Naughty Marietta

Cole raised a hand, cupped the side of her throat. “I’m glad you made an exception for me.”

“Yes, well, I…I can’t stay long,” she said. “My…my husband is expecting me home by ten.”

“I see,” mused Cole, letting his hand slip down to the buttons of her bodice. “Then we’d better waste no more time.”

He dropped his towel to the carpeted floor and swiftly unbuttoned her jacket. He pushed the opened jacket apart, slipped his long fingers inside her lace trimmed camisole, and eased the slick satin garment down to release a full, creamy breast. She drew a quick breath as if surprised, but made no move to cover herself. And she exhaled heavily when Cole licked his forefinger and circled her stiffening nipple with his wet fingertip.

The brunette’s soft hands fluttered along his slim hips before seeking his already straining masculinity. Cole took his cue from her. Without so much as a kiss, he shoved her full skirts up and, with her help, deftly relieved her of her underwear. Looking into her flashing eyes, he swept a warm hand across her flat stomach, then slipped his fingers between her legs. She swooned and tilted her pelvis upward, eagerly pressing against his exploring hand. Cole was amazed. She was as hot, wet and ready as if he had spent an hour arousing her. He took his hand away, pushed her skirts higher up, around her waist.

“Want to tell me your name, darlin’,” he asked and cupped the twin cheeks of her bottom, pressing his body against hers, letting her feel his firm erection throb against her bare belly.

“No,” she quickly responded. “And I don’t want to know yours. Just put it in. Hurry.”

Cole didn’t hesitate. The brunette winced, then sighed with pleasure when he lifted her a little and guided his hard flesh up inside her. She clung tightly to his neck, lifted her stockinged legs and wrapped them around him.

They stayed right where they were, making hot, impersonal love. Cole pumped and thrust and slammed her rhythmically against the heavy door. The brunette bucked and lunged and egged him on, digging her sharp nails into his shoulders. Two total strangers, out of control, mating like lusty animals. Kissing and licking and biting. Grunting and panting and growling.

But only for a few short moments.

Soon the brunette began experiencing a deep, wrenching climax. Cole joined her in the release.

She cried out in her ecstasy and viciously bit Cole’s bare shoulder.

But the second her climax had passed, she lowered her weak legs, took her arms from around his neck and pushed Cole back. She anxiously reached for her pantalets, turning away to put her underwear on before dropping and smoothing her skirts. She whirled around to face Cole as she pushed her exposed breast back inside her camisole and buttoned her bodice.

“I must go,” she said.

“Thanks for visiting,” he replied.

“My pleasure,” she said with an impish smile, clearly giving his statement a double meaning. He laughed and so did she. She lifted slender shoulders in a shrug and said, “Now I really must go.”

But before she left, she reached out and cupped his now-flaccid flesh. She licked her lips, sighed and said, “I wish I could take this with me and have it whenever I want it.”

Grinning easily, he teased, “Don’t you have one like it at home?”

“Hardly!” The smile left her face and a clouded expression came into her dark eyes. “Not like this. Nothing like this.”

She reluctantly released him, turned, opened the door and rushed away without saying goodbye.

For a moment Cole stood naked in the open doorway, shaking his head. Then he shrugged, closed the door and yawned. It wasn’t the first such encounter he’d had with a stranger and it probably wouldn’t be his last.

He’d lose no sleep over her or any of the others. Women, so long as they were easy on the eye, were all pretty much the same to Cole Heflin. They all behaved alike. Hard to tell one from another.

He smiled.

God, it was good to be alive.

Cole crossed the silent room, blew out the lamp and fell sleepily into bed.

Late the next afternoon the narrow-gauge train chugged its way higher and higher through the winding and steep-sided Clear Creek Canyon. The newly built railway ended at the mining and smelting town of Blackhawk, more than eight thousand feet up in the mountains.

Cole stepped off the train at Blackhawk and, swinging his suitcases, walked the mile up the steep hill to Central City. The high altitude and thin mountain air made him feel short of breath and slightly light-headed. He stopped outside the Gilpin Hotel and considered checking in. He leaned against the building, took a minute to catch his breath, then moved on.

As he strolled unhurriedly up Eureka Street, he noticed the posters advertising Verdi’s opera, La Traviata, and it’s young star, Marietta Stone.

Cole paused before one of the posters, studied the likeness of Marietta. He exhaled heavily. Here she was, the toast of Central City, a content, fulfilled young woman. And he had come to take her away from it all. He hated to do it, but he had no choice. He’d promised Maxwell Lacey he would bring the woman to Galveston and he would, whether she wanted to go or not.

The summer sun had completely slipped below the Front Range. In the gathering twilight, Cole walked up the street to the newly opened Teller House Hotel. The four-story hotel’s wide entrance opened onto a floor of solid-silver bars. He checked into a top-floor room with furnishings of exquisite walnut and damask and a fine Brussels carpet.

Cole looked around, shrugged out of his suit jacket and stretched out on the soft bed. He folded his hands beneath his head and gazed up at the crystal chandelier at the room’s center.

How should he go about getting the pretty opera star out of Central City and back to Galveston? He had the sinking feeling that it was not going to be easy.

He wouldn’t worry about it. He’d take it one step at a time.

First on the agenda was tonight’s performance of La Traviata at the Tivoli Opera House.

Four

Full darkness had fallen and there was a definite chill in the mountain air when Cole, dressed in dark evening attire, left the Teller House Hotel that evening.

Eureka Street was crowded. Laughing people spilled out of restaurants and saloons. Others milled about leisurely, stopping before glass-fronted shops. Many, like him, were headed to the Tivoli Opera House for the debut performance of La Traviata.

In minutes Cole reached the imposing opera house, which was built out of stone, brick and iron. The main entrance was wide; swinging doors afforded passage into a spacious corridor.

On the ground floor, at the back of the roomy foyer, was a large gambling club. Cole instinctively moved closer, pausing just outside the crowded, smoked-filled casino. He was sorely tempted. It had been ages since he’d sat in on a good poker game.

He thought about the ten thousand dollars in the Gulf Shores State Bank. Ten thousand that belonged to him. His to do with as he pleased. His expense money—a thick roll of bills—was suddenly burning a hole in his pocket. With effort, he resisted the strong lure.

He turned away and moved with the growing crowd up a flight of stairs to the theater. The grand stairway divided two spacious sections of the theater. The ornate and elaborate audience room was large, and the dress circle, where Cole was to sit, was reached by a second set of stairs. The circle extended, horseshoe shaped, around the room.

Opera chairs with adjustable seats were of ornate cast and upholstered in scarlet plush. Cole found his and sat down in the comfortable chair. White-and-gold hand-turned balusters formed balustrades around the horseshoe circle. The railing was covered with scarlet plush.

Cole looked around with interest. On the right side of the stage, high up on the wall, was a large private box, mirrored and upholstered in scarlet like the dress circle. Lambrequins and lace curtains gave the private box a degree of privacy. The box was presently empty.

Cole’s attention returned to the main floor of the grand theater. The wide aisles were beautifully carpeted in red, the walls were painted in brilliant colors, the ceilings handsomely frescoed. Everything was red, gold and white, and revealed by brightly burning gas jets.

Just below the scarlet-curtained stage, a fifteen-piece orchestra was seated in a circular box. They played an overture as the auditorium began to fill with patrons.

Cole had patronized few opera houses, but he felt certain this one was as grand a theater as could be found anywhere in America. Cole lifted and studied his program.

La Traviata

by Giuseppe Verdi

Characters

Violetta Valéry, a courtesan…………………Soprano