She didn’t want to wait anymore, but before she could raise her head and demand release, Mr. Hayes used both hands to spread her open and wrapped his lips around her bright pink nub.
"Oh f**k," she cried out, her voice echoing through the empty restaurant.
Mr. Hayes continued to suckle and slipped two fingers into her, pumping in and out with a rhythm that matched his pulsing sucks. Over time, Tracy could feel herself starting to fall over the edge. She reached both of her shaking hands up and buried them under her now contorted tank top and bra, massaging her already erect ni**les with tight pinches and twists.
Before she could come, Mr. Hayes pulled his mouth away from her. He knew her well enough to know when to pause for air. It was, however, only a brief interruption. Almost immediately he went back to work, this time using his tongue to rock back and forth over her aching clit. At the same time, he curled the two fingers inside of her upward and coaxed them forward, massaging Tracy’s most delicate spot.
Every pound and lick came together at just the right time, pushing Tracy into the first throes of her orgasm. She screamed out and ground her h*ps toward him, forcing his skilled tongue against her wet area. The racing waves of ecstasy spread out through her body, making her hands and feet tingle wildly.
When he was sure that she had finished completely, Mr. Hayes slipped his fingers out of her tight channel and walked forward on his knees, eventually coming to rest so that Tracy’s dripping folds rested up against his designer blazer. He reached up, wrapped both hands around the back of her neck and pulled down her head so that he could kiss her once more. Right away, Tracy’s own sweet taste melted between them.
"Come on," Mr. Hayes said after pulling away. "Let’s go home and get some rest."
Tracy knew that there was so much more work to be done, but she also knew damn well that no amount of coffee would be able to revive her from the deep sleep that she could feel coming.
She sighed, "Okay. Okay."
Mr. Hayes helped her stand up and slip her shorts back on, forgoing the panties all together. Once that was done, he took the keys out of her back pocket, lifted her up, and carried her out of the restaurant. On the way out, he locked the heavy deadbolt and stuffed the small key ring into a pocket in his slacks.
From there, it was only a few feet to his car.
No sooner than the door slammed shut did Tracy start to drift off. The plush leather beneath her, though cold on her na**d thighs, was like a soft embrace that lulled away all of her stress. Every care and worry melted into the finely-stitched seat, along with whatever tenuous grasp on reality that Tracy still possessed.
She didn’t even hear Mr. Hayes slide into the driver’s seat next to her; didn’t even wince as the stabbing, white flash returned with a powerful vengeance.
Tracy felt dizzy, like the world its self had begun to spin faster on its axis. Everything around was a white blur that was streaked by a dizzying, swirling mix of blue and a deep, blood red. As if in her own little bubble, Tracy watched the dancing colors move around her in a perfect sphere, blocking out whatever lay on the other side.
She reached out, but with great apprehension. Slowly, carefully, two of her finger tips extended out toward it. She could feel an icy wind coming off of it; one that was starting to get stronger. Her hair began to whip around her head, blocking her vision out in quick flashes. All the while, she still couldn’t muster the courage to touch the thing.
The wind, feeling to Tracy like it was blown straight from the Arctic, blew even stronger. It forced her back a little and she dropped her arms down so that they could wrap around the thin nightgown that covered her supple body.
"Paul?"
She never just called him Paul, but it seemed to make sense to her right then.
Though the fluttering chunks of her hair, Tracy saw a large hand break through the mist, which had by then formed into large, black clouds. On one knuckle, a tiny crescent scar caught her eye. Had he gotten hurt?
"Paul! I-"
The hand slapped down onto her arm and squeezed her so tightly that she could feel the tendons in her wrists crackling. Then, with a powerful jerk that made Tracy feel like the wind had been knocked out of her, it forced her up.
In the car, one of the many yellow street lights that dotted the street passed by overhead and illuminated the sleeping woman in a brief flash. Mr. Hayes looked into his rear-view mirror and then turned his attention to Tracy. Her nightmares had been keeping both of them up at night.
"Paul," she muttered softly. The sound of her voice speaking his first name took him by surprise, but he remained silent.
Suddenly, Tracy gasped loudly and turned over in her reclined seat so that she was facing away from her concerned lover. Mr. Hayes reached a hand out and stroked her head softly as he turned his gaze back to the road.
"What is going on with you?"
The powerful hand jerked her back to her feet, forcing her eyes open just to keep herself upright. In front of her, a man that wasn’t Paul Hayes stood. In fact, Tracy had no idea who he was. The clouds and colors were long gone, leaving them in an open plane of icy white under a blue sky.
The man’s deep brown, almost black eyes pierced into Tracy’s thoughts. He was a short man, but wrapped in muscle several times over. His jaw was locked tightly, making the muscles running under his black, buzz-cut hair bulge outward.
The two stood there for a while, just staring, before the man sprang toward her like a lion. In seconds, he had forced her to the ground and pinned her down. Tracy’s already short night dress flipped up, exposing a pair of lacy, red panties.
Underneath her body, which began to throb wildly from the surge of adrenaline, the ground felt like one giant slab of ice. It sent a violent chill racing through her spine and made her previously soft ni**les stand out immediately.
"Who are you?" she tried to yell and bucked her body against the man. "Get off of me!"
The man grabbed each of her wrists again, though just as hard as the first time, and slammed them down onto the frozen ground. The force was enough to make her br**sts bounce up and down, exposing the very edge of one of her pink ni**les.
Tracy tried to scream for Paul. She could feel her mouth moving, could feel the straining vibrations making her vocal chords spasm, but there was no sound except for the constant whooshing of the cold wind racing over them. She tried again to push his body away, this time using her feet to try and kick him off of her.
The man growled- she could see it in the way that he gritted his yellowed, crooked teeth- and pushed her down again. He was like quicksand: the more that she fought, the closer the two became.