Croydon Curves
"DJ Kofi's manager Stacey has always kept things professional. But when they're stuck overnight in a Croydon hotel after a cancelled gig, the thick Bajan beauty decides business can wait."
The phone call came at midnight. Venue flooded. Gig cancelled. Sorry, bruv.
Kofi stared at his phone in disbelief. They'd driven two hours from Birmingham for this show, and now he was stuck in a Croydon Travelodge with his manager and no way home until morning.
"Trains aren't running," Stacey announced, returning from the front desk. "Got us a room for the night. One room, though. They're fully booked."
"One room?"
"Twin beds." She gave him a look. "Don't get any ideas."
But Kofi had been having ideas about Stacey for three years. The Bajan beauty had curves for days—thick thighs, wide hips, and a backside that made her business suits look sinful. She was all professional, all the time, but he'd caught her looking. He wasn't imagining it.
The room was small. Two single beds, barely two feet apart. Stacey kicked off her heels and sighed.
"What a waste of a night. You'd have killed that set too."
"Yeah." Kofi sat on his bed, watching her stretch. Her blouse pulled tight across her chest. "Could have been the big break."
"We'll reschedule." She started unbuttoning her blouse, and Kofi quickly looked away. "Relax, Kofi. I've got a vest on underneath. We're both adults here."
She stripped down to a white vest and her skirt, which she replaced with loose shorts from her overnight bag. Even in casual clothes, she was breathtaking.
They ordered pizza and watched bad TV, but the tension in the room was palpable. Every time Stacey shifted, Kofi was aware of it. Every time she laughed, he felt it in his chest.
"Can I ask you something?" she said finally, muting the TV.
"Shoot."
"Why'd you never try anything with me? Three years. Some of my artists would have made a move by now."
Kofi hesitated. "You're my manager. I respect you too much."
"Mmm." She turned to face him, those dark eyes searching. "What if I don't want to be respected tonight?"
"Stacey..."
"Three years, Kofi. You think I don't notice how you look at me? You think I don't lie awake sometimes wondering what it would be like?"
She stood up and walked to his bed, standing between his legs. This close, he could see the pulse in her throat.
"We're not in Birmingham. No one knows us here. Tonight doesn't have to count."
Her hands went to the hem of her vest. "Tell me to stop if you want. But I don't think you want me to stop."
The vest came off. Her breasts were full and perfect in a plain black bra. Kofi's hands moved on their own, gripping her thick waist.
"I definitely don't want you to stop."
She pushed him back on the bed and straddled him, her thick thighs gripping his sides. When she kissed him, it was three years of tension exploding at once.
"Been wanting this," she breathed between kisses. "Watching you perform. Getting all sweaty on stage. Wondering what you'd be like."
"And now?"
"Now?" She ground against him, feeling his hardness. "Now I'm going to find out."
She undid his jeans while he unhooked her bra. Her breasts spilled free, heavy and perfect. When he took one nipple in his mouth, she moaned loud enough that he worried about the neighboring rooms.
"Don't hold back," she said. "I want the neighbors to know exactly what's happening in here."
She rode him like she managed his career—with complete control and total authority. Her thick body bounced, her breasts swinging, her arse slapping against his thighs. She told him exactly what she wanted, and he gave it to her.
"Deeper. Harder. Yes, like that!"
When she came, she threw her head back and cried out, her whole body shaking. But she wasn't done. She pushed him down, turned around, and took him again in reverse, giving him a view of her magnificent backside.
"This is what you've been thinking about, isn't it?" she panted. "Watching me walk away at meetings?"
"God, yes."
"Then enjoy the view."
They broke both beds. Literally. The second one collapsed when he had her bent over it, gripping her hips as he thrust. They ended up on the floor, laughing, then continuing right there on the worn carpet.
Dawn found them tangled together in a nest of pillows and blankets, exhausted and satisfied.
"So what does this mean for our professional relationship?" Kofi asked.
Stacey smiled, running her fingers down his chest. "It means we're going to have much more interesting meetings from now on."
"And the whole 'tonight doesn't count' thing?"
She climbed on top of him. "I lied. I want tonight to count. And tomorrow night. And every night after."
The train back to Birmingham was going to be interesting. But first, they had a few more hours to kill. And Stacey had ideas about how to fill them.