Business Or Pleasure

He usually didn't notice people like her.

Well, not entirely true; he noticed everyone and everything around him at all times. This was a different kind of noticing.

She was off in a world of her own in the early morning gym. Her routine caught his eye first. A mixture of Thai-Chi and some more complex Aikido forms.

With the power in those hips, I'm not surprised, he thought.

Her expression next caught his interest. A quietness, deeply concentrated but relaxed. She moved fluidly, gracefully, matching whatever music was flowing through the earbuds she was wearing.

He stood for a while, enjoying the movement of long, lean muscles beneath smooth skin. A light coating of sweat was the only indication of the effort required. A grey leotard covered everything and hid nothing.

Nice curves, everywhere there should be curves.

Her eyes caught his, becoming aware for the first time she was being observed. She faltered slightly as her right leg swooped around at high speed and lost her balance.

He was beside her and caught her before she could fall. In his arms she felt as good as he'd thought she might. Soft in all the right places, firm where she should be.

She braced an arm around his neck and righted herself. He let go of her waist and stepped back.

"Thank you," she said, her voice a soft contralto, slightly breathless.

"I usually have this place to myself and—"

"I'm sorry I startled you," he interrupted. "No damage done I hope."

He thought later, briefly, that this moment was exactly when the damage was done. By then it was too late.

"No, no damage. Thanks to you."

She raised her head and looked at him. Her eyes were light brown, wide-spaced and open. Her face, devoid of makeup and slightly flushed from her exercise, gave her age as mid-to-late-twenties. The slight up-turn of her nose and the softness of her mouth hinted at youthful energy and fun.

He smiled and her returning smile was almost innocent in its spontaneity.

"I'm called Shell," she said, holding out her hand to him.

For a moment an impulse to kiss it flashed through his mind, but he suppressed it and took her hand in his. It was soft, small within his larger, harder hand. But her grip was firm and went with the athletic trim of the rest of her body.

"I'm Lance," he said.

"A knight," she said, "in love with a Lady he could not have."

He bowed to his Lady.

Her laugh was genuine and delighted. They agreed their exercise routine was finished for the day. She invited him to join her for breakfast. He accepted.

A quick shower later, a suggestion from her where to eat, and they settled themselves, enjoying eggs, toast, and one another's company, in a quiet diner not far from the gym.

She had been in town for just over three years, had trained as a dancer. He nodded, remembering her poise and grace in the gym.

"Some martial arts too I suspect?" he asked.

She nodded; her mouth full of toast at that moment.

"But not dancing professionally?"

She shook her head, her face serious for an instant. He moved on past what was, it seemed, a difficult point. He described the traveling he did for his work, how it took him from place to place. Her face grew wistful as he drew word pictures of the places he'd visited.

He smiled.

"It's not really as good or glamorous as it sounds. I usually see the inside of a hotel, or worse motel, and the place where I work. Nothing more."

"Still," she said, "faraway places. One day, perhaps."

They continued chatting long after their breakfast was finished. She was easy to be with, though he considered that not surprising.

What was surprising was the ease with which he had relaxed with her. He was seldom, if ever, off guard. When there came a pause in their conversation, he noticed Shell looking speculatively at him.

"After my workout, I usually spend a little time in the hot tub where I'm staying. It's probably better than your hotel—" she grinned "—or worse, motel. Care to join me?"

He looked at her. She met his gaze, directly, honestly. He could have said "No" he supposed. He didn't.

The apartment complex was not far, and they went directly to the residence hot tub. He stripped quickly and was sitting in the tub letting the hot water relax the remaining kinks in his muscles before Shell was ready.

At the edge of the tub, she let the robe she wore slip to the ground and stood looking at him. A smile played around her mouth as she noticed his appreciation.

He looked. She was worthy of appreciation. Nude though she was, there was a hint of shyness in her stance. He watched as she stepped into the tub. She stretched in response to the heat of the water. Again, he noticed the ease with which she moved.

A dancer, as she said, he thought.

She caught his eye and, again, her infectious smile played about her lips. He returned the smile. They remained for a while in easy silence, enjoying the heat and the pounding of the water jets.

They chatted a little more. She talked of the small town where she'd grown up. She had studied, college, back East. Then some dance. He let her talk, let her carry the conversation. He said little about himself. After a while, she became quiet.

This is the awkward point, he thought to himself. What's the next move to make? What's the next thing to say?

Shell moved across the hot tub to him. He took note of her softness as she pressed against him. She lifted her face and kissed him gently. Unbidden, his arms encircled her, pulling her close. The kiss deepened and he became conscious that the heat around his groin was not simply due to the temperature of the water.

