His Name Is Sir (The Power to Please #3) (6 page)

Ron reached a hand down under Patsy’s pussy and she let out a grateful moan. I lowered my arms and put a hand on Ron’s shoulder for balance, and slid my other hand under my panties to stroke my clitoris. I clamped down and focused on building to a release.

Patsy was rapidly reaching her peak, and I struggled to catch up with her. We were supposed to come together, or at least as close together as we could manage.

Ron reached out and grabbed me behind my neck, forcing me to look at him. He held my gaze and I stared into the desire I saw there. That was all I needed to see. My hips jolted and my pussy throbbed.

He pulled me forward and kissed me hard, open mouthed, his tongue driving inside my mouth. This wasn’t in the script, but I couldn’t have cared less about any script at this point. I rubbed myself and feverishly returned Ron’s kiss.

This was a man who had perfected the art of the kiss.

Patsy began crying out her orgasm, and her twitches underneath me drove me higher until I was forced to pull back from Ron, panting for breath, clamping down inside, and finally cried out my own release.

As Patsy and I fell down from the heights, Ron leaned in for one more quick kiss, a hard smooch on my lips. He gave Patsy’s ass a satisfied squeeze, then he was gone, sliding out of Patsy and turning to Elaine. He scooped Nurse Elaine up in his arms and strode off with her to his pretend office.

From where I was, I could see well enough past the divider to watch him lay Elaine down on her back on the top of the desk, her ass hanging just a bit off one end. He stripped her panties off, spread her legs out wide, then drove inside her.

He let out a loud growl of pure pleasure, and Elaine gasped. Then his hands closed over her big breasts and, quite simply, he proceeded to fuck the hell out of his wife.

I thought, damned straight. Then I thought, how was I going to get off this table? Elaine had helped me down in rehearsal. Duh. Didn’t know what we’d been thinking.

Patsy whispered behind me, her voice still breathy and strained. “Just go ahead and sit on me. You’re not too heavy.”

I did what she said, and hoped she was okay under me, then I turned myself to the side so I could hop off the table. When I was safely on the floor, I leaned down next to her smiling face.

I asked, “You okay?”

She closed her eyes, “Better than okay.”

I grinned and patted her head.

She managed to crawl her way up onto the cushioned table where she collapsed on her stomach.

I tried to make my way back to my post as unobtrusively as possible. I took four final cards from the easel, not yet revealing what they said, then sank down to the floor and leaned against one of the wooden legs.

This was when I was supposed to look spent, worn out from all the action, ready to nod off. I made my best effort to do what the scene called for, but I was no actress. The truth was that I was still buzzing inside. The little orgasm I had managed up on the table wasn’t enough.

Listening to Elaine’s cries of pleasure while Ron fucked her, I could only regret that I had declined Ron’s services when they were offered.

When we were going over the script at the bar Wednesday night, I wasn’t sure how they would react when I said I wasn’t comfortable enough yet to have sex in front of so many people. I explained that everything else I would be doing was plenty of uncharted territory for one night.

They assured me it was fine, that they wouldn’t want me doing anything that made me uncomfortable. It was a relief. When I decided that I could try masturbating, Elaine came up with her idea of me straddling Patsy.

Now I was wishing I hadn’t split hairs about the sex. I mean, there wasn’t much difference between doing what I had done and doing what I could have done.

I could have been feeling genuinely satisfied and exhausted, instead of being a crappy actress. The thought struck me as funny, and I fought to keep a grin off my face.

Ron had terrific stamina, but he couldn’t last forever. The second time Elaine came, Ron bellowed out his own release and pounded into his wife one last time.

A smattering of applause came from behind the windows, and I squelched down another outbreak of the grins.

I snuck a peek out of the corner of one eye, to see if Patsy was up and moving. Sure enough, there she went, heading over to where Ron’s huge bulk was slumped over the petite Elaine. I wondered at how she could bear his weight, but she didn’t appear to be minding it in the least; her eyes were closed and a big, satisfied smile stretched across her face.

Patsy ran a hand down Ron’s back. Dr. Ron grumbled. Patsy leaned down and pretended to say something to him.

I held up one of the poster boards. It read, “Oh, Doctor. I forgot to mention ...”

After a few beats, I dropped that board and revealed the next one. “I also need a Rectal Exam!”

Ron pushed himself up on his elbows, a shocked look on his face, while Elaine and I both jerked awake, our eyes wide and our mouths shaped into surprised “O’s.”

Elaine and I quickly shifted our expressions and turned our eyes to Dr. Ron, both of us sending him sultry smiles and expectant looks. Ron looked horrified, staring first at a pleased Patsy, then at both of his naughty nurses.

He finally gave a big sigh and lowered his head in humorous acquiescence.

I held up another poster. “More Overtime! Oh No!”

I waited while the audience laughed, then raised the final card. “A Doctor’s Work Is Never Done. The End.”

I dropped the last card and climbed to my feet, then joined my fellow players in the center of the room for a few bows, enjoying the clapping and cheers from our spectators. I heard one man yell out, to everyone’s delight, “Encore! Encore! We want to see the rectal exam!”

We all laughed, and made another bow. No, there would be no encore.

I looked into the rooms, feeling happy and a little embarrassed, though I couldn’t have said why. For once, I avoided eye contact with Gibson Reeves.

And then we all gave one last bow before Elaine closed the curtains on our little performance.

“All clear!” she said, flipping off the speaker and music buttons.

