A successful predator lays many traps. Very few will work but sometimes, when one does, it can catch a magnificent creature.
Her name was Noemi.
I'm from the UK but I was in the States selling security systems made by the company I own at a trade show in Long Beach. I was there for five days and was staying at a pretentious up-market hotel. Coming back to my room early, I caught the maid still cleaning.
I don't generally pay much attention to maids; they're usually older, frumpy women, but this maid was young, perhaps eighteen, fresh faced, slender and with the darkest skin I think I'd ever seen. In delightful contrast to this she had the sort of fine, high cheek-boned features I associated with Scandinavian women. Jet-black curly hair came down almost to her shoulders. It must have taken an intriguing mixture of races to produce such a beauty.
All in all, she was breathtaking. A name badge above one breast told me she was called Noemi.
I'm six foot and she was half a foot shorter so she was looking up at me as she gave me a big smile. In what sounded like a lilting Caribbean accent, she apologised and said she would come back later.
I said it was fine and I pretended to work at the desk in the room while she finished. Surreptitiously, I watched her in the mirror. The loose, shapeless tabard she wore made it difficult to judge her breasts but, when she bent over to dust, it was clear she had a pert, rounded bottom and what I have heard described as snake hips. Lissom and willowy. What could be better?
I'd been with black women before but none of them as beautiful as this. Could I catch her?
At least I could try, so I laid my trap but without much hope of success. Owning a security firm that makes and distributes all sorts of surveillance gadgets, one of the samples I travel with is a pinhead camera than can produce hi-res images sharp enough to cut your eye. One of these was embedded in the spine of a boring paperback novel.
I arranged the book so the lens was pointing at the gap between the bed and the nightstand, then I baited the trap. I crumpled up a fifty-dollar bill and dropped it into that gap.
The reasons this was unlikely to work were obvious. Noemi might not be careful enough in her cleaning to notice the money. Even if she found it, she might leave it there, put it on the nightstand or hand it in to her supervisor.
Trap baited, I went to the conference the next day and came back to the room about four. It had been cleaned so, after a shower, I checked the recording. I wound forward until Noemi entered. Even though her hips were so delightfully narrow, she moved with that wonderful loose-limbed Caribbean sway.
That was entertaining enough as she crossed back and forth across the field of view. Eventually she stopped in full view of the camera. She bent over the night stand with a duster then hesitated. The prey had seen the bait.
I held my breath. Would this beauty fall into my clutches?
After a moment's hesitation she bend down quickly, palmed the money then stood up, looking guiltily around to make sure nobody else was watching. Reassured, she continued dusting the nightstand.
It was all so amateurish. Noemi was clearly not a seasoned thief.
I couldn't believe my luck, but I shouldn't count my chickens yet. I waited two days in case she had turned the note in, but nobody from the hotel came to give it back.
Upmarket hotels take very dim views of thieving amongst their staff. Arrest and jail lay in her future.
I had her!
The next day I came back early, located her cart in the corridor and waited until she came out of the room she'd been cleaning. "Noemi," I called and she turned to give me that 100-watt Caribbean smile. "Can I have a word with you?"
Back in my room, I ran the video and, when she saw herself put the money in her pocket, her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hands.
"Did you give that money to your supervisor, as you're supposed to?"
She took her hands away. "I was going to," she said weakly.
I snorted.
She licked her lips, the horror of her situation taking form. "I will fetch the money and give it back."
I waved this away. "I have to report this. It's a serious offence."
She gave a cry of alarm and joined her hands as though praying. "Please, I will get in trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
"They will deport me back to Belize, but until then they will put me in jail."
I frowned. "Would deportation be so bad? Belize is a lovely place."
"But it is poor. My husband and I..."
"Husband? You seem very young to be married."
"Francisco and I were sweethearts at school. We married as soon as the law allowed."
"Is he here with you in the States?"
She shook her head. "His parents are old and sick and he has stayed to look after them. I came here to earn money so that we could build a house back home, and then one day perhaps we would have babies to fill that house."
I suspect she was hoping these personal details would soften my resolve. On someone like me it had the completely opposite effect. It only made me desire her more. "But you have a job here, you're earning money. Why risk stealing?"
She sighed, her body twisting to the side in embarrassment. "It was a stupid thing, a moment of weakness. I have never stolen before. I needed the money so I could get home quicker because I miss my husband so much. I am lovesick and cannot stay away much longer."
I rubbed my chin as though in thought. "You know, I have a soft spot for young lovers. I think we may be able to make this all go away."
"Please, how?" She looked so expectant, thinking what would come next would be good news.
"This will all be forgotten if you spend an hour with me this evening."
"Doing what?"
I turned to look at the bed.
She stepped back, her arms crossed defensively across her breasts. "No! NO! That is disgusting."
I shrugged. "Jail can be pretty disgusting as well. Disgusting and dangerous. Especially for a girl as beautiful as you."
"But you are old enough to be my grandfather. It is a disgraceful suggestion."
I may be in my fifties, but I'm still strong and fit- as I hoped she would find out. "Look on the bright side. You get to keep the fifty dollars."
She shook her head. "I am not a whore."
I took a step forward so she had to look up to meet my eyes. Speaking slowly, I told her "Tonight at 7 o'clock, for just one hour, you will be my whore. Then all of this will go away. Otherwise..."
There had been a lot tears. By the time she left I still had no idea if my plan would work. Of course, I didn't give a shit about the fifty bucks and I would never have turned her into the authorities. I'm not vindictive. I just enjoy fucking beautiful women. There's an extra thrill if they're reluctant or just plain unwilling. If this worked, it worked. Otherwise, I would simply move on.
That evening, the last before the end of the trade show, I was waiting in my room. When Noemi didn't come at 7 o'clock on the dot, I suspected she'd called my bluff. I got up to change and go out for a meal when I heard a timid knock on the door.
She came in like she was walking to her own execution, head bowed, hands together at her waist as though she was in a prayer meeting. She was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt and her feet were bare within her sandals.
Her voice was so quiet I could barely hear her. "Please, sir, don't make me do this."
I touched her shoulder and she literally jumped in fright. "One hour. That's all."
"I don't want to be unfaithful to my husband. He is a good man and I love him."
"He never needs to know."
She must have sensed how determined I was because her shoulders slumped in despair. "What do you want me to do?"
"Take off your t-shirt!"
She stifled a sob, but nevertheless reached down to grasp the bottom of the shirt then pulled it up over her head.
As expected, she had the lean body of an athlete. She was wearing a light purple bra which nicely complemented the blackness of her skin. Her breasts were so high that I could tell she didn't need a bra. It was for cover, not support.
"Now the bra."
"Please let me keep that on. Leave me some dignity!"