She broke the kiss, moved her mouth to his ear and whispered, "two twenty-seven." He relaxed his grip on her. She moved to the edge of the tub and pulled herself out. Walking to the other side, she picked up the robe she had let fall and wrapped herself in it.

Then she walked, an easy relaxed gait, deeper into the apartment complex.

He remained for a short while in the tub, savoring the taste of her on his lips, remembering the ease with which she'd lifted herself out and the sway of her hips as she walked. He considered, for a moment, that maybe the memory was sufficient. Now was perhaps the time to return to his motel.

He laughed at the thought, lifted himself out of the tub, wrapped the towel she had left him around his waist and made his way through the complex to 227.

She opened the door at his knock, and he entered.

"I wondered if you would come," she said.

He looked at her, letting his gaze slide down over her nude body before returning to her eyes and grinned.

"I don't believe that for a moment."

He kicked the door closed with his foot and took her into his arms. She fit perfectly, and she enthusiastically returned his kiss. She led him to the bed in the small studio apartment and he let the towel drop to the floor.

This time it was she who grinned as she pulled him down on top of her and into her.

It was urgent, not tender, almost painful in its intensity. After, they lay there, both spent, the sweat drying on their bodies in the morning air. She snuggled into the crook of his arm, her leg resting across his groin, her breasts pressing against his side.

"That was more energetic than my workout this morning."

He laughed at her comment.

"It was certainly more fun than mine. And good for the lower back too!"

She pressed her thigh down hard against him.

"Ouch!"

He looked at her. She smiled in return. He turned his head, taking in most of the small apartment with a single glance. The kitchenette to the side, the cheap couch in front of a TV-DVD combo, the row of expensive gowns visible in the open closet.

Beside the closet there was a closed door.

"Bathroom?"

She nodded her head. He turned, kissed her lightly and slipped out of the bed.

"Excuse me a moment."

The bathroom, like the apartment, was small. Standing, he relieved himself in the toilet in one corner. A shower occupied the other corner, the curtain drawn back. Nylons, panties and other sundries hung from the rail. Oils, creams, lotions covered the top of the vanity.

Finished, he rinsed his hands and carefully opened the medicine cabinet. Birth control pills, sleeping pills, a variety of prescription pain medications and low-dosage anti-depressants. He closed the cabinet again. He turned and lowered the toilet seat.

Looking around, he checked that everything was as he found it.

He left the bathroom and padded back to the bed. Her frank appreciation of him had a definite effect below his waist. She was sitting up in bed, the sheet resting in her lap. She pulled the sheet back and his breath caught. She smiled and moved to make room for him.

They lay together and spoke more of their backgrounds, she more than he. She confessed to having been a painfully shy teenager, too tall, even too beautiful to fit in. So, she took to dance.

He asked what, if not dancing, was she doing.

"I'm in entertainment," she answered. "You?"

"Retirement."

She sighed quietly and said that she wished she could retire.

"No. Not the kind of retirement I arrange," he responded.

She looked at him quizzically, but he lay on his back and looked at the ceiling. She fingered a small knot in his flesh on the right side of his chest, near the nipple.

"An old war wound," he said, "nothing special."

She traced her finger around the nipple and moved her thigh, so it lay across his groin. She smiled as she felt both areas respond.

He moved, turned, so that they faced one another, he on his right side, she on her left. She brought her mouth to his and pressed her length against him. He drew in his breath and felt himself swell against her stomach. They kissed, hands moving over the other's body, touching, grasping, pressing. A little time later she slipped her thigh under him, clamped his side with her other leg and twisted her body.

She rose smoothly above him and looked down as he lay on his back beneath her. He looked at her and laughed.

"I knew it, those hips," he said. "Lethal."

She grinned down at him and rocked back and forth against him. His breathing quickened and he reached for her. She dodged his hands, slid forward slightly on his body and then pressed herself back and down. He groaned loudly as he felt himself encased in liquid heat.

This time it was gentle and tender. He matched her pace with his, concentrating on her reactions, holding back his own.

Their bodies moved smoothly together, —and he could feel her building to release. Her climax was long and hard, and he felt her shudder the entire length of her body. When she slowed a little, he pulled her close and rolled her over on her back.

She looked up at him, her face soft and relaxed. The small apartment soon filled with whispered gasps, urgent pleas to touch, to be touched. Her high keening sound was matched by his deep rumble as he exhaled.

They lay together quietly, enjoying the warmth, the closeness of the other. He could feel her heartbeat beneath his hand. One of her hands stroked him, describing lazy circles in the small of his back.

