It was the usual SubGenius hugger-mugger stuff right from the start.
Devious Stang working in mysterious ways calls me at almost one in the
morning and sez: "Go check into the St Elmotel--now," and then hangs up
without so much as a kiss my arse' let alone goodbye.
So, fifteen minutes later I am checking into the abovementioned
sleazo, 'hot pillow' motel, named after St Elmo Road where it has lain
in wait for the weak, unwary, horny and broke for many a year, back when
this spot was out in the boonies instead of on the edge of a major
I asked for a double and the dour, diffident desk clerk looks at me like
I was simple, then sneers as he hands me my key. I see his teeth which
makes me glad he hadn't smiled at me in welcome. "One forty-four, way
down on the end," he sez, and then goes back to his Harlequin Romance.
144 was indeed down at the end, right next to the Ready-Mix
concrete plant which was obviously running a full night shift from the din.
Inside, the walls were so thin they did nothing to shut out the sounds, but
the window mounted air conditioner was putting out enough noise to
effectively drown out the sounds of dozens of trucks being loaded with
hundreds of cubic yards of nice, fresh concrete.
The sign in front had boasted Free Cable TV in glowing neon so I
turned on the set to add to the general background noise. It was a Startrek
re-run and it was strange to see Bill Shatner without a paunch. I took a
seat on the faux-zebra couch, got out my fixings and rolled myself a good
sized frop cig while wondering just what the hell Stang had propelled me
into, when the phone rang, the cellular one in my pocket.
When I answered all I heard was heavy breathing and I was about to
hang up when she spoke.
"What room are you in?" It was a soft, vibrant and incredibly sexy
voice, a husky contralto that made my heart pound and my groin buzz.
"One forty-four, down at the end," I managed, still off balance
somewhat. I sure hadn't expected to hear from her. Wasn't sure if I was
happy now I had.
"Wait," she said, and broke the connection.
There was a tremor of intent in my hands as I folded up the phone
and I quickly picked up my unlit frop cig and changed its status with a
flic of my bic. What the hell was she doing in Texas? Why and how was Stang involved, and why was I in the middle of all this. I wasn't
even sure I wanted to see her again--she was so dangerous!
I felt suckered by all this and was working myself into a right
good snit when there a crunch of tires and a flash of headlights through
the faded Venetian blinds. A nearby truck revved up its diesel engine and
roared away with another load of material for another big building somewhere, the teevee suddenly seemed so loud it was like everyone was shouting at each other and that goddamned air conditioning unit howled like a ruptured banshee...then came her knock.
I came off the couch like the third stage of an Apollo launch
vehicle and threw open the door.
There she was. Suddenly the cheap, sleazy motel room became a luxury
suite at the Plaza Athenee in Paris, and the sounds of Bedlam faded into
an innocuous, almost soothing background machine-muzak.
She had adopted the Veronica Lake look, pure forties-retro hairdo,
very blond and over one Cleopatra-esqe eye in a shining cascade. She was
poured into a chocolate colored silk suit with padded shoulders that clung
to her lush figure like the seamed nylons that encased those amazing legs of
hers. The brown, lizard shoulder bag and matching heels finished out the
We stared at one another for a long and pregnant moment and I felt
my resolve crumble like Stang's moral fiber.
"Well Gordon, aren't you going to ask me in?" she asked, raising one
chiseled, perfect eyebrow, her head tilted back slightly so she could
regard me mockingly through those amazing lashes.
"But of course, forgive me madame," I waved her in, trying not to
look at her ass as she passed me and failing. "Truth is you took me
completely by surprise. You look yummy, as always, how are you Connie?"
She entered like the queen she was and wrinkled her nose as she
sized up the room.
"This is the sleaziest place I've been in for quite a while. I knew
I could rely on Ivan, he knows what I like."
Yeah, so does every other male and female you've come in contact with,
Connie turned towards me, tilting one hip slightly, feet in a
model's stance, pelvis thrust aggressively forward.
"So how the hell have you been Gordon? By the way thanks for
inviting me to your party!" the last bit delivered very sarcastically.
"Hell, Stang and Sphinx and Sterno were there, you'd have hated it!"
"Yeah, you're right, I'm sure it sucked. Only thing could have made
it worse would have been "Bob" making it. Talk about boring!"
She sat gracefully on the bed and then bounced on it once or twice
as if testing the springs looking at me coolly. I turned off the television
set and watched her as she rummaged in her purse for her pil box.
She took out one of her frop caps and popped it into that peach of a mouth.
Connie hasn't been able to smoke frop for a long time because it irritates
her throat, so she prefers to take it orally--of course Connie has a
penchant for taking things orally.
I waited for her to say something but she just leaned back on the
bed, her hands braced behind her, legs crossed and one foot kicking slightly
with her shoe dangling on her toes.
"So where's "Bob"?" I said in lieu of anything witty or even
intelligent, Connie has that effect on you. Her physical presence is so
overpowering you feel like you did in the eighth grade when you were trying (unsuccessfully usually) to strike up a conversation with that ONE girl.
Connie shrugged, a sight any male would enjoy. "Oh he's got some
stupid meeting with the Malaysian government about leases,
it will take days. That's why I'm here. She looked at me with those amazing
eyes of hers and then her delicately molded nostrils flared slightly and I
braced myself for the onslaught of this Uberfemme's pheremones. They weren't long getting there and in the next instant two things became very
noticeable to me. One: I had a raging erection that threatened to rip the
front out of my good slacks and two: It was suddenly more important, more
imperative that I fuck Connie than breathe!
"You really are an underhanded bitch aren't you," I said as I moved
towards her, stripping off my clothes.
"Whatever works big boy," she purred as she undid her buttons.
The next few moments seemed like a fast-forward of a hard core
porno tape. Connie's magnificent form, spread out on that bed would have
taken my breath away, if I'd had any left. She was completely naked except for her garter belt, hose and a small, soft, wrinkled leather pouch around her neck.
"What's the little bag?" I tweaked it gently.
"Oh it's where I keep my MWOWM interface," she panted. "I was always
losing it and so Ivan gave me this, it's the tanned scrotum of some guy
name Lou something or other who royally pissed old Stang off. But enough of
this conversation," and with that the consort of my guru went down on me
like a crash diving submarine with a killer pack of destroyers bearing down
The next thing she and I were tangled in a big, erotic mess.
Connie's pheremones have the same effect on ALL males and females, except
for "Bob" of course--that's one of the many reasons why Connie fucks around
so much, that plus her insatiable appetites.
Her mouth was like a mink-lined blender and she had enough suction
power to hoover out a shuttle bus, then a couple of those implants in her
throat and mouth kicked in and the mink blender became a woolly, fully
powered electric light socket. I felt my hair stand on end as I broached
her nether regions and I knew it was going to be a long night!
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