Brad froze in surprised horror as Leslie vomited into his mouth. They had been drinking during dinner, a red wine which Brad hadn't been sure went well with the shrimp and wild rice casserole. But Leslie had seemed to enjoy it, knocking back almost two bottles while alternating between the casserole and the creamed peas almondine. He had been no slouch with the wine either. She had prowled through the cocktail party earlier, leaving half the board of directors passed out in the hotel room while she grabbed Brad and a vodka bottle to whisk off to a nearby restaurant. Stoked by several whiskey sours and the heady rush of being the target of a beautiful woman, he figured that she wouldn't be impressed with him unless he at least matched her glass for glass. As the evening wore on and their voices echoed louder through the restaurant, a warm flush slowly flowed through his body. She really seemed to like him, and Brad began to fuzzily wonder how easy it would be to keep in touch after the convention was over.
They staggered outside half an hour after closing, and the cold night air hit his brain with a wallop at the first breath. They swayed against each other for a moment, then Leslie looked up at him from under her furry cap, smiled and burped. Brad frowned in mock sternness, then remembered her dignified speech earlier that day before the committee and began to snort in laughter. She brought a hand up to her mouth as if in shock, then sputtered and laughed too, clutching at his coat for support.
Giggling and swaying, they found their way to the rental car and fell into the front seats. A wave of warmth rolled up from Brad's belly, and he suddenly wondered if Leslie should be driving. She had gripped the wheel tightly, the keychain dangling from one finger as she breathed deeply through clenched teeth.
"Hey, Les, you okay to drive?"
She turned her face to him, closed her mouth and grinned widely, then hiccupped and burped at the same time, a throaty gurgle that she seemed to bite on painfully. She swallowed, then licked her lips and batted her eyes prettily. Her fingers relaxed on the wheel.
"Maybe you should steer," she murmured as her hands snaked around Brad's neck. Their noses touched as he inhaled, smelling her perfume and her breath, a mixture of roses and seafood with a hint of bitters. He felt himself suddenly grow and harden, and his hands went under her coat to slide up the back of her silk blouse. Her nose felt cold, but then their lips pressed together and a heat surged through him. He pulled her tight and her mouth opened soft and wet, their tongues attacking each other with slick dartings and wrestlings. Leslie moaned and gripped the back of his neck, her leg drawing up to rub against his. That was when she gave a small hic and vomited down his throat.
Their heads snapped back and they stared at each other for a heartbeat, then, he couldn't help himself, he coughed and threw up back in her face. He slapped his hand to his mouth as he kept spewing, staring horrified into her wide eyes. She heaved, her eyes not leaving his, then convulsed, splattering his chest and lap with a reddish mixture of hot rice and peas. He tried to rise out of it, but only succeeded in mashing the goop thoroughly into his trouser seat. They both gagged, staring at each other's soaked bodies, the ripe smell filling their nostrils as it steamed at the windows.
Leslie shakily reached out her hand and tried to brush away some of the bits of rice and shrimp that hung on his chin. She said in a small trembling voice, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . ."
"That's okay," he said automatically in a thick voice. "I-I'm sorry. You're . . ." And he stopped because he didn't know what to say. He fumbled for the door latch, then felt her hands brushing at his shirt. He looked back at her, but her eyes were half-closed as she leaned towards him, her left hand now rubbing slowly at the wetness of his shirt as her breathing grew deeper. He suddenly thought that she might get sick again, then her fingers reached between the buttons to rub at the moistness on his chest. She looked up from under her lashes and whispered, "I'm all wet too." She reached out to bring Brad's hand up under her coat, pressing it firmly to her breast. "Feel how wet I am?" she asked throatily.
Brad gulped open-mouthed as he slowly squeezed at the warm softness, bits of rice and peas squishing between his fingers as he felt her nipple, hard against his palm. She closed her eyes and grunted as she slid her hand down to rub at his crotch, the juices squelching audibly over her fingers. Brad shakily brought his other hand up to her breasts, and Leslie moaned and pressed into his hands as she fumbled at his belt, then at his zipper. Brad gasped as she dove her hands inside his pants, pushing the still-warm mixture around his incredibly stiffening penis. She stroked him, mashing hot wine and creamed rice into his hair and over his balls. She breathed heavily, her breasts straining at the wet silk before his eyes, and a beast seemed to take him. He roughly tore her shirt open, pushing the brassiere straps off of her shoulders as his face buried itself in her slippery cleavage. She licked at his ear and squeezed him harder, and his mouth traced kisses down and across the swell of her breasts. Mindlessly he chewed and swallowed a bit of shrimp, then engulfed the erect, rigid nipple, licking and sucking as she increased her pounding in his lap.
Leslie gasped and bucked, then slowly pulled back. Brad licked at the moisture around his lips and looked at her face, swollen and shiny, with bits of rice and saliva hanging from her chin, one long silvery thread slowly lowering towards her spattered breasts. Then the corner of her mouth rose in a sly smile and she leaned towards his chest, running her cheek along its slick front, down his stomach to give a tentative lick at the swollen head of his penis. He gaped at the top of her head as her hand squeezed once more up its length, congealed bits of half-digested food oozing through her fingers. Her lips then opened, and Leslie slurpily sucked his erection deep inside her mouth.
Brad leaned his head back against the window as her head bobbed in his lap, his sticky fingers laced through her hair. His head felt numb as, wide-eyed, he looked around at the spattered dashboard and windows, steam still dancing on the glass as it rose from the chunky pools. The tension in his groin built swiftly in response to the incredible sensations being delivered there, but as it finally gripped and spurted out of him one thought stood alone, forcing its way to the surface even as he groaned in ecstasy:
Boy, is the rental agency gonna be pissed!
* * * * *