After a while she moved beneath him, sliding first one leg and then the other out from under him. She smiled at him again.

"I need to make a quick trip to the bathroom."

He kissed her nose and moved so she could leave the bed. He watched as she walked, again that easy, sensual gait, to the bathroom. He lay back, staring at the ceiling as he waited for her return.

He turned his head as he heard the toilet flush. She came out of the bathroom and walked back to the bed. She moved comfortably, at ease with her body, with her nudity. She may have been shy once, he reflected, but not now. She held a cloth in her hand and brought it to his groin when she reached the bed. It was wet, warm and he sighed as she cleaned him.

"A messy business," he said.

"Life is messy," she replied.

Her cleaning of him done, she slipped into the bed beside him. Her body lay soft against his, and pulled the covers over them. She sighed against him, her breath blowing across his chest hairs. He held her until he felt her fall asleep and only then did he close his eyes.

They woke some hours later. He, as a cat does, fully awake in an instant. She, more slowly, though she stretched as luxuriously as any cat might. He leaned over and kissed her. She pressed herself to him. He smiled ruefully.

"I have to get back to my motel," he said.

"I know," she answered quietly. "I was just hoping to delay you a little more."

He kissed her again and slid out of the bed. He pulled the bedclothes up around her, taking a moment to caress the soft skin of her shoulder. She purred, again as a cat might.

He saw her watching him as he dressed, quickly, efficiently, no movement wasted. He moved to her, and they kissed again.

"Will I see you again?" she asked.

"Perhaps later," he lied, and they both knew it.

"I'll be working later tonight," she said.

"So will I."

He moved to the door and his last sight of her in her apartment was as she snuggled deeply under the bedclothes. Turning away he left the apartment and went quickly to where they had left his car.

His motel room was stark, barren, uninviting. He spun the combination on his briefcase and studied the information on his assignment. An older man, patrician gray at the temples, the face of someone used to getting what he wanted. Rich, powerful, as many of his assignments were. There'd be security. There always was.

He studied the hotel layout he'd been provided, memorizing entrances, exits, floors, backup routes, the penthouse where his assignment was staying.

He spent some time stripping and cleaning his weapon. He reassembled it, slipped in a full clip of hollow point cartridges, chambered one and attached a silencer.

He then sat in the upright chair beside the bed, still, silent, focused on the task ahead of him later that night.

Two hours before his assignment he rose from the chair, stripped, showered and dressed. His formal suit would blend easily with the wealthy clientele of the hotel he was to visit.

He arrived with thirty minutes to spare. He parked his car himself. No valet need remember him. As he walked, he drew himself inward and moved smoothly through the hotel lobby, through the gaming rooms, past the groups of people energetically going about the business of a night's entertainment. No one noticed him.

There was a bar at the end of one of the more exclusive gaming rooms. Here the carpet was thicker, the room noise more subdued. The men's clothing more conservative. The women's more expensive and revealing. His assignment was certain to be here.

He moved towards the bar, easily avoiding the attention of the bartender and the scantily clad waitresses.

She noticed him.

She looked around from the small group of which she was a part, straight at him. He saw the range of emotions that flickered across her face for an instant. He recognized the designer gown she was wearing as one of the ones he had seen earlier that day.

Her hand rested on the thigh of one of the members of her group. She turned and leaned forward, giving her companion a generous glimpse of cleavage. Her companion leaned toward her, and she whispered in his ear.

She smiled and they rose. She caught his eye once again as they left the room.

He stood there, his face a blank mask. Her companion, to whose room she was certainly headed at that very moment, was his assignment. And he never left witnesses.

He stood there even after they'd gone before he shook himself, frowning at his moment of distraction. He glanced around the room. Nothing out of place. He followed them. There were two elevators to the top floor of the hotel. The penthouse. He saw one was already arriving there. The other was waiting.

He stepped into it. She was there. He caught a glimpse of her silenced pistol before it coughed quietly, twice.

She caught him easily as he fell and pulled him fully into the elevator. He saw her press the button for the lowest level of the parking garage.

The last thing he heard was her voice.

"Entertainment is just a sideline.," she said. "My real job is protection."

BIO: Kevin J Mackey is native Irish, lived in the far drier climate of the San Francisco Bay Area for almost twenty years, and now lives in Kansas City, MO. He reads widely —"whatever may be found between book covers"—but has a particular fondness for science fiction and poetry. He has had stories published at short-story.me, Canyon Voices (literary magazine out of ASU), "Voices from the Writers Place" - first audiobook out of The Writers Place in KCMO, and in the "Elements of Horror" anthology.

He has had short stories and poetry published in 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, and 2014, 2020, and 2025.

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