Eric mournfully meandered from one row of chairs to the next. “Gone!” He thought. “My work. My prototypes are gone. He slumped down into a chair at the end of a row and pulled out his phone. He needed to let his financial backer know that he wouldn’t be able to make it to the Venture Capital meeting that afternoon.

Sweat ran cold down his neck and back. There was no time to ask for replacements to be shipped to him. He needed to stop looking and notify the team right away. He held up his phone and unlocked it.

At his home screen Eric saw 10 notifications from his developer app. He decided to tap it and see what it was about. A generic map swirled into view. It had a pin where he was standing in the convention center and a cluster of red dots in the corner of the attached hotel.

"Whoever took my bag must have tried to turn on the prototypes!" he thought with relief. He was happy he hadn't actually called to cancel his three o'clock meeting. He leapt to his feet and dashed toward the bank of elevators.

He first checked the lobby and continental breakfast buffet which corresponded to the location of the red dots but it was empty. At the elevators he read the headings next to the buttons for the first few floors. Banquet halls, conference rooms, business center, boutique shops. None of them had his other bag.

At each floor above the mezzanine he raced down the hallway to the same corner of the hotel. Each time he approached the spot, he slowed his pace and listened intently. The seventh, eighth, and ninth floors were totally silent. There was an infant crying on the tenth and Eric reasoned that nobody with a baby would have the time to steal his bag.

Eleventh and twelfth floor both smelled antiseptically clean like not a single person had set foot off the elevator in ages. On the thirteenth floor a couple was arguing and came out of the room where the dots were located. Eric froze as they breezed past him. When they were a few strides away he chanced placing his foot between the door and the jam, preventing it from closing. He kept his eyes down and listened to the arguing couple as their voices grew more distant.

His heart was racing. "This is illegal!" he scolded himself. "If you get caught there's going to be a lot more to deal with than just losing the tech." But he pushed the door open and slid inside. A quick glance of the room alerted him to the reality that where the map said his items were did not match with what he saw.

He ran to the door, cracked it open, saw the coast was clear and slipped back out of the room. Instead of the elevators, he headed for the stairs. This made more sense to him anyway. Since he could slip up to the next floor and be right next to where the bag must be located.

The fourteenth through eighteenth floors proved to be fruitless. When he slowly arrived on the nineteenth floor he was gasping for breath. His calves ached. His wrist was sore from the thin plastic straps of his other bag. "Why did I grab so much crap on the first day?" he wondered.

Eric set down his load and rubbed out the creases in his skin. Above him he heard the moans of two different voices. His eyes grew wide. Eric yanked up his bag and ran up the stairs taking them two at a time. On the 20th floor the door was locked. There was a sign that read, "Luxury Suites. No admittance."

Exhausted and defeated, he slumped down on the landing. His legs splayed out down the steps as he leaned forward and cupped his face in his hands.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Tangpoko raised her head and gasped for air. A strand of saliva stretched from her lower lip to the stiff, gleaming cock. As she smiled, the strand broke, fell, and draped over her fingers. With this hand she grasped firmly and began to slowly stroke its length. With her other hand she wiped off her mouth.

She paused to slowly unbutton her blouse. She enjoyed watching his hard dick spasm intermittently against his belly. The taste of him turned her on and her nipples began to ache. She gently cupped her breasts with her hands and lightly circled her stiffening peaks.

"Fuck, I want you inside me." she purred. She stood up, placing one foot on either side of his chest. She pulled down her panties and tossed them onto his chest. Tangpoko grabbed his dick and spread her lips. She squatted down onto his erection and inhaled sharply. When she had slid all the way down and felt her vulva meet his groin, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She picked up his right hand by the wrist and raised it to her left breast and returned both hands to his cock and her pussy. As she began to slowly rock back and forth he kneaded her tits. Her bucking against his hips quickened. Tangpoko raised up and slammed down onto his full length as she bit her bottom lip. Then she lurched backwards, opened her mouth and began to scream.

