The Dolomite Solution by Trevor Scott Page A

hell of a lot more fresh than he guessed he did. What was she doing there? He changed course and walked up to her.
    â€œSorry I couldn’t make it back before you left?” Jake said, trying to avert his eyes from her breasts and failing pitifully.
    â€œNo problem.” She ran her eyes up and down him. “Last night was fun. We’ll have to do it again.”
    That would be nice, but he didn’t even have her name, nor any inclination to ask for it now.
    She shifted her eyes toward the bar. “I have to get going. I’ve got your number. I’ll give you a call.”
    She walked into the bar, and Jake watched every precious move she made. A part of him felt like he had just been blown off like a man would have done to a woman following a one-night stand. Another part believed she would actually call. He walked out to his car and drove off.
    â—
    The blonde woman waited inside the bar for a moment until she was sure Jake was gone, and then strutted back out to the lobby and directly to the elevator. She went to the seventh floor and got off, glanced up and down the corridor, and headed to room 710. She knocked her knuckles on the door three times and waited.
    In a few seconds the door swung open and Marcus Quinn stood bare-chested, in a pair of tight black briefs.
    â€œYou’re late,” he said, closing the door behind her.
    She strutted across the room and sat on the bed, crossing her long legs. “I needed my beauty rest,” she said. She retrieved a joint from her purse and lit it, taking a deep hit off it and holding until her chest was about to explode. Finally she let it out in a long release. “You want some?”
    Quinn moved closer, taking a seat on a chair backwards. “You know I don’t touch that shit.”
    She laughed out loud. “That’s right. You have to keep that body of yours pure.” She raised her brows and whistled another hit off the joint.
    In a minute she had finished smoking and put out the last bit in an ashtray. She walked up to Quinn, undid her front a few more buttons, released her frontload bra, and exposed her breasts. She cradled her hand under them and brought the nipples hard between her fingers. Picking up his hand from the back of the chair, she placed it on her breast and rubbed it around like she was doing herself with the other one.
    He pulled his hand back. “Not yet,” he said, diverting his eyes from her. He got up and went to his coat hanging on a wall rack.
    She lay back on the bed on her elbows, her breasts pointing up into the air. “Most men would be hard as a rock by now. What’s the matter, Marcus?”
    He returned and took a seat, holding a small envelope in one hand. “First of all, tell me about Jake Adams.” He gave her a disturbing smirk.
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œWas he any good?”
    She was starting to get a little uncomfortable. She shrugged. “He was all right. We were both a bit wasted.”
    â€œJust all right?” he yelled. “The great Jake Adams was just all right?”
    â€œWhat do you want from me?”
    â€œYou already know that, my dear. Now tell me the truth about Adams.”
    Sitting up, her nipples becoming flaccid, she released a large breath. “He was great in bed. Is that what you wanted?”
    â€œIf it’s the truth.”
    She nodded that it was.
    â€œWas he bigger than your husband?”
    â€œJesus Christ, what do you want photographs?” When he just sat there with that stupid grin of his, she added, “Okay, he was hung like a fucking horse. I don’t understand you. You tell me to go with him, and then you question me like I’ve been unfaithful to you, which is a huge joke as we both know. Do you know he was just downstairs in the lobby?”
    He rose from his chair swiftly. “What? What was he doing down there?”
    â€œI haven’t a clue. He said hi, we talked briefly about getting