Roland DeForrest - The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey

The tingling in his balls hurled him quickly to the brink. He eased off the pace, wanting first to bring her ultimate satisfaction. He quickly realized he need not have been concerned, for she was screaming with release and he could feel great gushes of her liquids drowning his happy bird. Again he picked up speed, hurrying to his own destination, pleased with himself for achieving his two primary goals: first, to capture her magical essence on film, and second, to fuck the hell out of her.

He was just ready to explode with a magnificent orgasm when an all-too-familiar voice, disturbingly near, cried out, “Dirk, you bastard!”

He flung his head up toward the harsh-toned voice and caught sight of the flushed face of his beautiful sister bending over them. In delighted shock, his bird detonated inside Toni and he hollered in delicious agony, “Aghhh, Honey…” As he squirted his last feeble drops into Toni, he watched his sister spin on her heel and stride toward the living area. Her anger was as apparent as her gleaming, deep red hair.

It took several excruciating moments for him to extricate himself from Toni’s embarrassed embrace, explaining rapidly as he did that the unexpected intruder was merely his older sister. It was evident that Toni did not believe him. With cold, mechanical movements she gathered her far-flung clothes and marched into the bathroom. Relieved to hear the shower running, he hastily pulled on his Cardin robe of dark blue cashmere and padded toward the gorgeous figure sitting at the far end of the deep-cushioned, suede pillow-couch. In the otherwise dim area, a halo of light from the recessed fixtures overhead encircled her with brightness.

Honey did not look up as he approached, but continued inhaling on the slim, hand-rolled joint. He could smell the sweet, thick aroma of sinsemilla.

“Thanks for coming so quickly,” he said awkwardly, not knowing where to begin.

She snorted as if amused, and swung her gaze to him. “I could say the same to you, brother. Some emergency. I bust my buns to get here as fast as I can-fearing the worst, expecting to be met by tragedy and gloom. And what do I find? The pink ass of my horny little brother, frantically waving hello at me. I don’t know whether to be relieved or enraged.”

“It is an emergency, I swear,” he said, and sank down beside her. “I wouldn’t have wired you if it wasn’t serious, you know that.”

She exhaled a tired lungful of smoke, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized his face. “Well, it certainly can’t be too catastrophic if you still have the inclination to get your rocks off.”

He hung his head, guilty as charged. “I was trying to keep my mind off it. It’s the best way I know how…”

A bubble of laughter welled out of her, husky and warm, yet with a biting edge. “Dirky, why the hell the secret code? ‘Snatch’? That’s only for life-or-death emergencies, you know that.”

“It is life or death-at least I think it is. She begged me, pleaded, more with her eyes than her voice. She didn’t have time to say anything but, ‘Help me, please… help me.’”

“The beauty in your bathroom?”

“No. The girl in the park.”

She passed him the joint. “You’re talking to a reporter, not a psychic. Take a good hit and start at the beginning… as slowly as possible.”

He sucked in the sweet smoke, held it, and began speaking through clenched teeth as deliberately as he could. “Last Sunday I was in Central Park with my Nikon and the 850 telephoto lens. And this incredibly sweet-faced, super-sensational blonde-no more than sixteen, seventeen-captured and held my eye. She was everything I’m always looking for.”

Honey nodded wryly. “I should have known it was a beautiful lady. So what happened?

He exhaled in a rush, feeling a sudden lightheadedness. “I didn’t even get to talk to her. Just as she got out the words ‘help me,’ two thugs who looked like leftovers from a Sicilian gang war grabbed me, started roughing me up. Tried to take away my camera. I fought like hell. Managed to get away, camera intact. Come here… I’ll show you.”

He led Honey past the large white walls, adorned with huge blowups of some of his favorite models, and toward the fully equipped darkroom at the very rear of the former warehouse space that occupied an entire floor of the building. Inside the cluttered, narrow room he located the eight-by-ten blowups he had made of the blonde, and handed them over ceremoniously. Honey studied them, nodding slowly. “Yes, I see… enchanting. Charming. Very.”

“I’ve never seen such a face,” he said with conviction as he stared at the Botticelli-like angel.

“So what happened then?”

“I ran off, hid, and followed them. The two thugs clamped onto her and walked her really fast into the Pierre Hotel. But when I asked the desk clerk about her, he got very nervous, uptight. Told me there was no one of that description registered and ordered me to leave at once, before he called the security guard.”

Even in the dimness, he could see the spark of interest light up her eyes. “And?” she asked.

“That’s it. Except that I watched the hotel day and night, practically-until this morning. But I never saw her again.”

“That’s it? A beautiful blonde in the park says ‘help me,’ and you yank me all the way from California?”

“I can’t get her out of my mind, Honey. She’s in deep trouble. I just know it.”

“Why?” she asked coolly. “The lady of the bath’s a gem too, from all I could see. What’s another pretty face to you?”

He struggled to find words for his feelings. “That one in the park was everything. I feel obsessed with finding her. Her life’s in danger and I’m the only one who knows. That’s exactly how I feel. That girl is depending on me, I could see it in her eyes. She is counting on me to help her. I can’t ignore that, I just can’t.” From the antique brass clothes tree he grabbed some clothes and began tugging them on. He didn’t know where he was going, he only knew the magical girl was out there someplace and it was up to him to find her.

“Dirk?”

Honey came to him, a vision of creamy skin, full curves, and burnished hair, a wistful smile gracing her lips. She stopped before him, locking eyes with his and putting her arms around his neck, pulling him close. She held him tightly and his heart raced. His chest burned from the imprint of her breasts. “Of course I’ll help you,” she murmured. “Just hold me for a moment… give your only family a little warm welcome, okay? Then we’ll find your mysterious blonde of the park… I promise.”

Within the hour, Honey had checked into the Presidential Suite of the Hotel Pierre. As she tipped the bellman extravagantly for bringing up her bags, she showed him one of Dirk’s photos of the lovely young blonde and received a vague, noncommittal reply that he thought he recognized her, but he couldn’t be sure. Unconvinced that he was telling the truth, she thanked him, turning on her considerable charms. “By the way, who’s the manager here?”

“Evan Bell,” the young man replied, easing toward the door. “But he’s not on duty until morning. Our assistant manager, Merit Harper, will be happy to be of service until then.”

After thanking him, Honey waited until he had departed before calling the front desk and asking that the assistant manager be sent up in exactly a half hour. Hurriedly she unpacked and changed into an apricot-toned peignoir, discreet but enticing in its simple elegance. Brushing the full waves of her hair, she realized that she and Dirk had damned little to go on; if she couldn’t get a lead here at the Pierre, she had no idea how she would be able to continue. As much as she wanted to help her dear brother, she would be at a dead end. And that disturbed her greatly. She could not recall ever seeing Dirk so completely obsessed by anything or anyone in his life. His passionate, desperate desire to help the mysterious blonde had touched something deep inside Honey, and she felt compelled to offer assistance in any way she could. But she had to have something to go on, and at the moment she only had the photo of the girl. Not much, she assessed ruefully. Not much at all.