Her shrieking sounds grew distant and more faint. When they stopped, Eric was startled awake. He had a full erection and a growing wet stain from all the cum seeping through his boxers into his dress slacks. "What a weirdly vivid and erotic dream." he thought. Then he heard a heavy thud on the other side of the wall from where he had passed out in the stairway.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***

He staggered to his feet and fell against the wall. His head was throbbing. His mouth was dry. "I must be really dehydrated." Thought Eric. He decided to head back down a floor to look for a drink of water. As he bent over to pick up his bag, he began to see stars so he sat back down.

After collecting himself, he got up slowly this time.   He decided to temporarily abandon his bad of valuables in the stairwell. He took each step carefully, walking down onto them with both feet, one at a time. When he finally emerged back on the 19th floor, he scanned the hallway and spotted a sign that read, “Ice Machine”. Eric thought, “We’ll, ice is frozen water.”

The ice felt cool and refreshing in his mouth. He sat down in a chair in the lounge area by the elevator and ran his fingers through his hair. His headache slowly began to subside. "How am I going to get into that hotel room?" he thought. No method or plan seemed to get him safe, legal access. After resting for a while and "drinking" his ice cubes, he started back toward the stairwell.

Eric trudged up the steps and once again reache down to retrieve his bag. Just then he heard the chime of the elevator call button. He raced down the steps leaving his belongings in the stairwell. As he approached the elevator he heard the woosh of the car as it rose to the floor above him. Eric smashed the down button hoping to catch whoever it was that was coming down.

The light glowed on and the chime sounded. The elevator doors opened. He worked out an excuse to ask to see inside the person's room so he could retrieve his things. When his eyes met hers, Eric was dumbfounded. His jaw dropped slightly and his heart began to race.

A smartly dressed woman wearing checkered, cat-eye sunglasses stood in the exact center of the car. Her legs were apart in a power stance and her hands were on her hips. Eric noticed that she didn't appear to be wearing a bra. Panting slightly he staggered through the doorway and bumped into the woman. She felt solid and unmoving. He couldn't quite place the reason why but she looked familiar. It might have been Delores's clothes.

While puzzling it out he glanced up at her neck, jaw, and lips. Then it came to him. "Was this Tangpoko?" he wondered. Could it be the woman who had visited his dreams earlier? He worked up his courage and began to ask, "Tang?"

"Poko!" she snapped back. "Call me Poko!"

"Wow. Just wow." was all Eric could think of to say.

After a brief sigh PocketPoko held out a hand and moved to put more distance between the two of them. "Please, don't talk to me sir. I've had quite the day."

"Oh. Of course. Sure. Sorry." he said. As the car continued down through the floors, a panic began to rise up inside him. "I wasn't going to ask for an autograph or anything. I guess I'm a little starstruck. And more than a bit distracted."

PocketPoko said nothing.

"I'm distracted because I lost some very important things and I think I've traced them to the room you came from. I was in the stairwell and heard you leaving. I was happy to have run into you but I wasn't expecting it to be YOU you. You know?" He felt like he was babbling. He figured he had nothing to loose in pouring his troubles out to her in this moment.

"Tell you what champ," replied Poko, "A colleague of mine is still in the room." She turned to face him. "I bet if you go back to the stairway..." She stepped closer to him. Eric caught a whiff of a heady, earthy scent that made his nostrils flare. "...and knock on the door..."  she gently grasped his wrist and raised his hand. "...I bet that my friend..." Now she drew his hand to her left breast. "...would be happy..." Eric left his hand there and felt the warmth of her body through the smooth fabric. "...to help you out."

The door chimed, PocketPoko spun around and walked swiftly out through the lobby.

He watched her until the doors closed, leaving him alone in the car. He looked down at his hand. He rubbed his thumb against his fingers, mesmerized by how warm they still felt.

He extended his index finger and raised it to eye level and inspected it closely. “She must have had a fever.” He thought, trying to reason why there was so much residual body heat remaining on his fingertips.

