Spring Fling!

Do you know how hard it is to blog about spring when you're watching the sky for snow? I just got to the bitter wastelands of the north from Florida, I'm not used to cold weather after Valentine's Day! 

So let's skip on out of the Great Plains and head south for Argentina where, I hear, things are getting steamy....

Spring Break Shorty

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The streets steamed. Phantom wisps of condensation curled up from the cobblestone reminding Forest that he was a long way from home. He'd headed out early, mountain time in America, and been caught around lunch. His handlers had roughed him up a bit, and then shoved him on a chartered jet with a gun and a head shot of an angry woman. It'd been over a year since anyone in The Company hunted him down to demand their usual blood price. He thought he'd shaken them. 

He wasn't even sure what city he was in, somewhere in South America maybe. All the signs were in Spanish and the muggy Easter mornings were not something he normally associated with cities in the northern hemisphere. The humidity bothered him. It had to be pushing ninety-nine percent and the city dripped. Big, fat blops of water dripping off roofs into the cobblestone streets. 

Cutting across the street he entered the lobby of an elderly hotel by the side door. No one looked up. This wasn't a big city, it probably wasn't any bigger than the map dot in Wyoming he did his grocery shopping in. But that's where his target was holed up. He took the stairs two at a time. Room 427, they'd said. Kill the tyrant, they'd said. One last time, they'd said, and that he didn't believe. They'd promised it was over since every job he'd done starting at seventeen.

He was a killer, the son of a killer, and if his dead father's ancestors weren't coldblooded killers too he'd eat his hat. Some bloodlines were too tainted to ever be clean.

Room 427 was in a corner. He twisted the silencer onto his gun and twisted the door knob. The door swung open silently. He stepped in, closed the door behind him, and locked it.

It was a fancy room, a proper suite with a little foyer and closet, then a bedroom beyond with windows open to a balcony with a wrought iron railing. The only light came from two candles on opposite ends of the room, flickering in mirrored sconces. A giant four-poster bed carved from wood and draped with filmy gold fabric dominated the room. Peeking out from under the pale blanket he saw a dainty foot.

Forest stepped forward, bringing the gun up.

The woman in the bed rolled over, the blankets falling away so he saw a stretch of bare leg and back. "¿Hola?" She sat up, the gauzy curtain the only thing between him and her. "¿Hay alguien ahí?" She turned.

His hand started shaking. He needed to pull the trigger, shoot, and leave. But he wasn't sure. Maybe it was the wrong room. Maybe...

She brushed the drapes aside and leaned forward, one foot dangling over the edge of the bed, not quite reaching the floor. "Bueno, no es que una deliciosa sorpresa? ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí? ¿Vas a matarme?"

"I don't speak Spanish."

She stood up, gloriously nude. The candlelight made her golden tan skin incandescent, a carnal angel painted in gold. "In that case, I speak English." Her smile was sultry as she walked toward him.

Outside, the chapel bells chimed midnight. Easter morning. His palms were growing sweaty. He took a deep breath, and then she was in front of him, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, slipping down to unbutton his shirt.

"I said, aren't you a delicious surprise? I didn't know the hotel gift-wrapped like this. No?"
One by one the buttons came undone. Touch by touch, his heart raced ever faster. "Um...I..."

She leaned in, pink tongue darting out and flicking his nipple. She purred, and pushed his shirt off his shoulders.

He shivered. "No. You need to..."

Her hands slid down his arms until they rested on his. With a curious look she lifted the hand with the gun, studying it as if she'd never seen one before. "This, I think, is not what people mean by showing a girl your big gun. Mmm? No shotgun wedding. No toys, on the first date." She winked at him.

His hand spasmed open, dropping the gun to the floor with a thud. "I'm not here for room service."

"It's raining," she said. His floor dropped to the ground with his gun. "Don't you know, you don't fight in the rain. You make love in the rain."

"I..." She'd turned him around somehow, and now he was falling back into the soft, warm bed and she was straddling him naked. "Wait. No!" He pushed her back. "No."

She pouted, lush red lips pursing so prettily.

"I can't. I came here for a job."

"To shoot me?" Jungle-green eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

"I kill a bad person. A tyrant. Someone who is abusing and hurting your people. I'm sorry. I've got to go."

She didn't move off his legs.

He was going to have to pick her up. And as soon as he touched that soft, golden skin he'd be lost.

"Argentina had no tyrant," she whispered as she leaned in, full breasts brushing against him. "We had an election in November. An old woman won, Rosa. She is firm, maybe, but no tyrant. Not a bully." The woman caressed him, fingers finding the belt loops of his five-button wranglers. "I think, you like me better than her. Hmm?" She nuzzled her nose against his. "I'm much prettier."

"Undoubtedly." His back arched off the bed as her fingers worked the first button of his jeans loose and brushed against skin. "STOP!"

She froze.

"I said no."

"Your lips say no. Your body says yes." She stroked the hard ridge under the denim.
He shuddered. "Yes."

"Yes?" Her lips brushed across his.

"Mmm...no. I mean no! I mean, yes, that feels good. But no." He scrambled backwards, falling off the far edge of the bed and sitting there panting as the rain drummed on the balcony behind him. "I can't."

She crawled across the bed in pursuit. "Why not?"

"I don't know your name." Worst. Excuse. Ever.

"Maria."

He stared at her green eyes. Why green? Why did he have to have a weakness for green eyes? He shook his head. "Everyone down here is named Maria, right? So if I got you pregnant, how would I know? It just, it wouldn't work." He felt key body parts starting to relax. There were enough bastards in his family without adding another generation to the mess.

"I take pills every day, yes?" She mimed eating something. "Pills are good. No babies." She stepped off the bed and for a moment all he could think about was how good those long legs would feel wrapped around him.

"Um, yeah. Maria. You're a very pretty girl."

"A very sensual woman," she corrected. "And one you want. Yes."

He stood up, tried not to get near her. "I have a girlfriend at home."

She eyed him skeptically. "A girlfriend?"

"A, lady friend. That I'm courting."

"How dull." She rolled her eyes. "Have you seen her naked? No? No." Maria shook her head. "Have you kissed her?"

"Um..." He'd thought about kissing her, the girl back home. Thought about how to say hello, and how he was going to introduce himself, and everything. And one day he was definitely going to say hello.

Hot hands rubbed across his bare abs. "Um is not yes." Her arms locked around his neck, and her lips pressed against his.

Reason flew out the window.

There was a beautiful woman seducing him and the promise of maybe winning a smile from Ranger Smith back in Wyoming was burning away in heady fires of lust. He gave in, opened his mouth, and invited her tongue in to play. She clung to him even tighter, smooth skin rubbing against his chest, as he grew tighter and tighter.

She stepped back. He followed, needing to keep touching her, kissing her.

A gun barked in the night. He slammed Maria into the bed and lay on top of her, breathing heavily.

She stared vacantly out the window, unmoving.
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