Chapter Eleven Keeping it Clean
Keeping it Clean
"Hey, nice to meet you," Dorothy said, extending her hand across the narrow gap between the parked cars.
Red reached out and took it. Dorothy's grip was firm, athletic, and practiced, born of lifting heavy weights and maintaining a pristine physical condition.
Red's hand was a completely different story.
His palm was heavily callused, thick with the rough, unyielding texture of a man who had spent decades doing hard, unforgiving labor.
Dorothy paused for a fraction of a second.
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrow twitched as she felt the coarse, weather-beaten skin enveloping her fingers.
Melody held her breath. She was certain the illusion was about to crack.
She waited for Dorothy’s eyes to widen with recognition, for the fitness instructor to realize that Melody’s "grandpa" was the very same homeless man she passed almost every night in the gym.
Instead, Dorothy’s expression smoothed out into a polite, respectful smile. She clearly wrote the roughness off as the hallmark of a hardworking, blue-collar grandfather who had spent his life providing for his family.
"You have quite the grip, sir," Dorothy said pleasantly. "Melody talks about you all the time."
“Do I?” Melody frowned.
"She's a good girl," Red replied, his voice a raspy, warm rumble that gave absolutely nothing away. "Takes excellent care of her grandpappy. I’m very proud of her."
"You should be," Dorothy agreed, finally turning her bright, eager eyes back to Melody. She was entirely clueless. "Melody, I was actually going to message you later. The response to our last video together are absolutely insane. I’ve never seen so many likes and views."
"Really?" Melody asked, forcing her voice to sound casual and professional, even as her pussy still throbbed from being mercilessly pounded less than ten minutes ago.
"Yes! We need to capitalize on this momentum," Dorothy insisted, leaning against the side of her SUV. "I was thinking we should do another collab next weekend. Maybe at your house this time? We could do a whole home-workout routine, followed by a cool-down stretching segment."
Melody’s mind spun. The thrill of getting away with this monumental lie was a powerful, intoxicating drug. Standing here in the bright afternoon sun, making business plans with a fellow influencer while her elderly, secret lover, the guy who hangs out at the gym, gave her an incredible rush.
"That sounds perfect, Dorothy," Melody agreed eagerly, using the business talk as the perfect excuse to wrap up the conversation before disaster could strike. "Grandpappy is flying back out of town tomorrow anyway, so my house will be completely empty next weekend. Let’s definitely set that up."
"Awesome. I'll text you the details," Dorothy said, giving them both a final wave before climbing into her SUV.
Melody and Red got into Melody’s car. She didn't start the engine immediately. She gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead as Dorothy’s vehicle backed out of its spot and drove away.
The silence in the car stretched for exactly three seconds before Melody let out a breathless, triumphant laugh. She slumped back against the driver’s seat, the tension draining out of her shoulders, replaced by an exhilarating high.
Red chuckled deeply from the passenger seat, highly amused by the entire encounter.
"You are one cool customer, sugar. I thought for sure she was gonna clock me. I see that girl walk past me five nights a week."
"She didn't suspect a thing," Melody giggled, turning to look at him. "You played the part perfectly. You’re the sweetest, most respectable Grandpappy a girl could ask for."
"Well, I aim to please," Red murmured, his eyes dropping to her chest.
Melody started the car and merged onto the main road, heading back toward the downtown district. The mischievous danger of the mall had run its course, and as the towering, elegant facade of the Chesapeake Hotel came into view, the mood inside the car shifted.
The public thrill gave way to a deeper, more profound sense of intimacy.
This was their final night in their luxurious, private bubble.
Tomorrow, Red would return to the streets, and to hiding out in the gym, and Melody would return to her ring lights and workout mats.
She wanted to make these last few hours count.
They rode the elevator up to the Presidential Suite in comfortable silence. Once the heavy oak door clicked shut and the deadbolt was thrown, the outside world ceased to exist.
"Let's get you out of this suit," Melody said softly.
She stepped close to him, her fingers reaching up to loosen the knot of his dark tie.
Red stood perfectly still, allowing her to undress him.
She slid the charcoal gray jacket off his wide shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the plush carpet.
