Goronio, or George if that’s easier
“Hola señorita. May I help with your bags?”
He stood in the doorway of the hotel, his untucked uniform shirt blowing in the breeze. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He was one of those men who I am sure came out of the womb and immediately began flirting with his nurses. You know the type. They just can’t help it. There was nothing subtle about him. His swagger, his smile, his general demeanor screamed sex. Not sexy, but sex. There is a world of difference between the two and he had the one that made the heat rise between your legs, not the one that made you want to scribble hearts in your notebook.
“I’m sorry. G…” Maggie wasn’t sure how to pronounce the name on his name tag.
“You may call me George, Señorita.”
“Yes, George. Please,” Maggie handed him her bag and let him gather the rest of her baggage from the bus as she walked into the resort. She smiled at the thought of him calling her señorita. She was far from a young thing, but still, she smiled.
Registration went smoothly but she was distracted by this dark mans luscious lips and the suggestive sparkle in his eyes. She could feel her wetness growing. George was trouble.
He was careful though, with the women. He knew which ones needed wooing and which just required a look and a smile. He knew which ones fantasized about hot vacation sex but when it came down to it were little more than a warm body. Warm bodies were easy to come by, they did nothing for him and he would rarely do more than flirt with them. The others were what he enjoyed. The ones who knew how to really have some fun. They wanted the real experience. The big black cock they could suck and ride and take wherever he wanted. Sometimes it would be two or more cocks. Hot, raunchy sex. That is what they wanted and that is what he readily delivered.
George had been Maggie’s bellhop on arrival, ensuring her room was ready and carting her bags to the seventh floor, and he was the one she wanted to take her orgasm at the end of the night. The question was how to go about it. She was sure he was propositioned by women all the time. How could he not looking like that in a place like this? She wasn’t sure about herself though. Coming off a less than amicable divorce after ten years of marriage, she was certainly not confident in her ability to get a man’s attention.
Maggie decided to just go for it. She wouldn’t be any further behind if he declined her advance. It had already been months without any kind of sex, another week or ten wasn’t going to be the end of the world. She poured herself a glass of wine, swigged it back in a few gulps then poured another. Wine would help her relax as she dolled herself up for the evening. She knew that little black dress was worth packing.
Later, downstairs at the bar, she had another glass of wine as she sat taking in her surroundings. There was a pianist playing old radio tunes on a grand piano at the far corner of the bar. It seemed funny to her, hearing “New York State of Mind” being played by a young local girl, in Cuba. The bar started filling up as guests finished their meals and she now longer found herself surrounded by empty bar stools.
“Buenos tardes, Señorita.” Maggie turned around to George’s smiling face.
“Hóla,” she nervously replied.
“Are you having a good time this evening?”
“I am.” She lifted her glass and said, “The wine is free and the pianist is wonderful.”
Maggie blushed. “No, pianist.”
She caught the mischievous look in his eyes this time, but still blushed.
George leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “Do you always blush at the mention of a penis? How would you react to a real one?”
“It would depend on how it was used.” Maggie even surprised herself with the boldness of that comment. She followed it up with large sip of wine. Classy she thought to herself, very classy.
“It would be used quite well I can assure you.”
“I would have to be the judge of that.”
George put his glass down then removed the empty glass from her hands and placed it next to his own on the bar. He then extended his hand to her. She accepted and slid off her stool, following as he led the way.
Standing there, holding his hand and waiting for the elevator to arrive, her confidence began to wane considerably. She had never picked a stranger up at a bar before. Granted, he was the instigator but still, she wasn’t that kind of woman. Or was she? It had been so long since she was in the single’s game she really had no idea. What if she didn’t know what to do? It’s just like riding a horse, I’ll be fine she thought. Wait, I’ve never ridden a horse before!
The elevator door was barely closed behind them when George pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. His hand, the one she had been holding, quickly found its way under her dress and to the wet spot that had been growing between her legs. She moaned softly when he lifted a finger to her mouth, sucking her own wetness from it.
Tonight, she thought, tonight I am going to be exactly this kind of woman.