55 #Mementos

Jon hadn't been just talking earlier.  He really did like her, even if she was too uptight to have sex on the couch – or even make out on it.  They would eventually loosen her up to the idea, but not tonight.  Even the beige bed was getting bypassed tonight because he wanted to take a look at that boudoir wall and the mystery object hanging there. 

 

After spending days trying to convince his mind to come up with a vision of it, he was still drawing a blank.  What “proof” did she have for always looking past his job?  The curiosity was starting to eat at him.

 

What ate at Teddi was something different entirely.  When they crossed the threshold into the cauldron of color, she flipped from prude to lewd faster than he could say “tantric sex” (which was now on the bucket list, right between the beige bed and the couch).  She had no time for curiosity and held his face in both hands to keep him from checking out the shallow square box. 

 

"Lemme see," he grumbled as her instep glided seductively up the back of his calf.  Naked toes crept under the hem of loose cargo shorts, showcasing an impressive display of balance as she angled in for a kiss. 

 

"Later."

 

Fuck, she tasted good, even with the piney tang of that snobby gin.  When a tongue barged its way into his mouth, Jon instinctively sucked on it and jerked her hips against his. 

 

"Mmmmm…." 

 

He didn’t need that victorious purr to know she liked it.  He could taste the approval as plainly as an almond clit.  Knew she was getting wet.  Smelled eagerness as he kneaded her ass through the sundress. 

 

Unless he was badly mistaken, that ass was naked under there, and he crawled the fabric upward as the blonde Gypsy turned kissing into a sexual art form.

 

She fucked his mouth with a determination and skill that would make a hooker proud, except she wasn't in it for the money.  His lecherous partner held far more selfish motives.  She was in it for the personal satisfaction. 

 

Her carnal greed was a turn-on, and convenient for his own motives of the moment.  She was so engrossed in the finer details of swapping spit that Jon easily spun her in a lazy half-circle.  Nibbling at pouty lips, he eased just far enough out of the kiss to steal a peek…

 

"Hey," she rasped, clamping the grip on his jaw so that he wouldn’t turn away.  "Eyes closed, or at least on me."

 

His mistress was taking greed to a new level, but that wasn’t a problem.  He just had to show a little more creativity in manipulating the situation.

 

Having finally got all her sundress skirt bunched into his fists, Jon was pleased to discover that instinct hadn’t led him astray.  Ms. Proper was indeed going commando, and he skimmed a finger along the seam of her bare butt.

 

"You slutty little debutante," he chided with sing-song affection.  "I think you wanted me to fuck you against the foyer wall."

 

"Only you could make 'slutty' sound like a compliment," came the breathy observation against the corner of his mouth.  "And the only place I want you fucking me is here.  Now."

 

She held him in an iron grip, but he could fix that by getting a little more personal.  His middle finger took on the mission by gliding more firmly into the valley of her ass, and when he rubbed boldly against the centerpiece…

 

“Hey!”   

 

 Voila!

 

Just like that, she was more focused on clenching her cheeks together than holding him hostage.  The switch of gears secured his freedom and let Jon turn to the infamous wall. 

 

“Your ass is safe,” he consoled, withdrawing the offending finger and shifting her body to the side a bit.  “Now hump my leg a minute while I look at what’s hanging here."

 

"Damn you."

 

The anger to back up her curse wasn't quite there, and she didn't try to break away or deter him.  She just palmed his crotch and murmured, "Get it over with already.  But then..."

 

"Then we'll get as down and dirty as you want, baby."

 

She wasn't actually humping his leg, but Teddi slowly gyrated against it while massaging the fly of his shorts.  His dick didn't understand the delay any more than she did, and it was ready for action.  By Jon’s estimation, this would only take a minute, and the delay would count as foreplay.  Make things hotter.

 

Focusing on the shallow square box that was deeper than a traditional picture frame by about two inches, he found what appeared to be two oversized playing cards.  They were backed by a royal blue and black patterned material, and…. 

 

He leaned in for a closer look.

 

Those weren’t traditional playing cards.  Rather than a simple Queen of Hearts or King of Clubs, these cards were far more ornate.  The one on the left depicted an anguished brunette woman lying with her belly to the ground.  A raven watched from the tree above as she reached out, anguished by the multiple swords standing in her back while a black cat hissed at her side. 

 

It was… unsettling, but the other card was a complete contradiction to that. 

 

With hair knotted at her neck, the beachside blonde’s expression was a study in serenity.  A gauzy white sundress flowed around bare feet wading into the surf, where she collected water in a seashell for her cats. 

 

Both bore a banderole across the bottom, but he couldn’t make out the labels that would identify the characters.  That was due in part to the positioning of the cards and artistic font, although the bigger problem was the two mini booze bottles in the foreground.  The kind used for in-flight cocktails and hotel minibars. 