He pushed the button for the 19th floor and pondered his next move. “I’ll just knock and mention Tang, erm, Ms. Poko, sent me.” It seemed simple enough.

At the top of the stairs he checked his bag once more. Then he rapped on the metal door with three swift knocks. Eric cleared his throat and prepared to meet Poko’s friend.

He watched her until the doors closed, leaving him alone in the car. He looked down at his hand. He rubbed his thumb against his fingers, mesmerized by how warm they still felt.

He extended his index finger and raised it to eye level and inspected it closely. “She must have had a fever.” He thought, trying to reason why there was so much residual body heat remaining on his fingertips.

He pushed the button for the 19th floor and pondered his next move. “I’ll just knock and mention Tang, erm, Ms. Poko, sent me.” It seemed simple enough.

At the top of the stairs he checked his bag once more. Then he rapped on the metal door with three swift knocks. Eric cleared his throat and prepared to meet Poko’s friend.

Steam wafted up, around her minutes-old form as she stepped out of the shriveled husk. It crumpled and crackled under her feet. Eric began to sway between the doorway and the stairwell. His eyes were swollen shut and his arms were slack at his sides. Mistress exhaled a long, slow breath towards his flaring nostrils. Eric inhaled sharply, turning his head left and right. He leaned forward, both arms extended forward sweeping the air, searching for her. The bag of electronics tumbled to the floor.

His breathing got faster and shallower until he coughed. A few brief barks and suddenly a barrage of coughs, chokes, and gasps. He sank to his knees with both of his hands clutching his throat. He fell face first into the puddle of fluid remnants of the hatchling’s cocoon.

Mistress Tang crouched down on all fours over her first meal. Her mouth became wet with preternatural juices which she eagerly issued onto her victim’s flesh. She smeared it around his jaw and neck with her mouth and tongue. The soft hiss of dissolution entered her ears and caused even more digestive fluid to flow. She ripped open his shirt and continued the ritual consumption along his torso. Scampering back to the liquified head, Mistress Tang lapped up and drank down her first meal.

Fifty eight miles away, PocketPoko leaned into the front seat of her befuddled Lyft driver's Toyota Camry and grabbed his phone from him. She tapped and swiped through the driver’s app and handed the phone back. She stepped out of the backseat and onto the sidewalk a few feet from the entrance to the clubhouse. She had given him a tip three times the amount of the fare charged to drive her to Creek Pine Country Club. The driver looked forward and prepared to drive away from the curb but reversed into a metal stanchion instead.

Golfers momentarily stopped pulling off their gloves and untying their shoes and saw the Camry’s tires squeal for half a second. It lurched free of the post and revealed a sizable pucker in the rear bumper.

Poko walked swiftly into the pro-shop and scanned the clothing racks for something suitable for the afternoon's adventures. She walked her fingers over the hooks of each hanger, flicking them aside, rejecting each piece one by one. She settled on a black lamé bikini swimsuit with a golden cord tied at the waist and matching straps on the top.

"Do you have a changing room where I can try this on?" she asked the clerk at the counter who was staring out the window. "No, sorry." he said, waiving his hand behind him to his left. "You can use the women's locker..." and he turned to see PocketPoko removing her clothes right there in front of him. She placed her top on the counter in front of him.

"Be a good boy, uh," she removed her sunglasses and scanned his name tag, "Lawson. Watch my things for me until I get back." She unzipped and slid off her slacks, letting them fall to the floor. Poko kicked her right foot and sent the pants flying across the room where they landed on Lawson's left shoulder. She placed her arms into the straps and fit the suit top on. As she removed the bottoms from the hanger, she walked over to the back of the counter and turned around.

"Little help please." she commanded as she lifted her hair up with both hands, inviting Lawson to take the straps. He reached out and took both ends in his hands. His gaze lingered at the side of her breast and imagined how freely they were bouncing and swaying moments before. He began to move his hands forward, exposing more of Poko's skin when suddenly, "ON! I want you to help me put this on!" She smiled and looked at him over her shoulder. "Maybe later you can help me take it off."

