to pull away from her but she would not let him; she kept his cock in her mouth. Amber mewed in ecstasy jacking her small cock faster. She exploded over herself in seconds.