 

He easily recognized one of the labeled empties as a popular tequila brand, but the other he had to squint at before identifying it as gin.  He assumed that bottle was hers, but the rest of the puzzle pieces weren’t readily coming together.  If this was supposed to be some grand revelation that involved him, he wasn’t quite making the connection.

 

Placing pressure against Teddi’s backside put a halt to the bump and grind routine, but her hands didn’t still.  They continued to roam Jon’s back and stomach as he bade, "Tell me what I'm looking at."

 

Rather than giving him her eyes, she pressed into his neck and lightly sucked the flesh there.  There was an abrupt nip which she laved away with her tongue. 

 

The pain and apology both shot to his groin, but his big head was still focused on that frame.  If he held it at just the right angle, he could make out the writing on the brunette card: “Ten of Swords”. 

 

Swords?

 

Leaning to one side – bringing his neck-gobbling nympho with him – allowed him to make out the blonde’s distinction.  She was classified as the “Queen of Cups”, which made sense, considering a couple of the cats were sitting on a throne. 

 

What didn’t make sense was the terminology.  Cups.  Swords.  Where had he heard that before? 

 

Jesus, were those…?

 

"Teddi..."  He dropped the skirt and put a firm grip around her waist, trying unsuccessfully to ease away from her distraction techniques.  "Are those tarot cards?" 

 

Roving hands slowed without stopping, but she still didn’t look at him.  Warm air tickled his neck when she breathed, "Yes."

 

Tarot cards, fortune tellers and psychics weren't part of his everyday world.  As far as he could recall, he'd only seen tarot cards one other time in his life - on a night that involved a lot of booze, some questionable sex and a prediction that proved eerily accurate twenty-five years later. 

 

Was Dave right?  Was Maggie his Naked Tarot Girl?  Had she given these to Teddi?

 

But that gin bottle… 

 

Teddi might drink it, but she wasn’t dark-haired like the fortune-wielding woman of his past.  He was familiar enough with the light curls between her legs to know that for a fact.  Naked Tarot Girl’s pubic hair had been...  God, it was so long ago, but Jon had the vaguest recollection of rubbing her bald mound like a crystal ball. 

 

That didn’t do a damn thing to solve this riddle, so he lifted his shoulder to nudge Teddi out of its crook. 

 

"Talk to me, Cookie."

 

With a wrinkled nose, she finally looked him in the face and obliged by revealing, “You and I met once, long before the Cuban restaurant.  March of nineteen eighty-nine, to be exact, during my senior year at Boston College.  You were staying at the Four Seasons in Boston, between back-to-back Worcester shows.” 

 

Boston in nineteen eighty-nine rang a bell.  A loud one. 

 

Those Worcester shows were a couple weeks after his birthday.  Naked Tarot Girl had wished him a belated before blowing his “candle” and delivering the life predictions that echoed in his head six weeks later – at the altar of a Las Vegas wedding chapel. 

 

Before now, the blow and fortune-telling were the only things he recalled with any clarity.  Seeing the cards displayed on the wall, though….  They were the visual prompt his old memory needed to revisit that night.        

 

The first show ran long in Worcester, and the after party ran longer.  He was feeling no pain by the time he stumbled into his room and found a half-dressed girl in the king-sized bed.  Her leather jacket was draped over a chair, and the matching corset left her shoulders bare except for a cascade of dark, permed hair that shifted as she casually flipped cards on her leather and lace lap. 

 

Trim legs extended from an inky suede miniskirt down to crossed ankles covered in boots of the same supple material.  Black lace pantyhose veiled all the skin in between, and her toe tapped to the beat of the show finale still ringing in his ears. 

 

She hadn’t seemed to be ruffled when toasting him with a little bottle of what he now knew was gin, but that might’ve been because of the other empties lined up on the table.  Although, in retrospect, maybe she wasn’t as confident as she seemed.  There had been a distinct tremor in the voice that announced she’d saved the “good” tequila for him. 

 

The same tequila brand showcased in the box five feet away from him now.  Blonde or brunette, Teddi had to be Naked Tarot Girl.

 

“Un-fucking-believable.”

 

“Isn’t it?”  With a mildly embarrassed laugh, she averted her attention to his t-shirt again, crawling fingers under the hem while simultaneously dismissing, “I’m sure you don’t remember, but it was a noteworthy event in my life, so I kept a couple of mementos.”

 

“Oh, I remember.”  Startled blue eyes flew wide as her hands froze on his belly.  “Your hair was dark, your pussy was bald, and even though I couldn’t say what name you used, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Teddi.”

 

Heat colored her cheeks, and he would swear that she’d lost all ability to blink.  This clearly wasn’t how she’d planned for this scene to unfold.   

 

“I…. Uh….  I….  Damnation.”

 

For someone with a slew of communication degrees, Dr. Montgomery’s doing a shit job of communicating.