He placed one strand over the other and pulled the ends taught. "Yes. In a bow." PocketPoko ordered. "Tie a knot and it'll just be that much harder to undo later." She bent at the waist with her thumbs hooked into the waist of her panties. As she lowered them down her thighs and past her knees she leaned back into Lawson's body and lingered there. She kicked them free and lifted them up with her right hand.

Lawson stared at the sheer, lace panties swaying back and forth, suspended from her index finger. He quickly reached out but slowly, gingerly, removed them from their perch. He brought them up to his face and inhaled deeply.

Poko bent back over, steadying herself against Lawson's crotch, and put on the bikini bottoms, one leg after the other. "Thanks. You're such a dear. I'll be back in a few minutes." she said as she walked out the side door towards the swimming pool.

She replaced her sunglasses and scanned the deck and pool. There was no sign of children. Only a man and two women were in the pool swimming intently back and forth. A single lifeguard was up in his chair. He leaned to one side attempting to stay under the shade of a blue and white umbrella. He looked up every couple of seconds at the geriatric swimmers and then down at his smartphone. He ran his finger in spurts and jerks across the surface.

She walked past the attendant's desk and grabbed a couple of towels. Poko's eyes narrowed. "What is he doing on that phone?" she wondered. "How can I get in there?" She walked to a lounge chair directly opposite the young man high up in his chair. She lay down a towel on her chair and kept the second towel rolled up, placing it at the top to act as a pillow. She lay down with her arms raised over her head and her legs stretched to the edge of the chair. One bent and the other straight.

"Okay," she said softly under her breath, "come and get me."

"Beep, beep, beep! Beep, beep, beep!" The lifeguard tapped the alarm icon and silenced his phone and placed it securely in his backpack, slung over the back of his chair. "Okay, time for a mandatory pool break!" he raised his whistle off his bronzed chest and blew two quick whistles. He was prepared to blow again when all three swimmers stopped their strokes and began to get out of the pool.

As they climbed the ladders and shook their heads to rid their ears of stray droplets of salinated water, he scanned the pool for any other swimmers. "Where did you come from?" he wondered to himself. He studied the length of her arms, the crease of her cleavage, and the plunge of her stomach as it tucked under the tent of the shiny fabric of her suit bottoms. He noted the glistening beads of moisture gathering on wisps of the soft down on her thighs.

He retrieved his phone from his pack and swiped back to his drawing app. He closed the portrait of the struggling octogenarian swimmers and opened a new file. He tapped out the title, "Bathing beauty" and began to sketch out the rough gesture of her form.Back in the pro shop, Lawson carefully folded the slacks and blouse he had recently been given charge of. He lifted them into a large, handled, paper bag and bent down to find a place under the counter to store it. On the floor beyond his work station he noticed a pair of women’s shoes. “These must belong to the naked, hot lady,” he thought. He added them to the bag and neatly tucked it all away in an empty drawer to the left of the register.

As he stood up, Lawson slipped his right hand into his pants pocket and fondled his silky treasure. He slowly swirled the sticky, damp fluid between his two fingers and thumb. He drew his hand out of pocket, raised it up to his face and inhaled the aroma deeply. It was sharper and earthier than he had imagined what it might smell like. The head of his stiffening cock strained and grew toward the moist spot in his pocket.

He put his hand back in and grasped the saturated satin. He slid it along his erection through the pocket fabric. He looked quickly to his left and right, worried that a club member might walk in at any moment. His uncle had called in a favor to get him this summer job. As he thought about losing his job for jerking off at the sales counter, his heart raced faster. Sweat began to build up on his upper lip. He felt a surge of pleasure in his balls and down his length. He abruptly stopped stroking himself. “If I cum in my pants, it’s all over,” he reasoned. “I don’t have anything to change into.”

He opened the top drawer of the sales counter, pulled out a “Back In 5 Minutes” sign, and hung it over the price readout at the register. As he breezed out of the shop, he grabbed a guest towel from the entrance of the women’s locker room and casually covered his crotch on his way to the guest restroom.