We breathed big sighs of relief and congratulated one another. Ron gave us all bear hugs that threatened to snap our spines. We made our happy way into the dressing/recovery room for some much needed rest and liquid refreshment.

In no time I was snuggled in my bathrobe and curled up in a big recliner with a bottle of cold water. Elaine, Patsy and Ron were also wrapped up in fuzzy bathrobes and snuggled together on the cushy sofa. Ron patted his lap and winked at me. I laughed, but shook my head. I was happy where I was, watching the three of them together.

We weren’t given much time to recuperate before someone knocked on the door.

Elaine jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. “Our fans!”

She opened the door and five or six people rushed in, all of them smiling and ready to congratulate us on our fun and sexy show.

I recognized some of them and greeted them from my chair, then hung back and listened to everyone discuss what a good time they’d had.

It was a treat to see how happy Ron and Elaine were. Elaine had worked hard to pull off her present for Ron and I couldn’t have been more pleased that they were thrilled with the outcome.

I slowly sipped my water, relaxed and enjoyed the brouhaha.

Eventually, the “fans” left us alone again, telling us they’d wait in the club and that they had a big table reserved for everyone.

Ron, Elaine and Patsy futzed around, cleaning up in the small attached bathroom, finding their clothes, and getting themselves back in order. It wasn’t until they were ready to go that they noticed I was still settled in my recliner.

Elaine frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

I smiled. “Yeah. I just need a little alone time, a few minutes, that’s all.”

“Okay, honey,” she said. “Take all the time you need. We’ll be in the club whenever you’re ready to join us.”

Ron came over, gave me a pat and a peck on the top of my head.

Patsy smiled at me, then said, “I know we can leave our stuff in here until we’re ready to leave, but shouldn’t we clean up the big room or something?”

Elaine snorted. “That’s what the trainee subs are for.”

The three of them chuckled

Elaine pulled herself upright, smoothed down her skirt that clung to her curvy hips. “Time to meet our public.”

And with a farewell of dramatic waves, the three of them left the room sideways, arm-in-arm.

I shook my head at their silliness and watched them go.

Chapter 4

The room fell blissfully quiet as soon as the door closed behind them. I leaned my head against the cushiony back of the recliner and closed my eyes.

For the Hoytes and Patsy, this had just been another night of fun, something they had probably done many times before. But for me, this night was something new. I needed some time to process my feelings.

What were my feelings, anyway?

A jumble, that’s what they were. Happy, for one, because everything had gone well. Shy, for another, a little embarrassed to go talk to the people who had just watched what I did tonight. Throw in a dash of latent arousal, and the jumble was complete.

Except for one thing ... I felt like I was wanting something. Something more. I should have accepted Ron’s offer to climb on his lap, to be held in his big strong arms, comforted, though I didn’t know why I should need comforting.

Odd. All these feelings.

I sipped my water and let my thoughts drift. I was close to dozing off when I heard a knock on the door.

I smiled. It would be Elaine, or Ron, coming to check on me.

I climbed out of the chair, walked over and opened the door.

I said, “Oh!”

It wasn’t Elaine or Ron. It was Gibson Reeves.

He was as handsome as ever, dressed casually tonight in an open-necked black shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans.

He gave me a steady look and said, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. When you didn’t come out with the others, I thought that perhaps ...”

I said, stupidly, “Oh.”

He asked, “So, are you okay?”

“Oh, yes. Of course. Fine. Just resting.”

“I’m glad. Can I come in?”

Without thinking, really, I gave the polite response of, “Sure, come in.”

He walked past me. I caught his spicy scent as I closed the door. How well I remembered that scent, and I felt a wistful twinge at the memory of The Businessman, as I once dubbed him before I knew his name.

Gibson settled on the sofa and I curled myself back into the recliner. I picked up my bottle of water and busied myself by suddenly needing to read the label. I felt Gibson’s inscrutable gaze on me.

I couldn’t stand the silence. I asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

Damn. I floundered around, trying to think of something to say.

I asked, “Did you enjoy the show?”

I almost groaned aloud at such a dumb question. It would make it seem as if I were begging for compliments or something.

Gibson said, “I did, yes.”

And that was all he said. Back to silence.

I said, “It was Elaine’s present for her husband, Ron.”

“Yes, I heard that.”

Silence again.

Oh, for crying out loud, I thought. The man could help me out a bit, maybe speak a sentence longer than four words. Why was he here, anyway, if all he was going to do was sit there and stare at me? And why did I let him in the room? Stupid, stupid automatic manners.

I didn’t even like the man. He should be aware of how I felt about him, considering the way we parted the last time I saw him. I don’t think I even deigned to return his farewell before he left.

My stubbornness kicked in and, much to my relief, overrode my nervousness. Fine, if he wanted to play this all weird and strange, and silent, then I wouldn’t be the one to stop him. I sipped my drink and held my tongue.

Tick tock. Tick tock. If there had been an old clock in the room, that would have been the only sounds to be heard.

Then seemingly out of nowhere, he asked, “Is it true that you’re no longer seeing Michael Weston?”

I looked at Gibson, hard. His expression was unreadable as usual. I doubted mine was. The man finally found a topic of conversation and he picked the one I least wanted to discuss.

I asked, “Where’d you hear that?”

“It’s not important.”

“It is to me. If someone is gossiping about my personal life, I’d like to know who.”

“This is a smaller community than you’d think. It’s difficult to keep secrets.”

“That’s not possible. I hardly know anyone.”