She seemed to know exactly how she wanted the show to proceed.
“Well, I don’t know,” said Kelly, fumbling at his shoelaces so badly that he had to look down to see what he was doing. Dammit! “I’ve got reservations. …”
The lie was an unintended pun, and in any case his body had no reservations at all. His erection was so obvious when he stood again that it brought a really cheerful giggle from the dancer’s lips. “That’s right,” she said again.
Kelly stepped closer to Gisela as he tried to unbutton his shirt. It, like the coat, was torn in back and probably bloodied as well. Since his fingers didn’t goddam work at the moment, and he needed some sort of release under the circumstances, Kelly gripped his shirttails and ripped it open.
Buttons rather than fabric gave, popping and pattering around the laughing dancer like the leading edge of a sleet storm. The cuffs still held him, and he hooked his fingers in the left one as he bent closer to Gisela. “How the hell long do you think we’ve got?” he whispered. “Later!” He jerked his hand downward and, after the sleeve button popped off, the whole cuff tore away in his hand.
“How long did you think it was going to take?” Gisela murmured back. There was nothing wrong with her fine motor control as she unbuckled Kelly’s belt. Kelly’s trousers dropped around his ankles abruptly, pulled by the hidden snubbie, leaving him bare though he scarcely noticed it.
Gisela’s whole body was taut as a guitar string, and like a string it vibrated as he met her lips. He was thinking with his dick, which was about as good a way to get killed as he knew of; and right now, nothing he knew mattered except the way that his left hand cupped her bare breast and lightly pinched the already-erect nipple. She began to lift her dress with one hand while the other gripped Kelly’s member firmly to the soft fabric still covering her groin.
“I was. going to fuck you tonight, not so?” she whispered in German as she laid her cheek against Kelly’s, eyes closed. She tongued the lobe of his ear. “Why should I not because you save my life and make me want you?”
Who the hell expects anything to make sense, thought Kelly. His free hand fondled her buttock, bare now that she had raised the hem of her dress high enough. There could be somebody in the room after all, waiting for the right moment to deck him from behind, or a team in the hallway poised to smash through the door as soon as Gisela shouted the code word. She could have a dozen diseases, ranging from loathsome to incurable. God knew who’d dipped his wick in her over the years –
And none of it fucking mattered, because just now fucking was the only thing that mattered.
Gisela wore a slip, but no hose or underwear, which helped explain the speed with which she had changed from her costume to street dress in the Hilton. Her hip muscles were ripplingly powerful, but the layer of subcutaneous fat common to all women, whatever their level of exercise, was like plush beneath Kelly’s palm.
Gisela’s pubic hair was darker than that of her head or the fine down covering her body, but like the mane of a lion its bronze highlights made it more than simply brown. Kelly’s shirt still dangled from the agent’s right wrist; now he stepped on the tail and pulled off everything except the cuff itself.
The dancer rose onto her toes to increase her height advantage and, gripping Kelly’s member firmly, rubbed the head of it against the lips of her sex. She was dry and tightly closed, her body in this event rebelling against her will. She was murmuring something, but Kelly could not tell whether actual words were intended.
He bent to the nipple of the breast he held awkwardly from the dress, aware that the pair of them must look ridiculous. He was more concerned at some level of his mind about that than he was over the fact that he had just killed a number of people and that he might die himself before the night was out. He chuckled mentally at himself and, though he did not lose his erection, fully regained intellectual control over what he was doing.