He deftly shut and locked the door and then gleefully withdrew the panties. Lawson smothered  his entire nose and mouth as he breathed in deeply and quickly. He unzipped his pants and shoved them down to his knees. Then he grasped his cock and pulled it out from his briefs. He wrapped the panties around and firmly grasped himself. The cool, smooth fabric glided over his supple, rigid skin. The wetness acted as a lubricant which encouraged Lawson to rub faster. He began breathing faster and deeper. He steadied himself with one hand against the wall.

He replayed in his mind the fantastic scene that had transpired moments ago. He was transfixed by the slight rise of her nipples as she lifted her blouse over her head. Sheer delight when her breasts flowed down and outward, free from their fabric confines. Lawson slowed his hand, allowing the satin to slide more loosely. His palm rubbed his bare skin. The slick smears, slowly evaporated and sent tingles of ecstasy up his backside.

Ejaculate quickened in his groin and Lawson began to rapidly approach the edge. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The memory of her soft mound, popping out from between her firm thighs and cheeks flooded his senses. “Such a soft, wet, little pussy” he said, barely above a whisper. At the moment he recalled the sensation of her lips parting against his hardness, he returned the panties to his throbbing cock. The moment the fabric made contact with his skin, he came hard. Thick ropes of warm, sticky giz pooled on top of the wadded up panties in both of his cupped hands.

Loud and persistent knocking streamed into his ears. “Jeezus! I’m calling maintenance. What the hell do you think you’re doing young man?!” How long had he been in there? A glance at his watch answered - twelve minutes!

Lawson wiped up remnants of his cum with the thin, black underwear which was now dripping wet. As he squeezed out the last drops from his tip, he was a bit surprised to note that instead of getting softer and more pliant, his erection was still rigid. He curiously tested the firmness by squeezing and stroking himself harder. A fresh trickle of pleasure arose from deep within his solar plexus. Every muscle from his feet to his face spasmed as cum shot into his trembling, open hands. He could barely see the black fabric from all of the pearly white cum puddled before his eyes.

He heard the lock on the door unlatch. He pivoted to see the knob turn and the door open a crack. “We’re coming in! Please cover yourself!”  His pants were down at his ankles, cum was dripping through his fingers, he was still rock hard, and he could sense another ejaculation was rising fast.

Lawson wedged his foot under the door and pushed it shut. He hurriedly tried to fold over his erection with one hand and pull up his pants with the other. All of his fumbling with his sticky, slick hands only aroused him more. Every point of contact was a load stone of sensation. He groaned as he clenched his pelvic muscles in vain trying to stop the inevitable torrent. His hips began to involuntarily thrust and he lost control of his lower body. His foot and leg relaxed and flexed, giving up control of the unlocked door. It swung open wide as Lawson collapsed back against the opposite wall. He looked up and saw the horrified faces of the dining room hostess and the custodian briefly before unloading a rapid barrage of spurts on them.

“That suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” said the gravelly voice coming from the square,shadowy figure looming over PocketPoko. After rolling her eyes and turning away from the delectable lifeguard, she replied, “Well, what are you imagining?”

“Ely. Leave that girl alone.” said one of the lap swimmers. She was wrapping herself up in a towel and fishing out her Crocs from under her deck chair with her feet. She slowly shook her head from side to side. “Please excuse the old fart dear. He’s mostly harmless. Always chatting up the ladies.”

“DeMarcus! Why haven’t you called? I know you’re on break!” read the message notification on his phone. He swiped it away and continued to rough out the form of his subject. He zoomed in and paid close attention to the gap between her thighs. He stared closely at her briefly flexed adductor muscle and studiously swept his finger over the glass of his screen. As the digital line flashed into view, he looked up and back between his subject and drawing a couple of times. “Perfect likeness,” he praised himself.