She unbuttoned the stiff white dress shirt, parting the fabric to reveal his tanned, leathery chest and the thick mat of silver hair.
Melody leaned in and pressed her lips against his sternum, kissing the faded scars and the weathered skin. She appreciated the rugged, hardened man beneath the ill-fitting clothes. He was a survivor, a man stripped down to his absolute essence, and she loved the raw masculinity of him.
"I'm going to draw us a bath," she whispered against his collarbone.
She left him by the bed and walked into the massive, opulent bathroom.
The centerpiece of the room was a huge, freestanding marble soaking tub, easily large enough to accommodate two people comfortably.
She turned the gold fixtures, letting steaming hot water roar from the faucet.
She poured in a generous amount of the hotel’s expensive bath gel, watching as thick, rich, frothy bubbles began to multiply and fill the basin.
Melody shed her emerald green lingerie, placing the expensive lace carefully on the marble vanity. When she turned back around, Red was standing in the doorway, completely naked, watching her with an admiring hunger.
"Get in," she invited, stepping over the wide marble rim and sinking into the hot water.
Red joined her. He lowered his tall, aching, liver-spotted old frame into the oversized tub, letting out a long, rumbling groan of satisfaction as the heat enveloped him. They stretched out, sitting at opposite ends, their legs tangling together beneath the opaque blanket of white bubbles.
The hot water worked its magic, relaxing the tension in their muscles and drawing them into a lazy, sensual rhythm. Red picked up a soft sea sponge from a small wooden tray resting across the tub. He leaned forward, gesturing for Melody to move closer.
She slid through the water until she was sitting between his legs, her back resting against his chest. Red dipped the sponge into the soapy water and began to wash her shoulders.
The tactile intimacy of the moment was incredibly arousing.
The sponge was soft, but the hands guiding it were rough and callused.
The contrast of his strong, weathered fingers gliding over her smooth, slippery skin sent a cascade of shivers down her spine.
He washed her neck, her arms, and the slope of her back, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against her wet skin as he worked. Melody tilted her head back, leaning into his touch, letting out soft, contented sighs.
"You're taking such good care of me, Grandpappy," she murmured, turning her head to capture his lips in a slow, deep kiss. Their mouths joined hotly and their tongues worked in a familiar dance. She hummed against his lips as their kiss moved, shifted, grew hotter.
The romantic, tender washing slowly shifted too, the energy between them growing heavier and more sexual.
Red tossed the sponge aside. His hands slipped over her wet shoulders, down to her sudsy breasts.
He filled his hands. Shaped them with his rough old fingers.
Plucked at her glistening nipples and kissed her neck.
"Stand up, sugar," he commanded softly.
Melody obeyed, rising from the hot water. The sudden chill of the air-conditioned bathroom made her nipples pebble instantly.
"Lean over the edge," he instructed.
She looked at him over her shoulder as she gracefully bent forward at the waist. She gripped the wide, flat marble rim of the far side of the tub, leaning her upper body out over the floor.
Her heavy, full breasts dangled freely, dripping warm, soapy water in small puddles onto the pristine white floor tiles below.
She arched her back, sticking her wet, plump ass out toward the center of the tub.
Red shifted onto his knees in the water, remaining behind her. The visual was stunning. Her smooth, pale cheeks were perfectly framed by the frothy white bubbles, her pink center exposed and glistening.
Red didn't hesitate. He leaned forward and buried his face between her cheeks.
Melody gasped loudly, her fingers tightening their grip on the slippery marble edge.
Red’s tongue was a rough, relentless instrument.
He found her slick, swollen pussy, dragging his tongue upward from her entrance to the sensitive hood of her clitoris.
He devoured her, relishing the clean, wet taste of her mixed with the expensive bath gel.
He lapped at her hungrily, his hands coming up to grip her wet hips, holding her steady against his mouth.
He didn't stop there. He worked his way upward, his tongue swirling expertly around her tight, puckered asshole.
He rimmed her with deep, focused dedication, teasing the sensitive ring of soapy muscle until Melody was bucking lightly, her wet toes splaying against the floor of the tub.
"Oh god, Red," she moaned loudly, her voice echoing off the tiled walls. "Right there. Please."