"And how did you know I spoke English?" I asked.
She laughed and said, "Well, you could hardly be French."
She noted my raised eyebrow (too many Roger Moore movies in my youth I'm afraid) and understood the interrogative interjection that it was meant to be.
"Well, Watson, firstly you have no wine on the table," she explained. "Dining in France and drinking only water with your food is like getting to an orgy and then declaring your celibacy. Everybody wonders why you didn't just stay home. Secondly, there is the matter of the clothing: this season's GAP you-can-wear-this-without-offending-anyone range of casual wear, not a typical French choice. But, the most obvious sign of course is the English language copy of 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' that you've put on the table to keep people from joining you."
"!" I said, silently.
"I take it you're here for the conference," she continued. "You have that nerd-made-good look. My name is Lois. Lois Lewes. My mother valued alliteration."
She looked away from me, summoned the waiter by raising her hand and, in the process, rearranged the topography of her dress. I couldn't take my eyes from her breasts. I knew it was rude, perhaps even pathetic, but I was hypnotized by the sheer mass involved.
"That was your cue. You're supposed to tell me your name now," Lois said. "My face is up here, by the way. "
"Clarke Kent " I said, and my cheeks reddened as I struggled to keep my eyes focused above her neck.
"Yeah, right. That's a new line. I haven't heard that before," she laughed.
"No, really, it's my name," I replied, with an it's-not-my-fault tone.
"Cool. Now I feel like one of those characters in 'Magnolia,' linked by some huge chain of coincidence that challenges the nature of free will. Watch out for flying frogs."
Now it was my turn to laugh.
"I'm rather afraid that our waiter, who probably hasn't seen the movie, thinks that you've just used a derogatory term in reference to French pilots," I said.
"Screw him."
"I'd rather screw you," I said.
The moment the words left my mouth, I wondered who had said them. I wanted to look around for the culprit and give him a good thrashing. The easy, rapid pace of the conversation, combined with the impact of Lois's physical presence, had made me giddy. What had I done? I almost expected her to toss my glass of water in my face.
"I'm sorry…" I started, lamely.
Lois was no longer smiling. She was looking into me, carefully, as if searching for something. I felt like she was the one with X-ray vision, and I had no secrets. With speed surprising for her size, her hand moved under the table and found my erection. The sun seemed brighter than ever. I breathed.
"Oh," she said. "If this is you on mineral water, just wait until we get to the Bordeaux."
Then her hand was gone, back on her side of the table, but the place where she had touched me still tingled, and I knew there was now a wet spot on my GAP easy-fit chinos.
The conversation slowed to a canter after that. Over the next three courses, I learned that Lois was an MIT graduate, with technical expertise that made her a hot property in the telecommunications market. Like me, she was here for the conference. Unlike me, she had no intention of attending. She was going to "scalp some data," as she put it, give her name to a few recruiters, and have a damned good time. In our conversation, there was no mention of a significant other.
I charged the bill to my room. Lois checked the room number and said, "We'll go to my room. It has a better view."
I paused, surprised. Women don't react this way to me. Oh, sure, they have dinner with me, because I'm a "nice man," and a good listener. But, at the end of the meal, it's traditional for them to find someone who will show them a good time.
"Are you sure?" I said, sounding prim and ever so English to my own ears. "We've only just met…"
"No," she said. "So far, we've talked. We'll meet when we get to my room and take our clothes off." The waiter chose that moment to pick up the bill. I blushed.
Lois was standing now. "So, have you changed your mind?" she asked. "Or are you waiting for us to be formally introduced?"
She was smiling, but I glimpsed some vulnerability there. For once in my clumsy life, I did the right thing. I kissed her. Then I did it again.
Her room was a suite with a beautiful view of the Mediterranean. I didn't notice. As soon as we entered the room, Lois pulled the dress up and over her head. Her body glowed, and I was blinded by the heat from her. She smiled and knelt in front of me, unzipping my trousers without comment. I was about to have oral sex and I hadn't even had to ask, never mind beg. Then I came, all over her hand. I was mortified.
Lois laughed, a hearty, full-blooded sound, still holding my shrinking cock. If she had let go at that moment, I think I would have run from the room.
"Well, Clarke, that was faster than a speeding bullet," she mused. Grinning, she licked my sperm from her hand. "Now, let's see if we can find the man of steel." She moved her mouth onto my cock and flicked the underside with her tongue.
I should have been ecstatic, but in truth I was deeply depressed. I knew what would happen now. I would stay soft, she would get frustrated, then angry. And then she would tell me that I was a nice man, but it was time for me to leave.
"Ah," Lois said, sitting back on her heels, letting go of my cock. "It's like that, is it?" I felt dismal. She had gone from lust to leave in a couple of seconds.
She stood up. I took a last look at her glorious body and prayed that my limp flesh would choose that moment to show its appreciation. It didn't.
"I should go." I said.
"No," she replied. "You can't go until you come; and you will come."
"What?"
"I know what you need. We'll soon get rid of the Kryptonite effect. Just leave it to Lois." She folded her arms and let one hip jut out. "Now STRIP," she ordered.
No one had ever spoken to me like that. It felt weird. It felt good. I undressed. Lois tapped her foot impatiently as I started to fold my clothes, so I just let them fall to the floor. After a few moments, I was standing naked with my hands demurely held over my shrinking genitals.
"Put your hands behind your back and kneel", Lois commanded. I didn't question, but did as she asked.
Lois reached out and grabbed my nipple, twisted it briefly. "Good boy," she said, pushing her thumb into my mouth. I suckled obediently.
"I'm going to tie you now, Clarke." Lois was circling me, and from somewhere produced three scarves. She used one to tie my hands behind my back, pressing her breasts against my shoulders. Her luxuriant pubic fur brushed against my hands as she bound me with the scarf. Still pressed close against me, she folded a scarf and placed it over my eyes, tying it securely behind my head.
I felt excited, yet surprisingly relaxed. I gave myself up to Lois and her three scarves. Thus blindfolded and bound, all I could do was wait.
I must have sighed. Lois whispered in my ear, "One more, and you are mine."
Her fingernails scraped over my chest, down my belly. I felt her fingers move around my balls, pulling down gently but firmly. When she tied the final scarf there, my cock rose like a balloon filled rapidly with helium.
"You're mine now Clarke, until you come. And that won't happen for a long time yet."
Her voice was in front of me now. "Open wide, Clarke."
I did, and my mouth was filled with the satin-smooth warmth of her breast. She pushed into me until I was overcome by her flesh. It became difficult to breathe, as she held fast to the back of my head with one hand, and twisted my nipple with the other. But it was wonderful. My cock was so hard now that it throbbed in time with my pulse.
"Much better," Lois purred. "Now let's see if you're a good fit."