When he looked back again and added the folds and puckers of fabric encasing her vulva, his finger ran across a canvas that had melded into something peculiarly vivid. The smooth, cold, glass melted away. In its place he felt warm, sun-kissed skin under his fingertip. DeMarcus held the phone at arms length and looked over at the woman. She had on dark sunglasses but he thought he could see her looking directly at him.

PocketPoko inhaled sharply and rocked her hips forward slightly. “Thank you ma’am. But, I’m not afraid of,” here she punctuated her retort with breathy pauses. “Little. Old. Ely.” Poko raised a hand to her sunglasses and squinted over the frames directly at Ely’s crotch. Then she pouted her lips. She brought her other hand up to her mouth and flicked her index finger with her tongue.

Ely clutched himself and squeezed his penis, stemming off the stream of piss that had begun to trickle out. His eyes grew wide as he crossed his legs and limped into the men’s locker room.

Poko used both hands with fingers fanned out to grasp the sides of her sunglasses and placed them theatrically back on her face right after shooting a look directly at DeMarcus. She returned her arms languidly over her head and exhaled slowly into a faint whistle. She rolled her shoulders side to side giving her breasts a slight heave and jiggle. The corners of her mouth turned up as she sensed Demarcus’s finger tracing their outline.

He pinched and zoomed in on her left nipple and deftly captured its arc in one gesture. Goose pimples raised across her chest and she stiffened. DeMarcus swiped the line clean and drew it again, harder, more pronounced. He circled it. Flicked it. In the distance he heard a faint gasp.

“Ooh.”

A shiver ran down her spine to her core. She squeezed her legs together while crossing them. He was tracing the outline of her hips, thighs, and claves. By the time he worked on her heels and feet, PocketPoko was bearing down on her pelvic floor. The sensations she felt from DeMarcus’s careful study grew increasingly intense. Her flexion and releasing helped a bit.

He traced a line for her neck, down to her belly, and over the rises and falls of the gentle folds in her groin. She rolled and swiveled her hips like a wobbling bowl. DeMarcus tried to lift his finger from the space around her moistening mound but felt an edge barring its exit. He glanced up and noticed the slow writhing the woman in the shiny black bikini was doing. His eyes on this seductive dance he slid his finger to the edge of the “bowl” and saw her hips roll and influence his finger back to the center. Looking down at his drawing a strange tilt in his mind had him looking directly at the woman. He saw his overly large finger grow smaller as it traced the sacral crest of her left hip bone.

He moved his finger across the spaghetti strap of her bottoms and he felt the cord roll and snap back in response to his touch. PocketPoko flinched and raised her left hand. DeMarcus dashed off a quick gesture of her hand, placing it in a placid pose, resting on the curve of her hip. He noticed the woman’s hand lower down to the exact posture and proportion he had created. Poko stared down at her immobilized limb. Her eyes opened wide as she realized what was happening.

DeMarcus drew the line defining her forearm, elbow and bicep. He knelt beside her now and caressed her light brown skin while at the same time he sat across the pool atop his chair sketching on his phone. He focused on the arc of her shoulder flowing into her neckline while he existed in a superposition over the woman. PocketPoko’s eyes shot from one position to the other of DeMarcus while she formulated an escape.

“Hey. DeMarcus is it?”

As she spoke his name, he turned his attention to her cupid bow lips. He smiled slightly but kept his eyes moving from subject to canvas.

“Why don’t you put down your phone…” She offered, trying to distract him. But he was too intent on finishing this portrait. He drew a line that sealed her mouth closed with a tiny slip of a shadow suggesting a parting of her upper lip from her lower.

“...and use that finger to…” her voice slowed. A slide of his hand defined her jawline. All she could move now were her eyes. She blinked both in rapid succession. She looked from the man sitting beside her to the one farther away. Both figures flattened into one image. Into one being. DeMarcus drew the last lashes on both eyes and then zoomed out. He sat back in his chair, held his phone at arm’s length and admired his handiwork.

When he finally looked up from his drawing, he noticed that the woman was gone.