Dick and Jane Do Washington

by

Michael Sirois

On their first night in Washington D.C., Dick and Jane were in their hotel room on the seventh floor of the JW Marriott hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue.  From their window they could see the Washington Monument, jutting, like a giant phallus, straight into the Cold February air from the rear of the Department of Commerce Building.  Pointing to the tall, thick, immensely sturdy structure, and doing his best Barry White impersonation, Dick asked Jane “Does that remind you of anything, Baby?”

“Only the top of your head, sweetie,” Jane replied.

Dick rumbled “Say what?” then shifted to his normal higher register, “Say what?”

Jane leaned forward and whispered delicately in Dick’s ear, “It’s bald and pointy”.

Not one to be deterred by Jane’s witticisms and not wishing to venture out into the cold, rainy weather for dinner, Dick suggested an evening alone with room service and wine (so they could be fresh for their sightseeing the next day, of course).  Jane readily agreed, provided she could choose the items for their repast.  She perused the menu quickly and phoned in her choices.

While they waited for the food to arrive, Dick went into the bathroom, and returned in one of the hotel’s bathrobes, snickering quietly.  Then he occupied himself by watching Jane change out of her traveling clothes into a tiny tube top, some skin tight toreador pants, and shoes.  Before Jane finished slipping on her Cherry Red four-inch stiletto-heeled pumps, Dick was more than willing to bypass all the culinary pleasures that would soon await them in favor of a riotous romp in the boudoir, but Jane wouldn’t hear of it.  In truth, it would have been impossible anyway.  As nice as the room was, they had no boudoir, just a small alcove, with a mirror and dressing table, quite unsuitable for earthly delights.

Spurred on by Jane’s promise of an excellent gratuity, the hotel staff proved they were up to the task, and the meal arrived within thirty minutes, piping hot.

“Hello,” the room service attendant said.  My name is Morgan, and I’ve brought you an amazing meal this evening.”  His ears glowed bright pink, apparently from the haste in which the meal was rushed to their room.

Jane insisted they take their time and work their way firmly and steadily through the immensely hard task of finishing the entire meal before they moved on to other pursuits.  It was huge, enormous, enough for three to share.  When she saw the size of it, Jane offered to let the waiter join them, and he was mightily tempted, not having had any food since noon.  Soon his mouth was watering and he was breathing heavily in anticipation of sampling the delicacies spread before them, but his cell phone rang at that moment, and he left them to their feast, insisting that his wife wanted him to come home -- right now.

So, left to their own devices, Dick and Jane decided to go it alone.  The bottle of Alvaro Pecorari Pinot Grigio was chilled and waiting, so they decided to begin with it.  Dick tried in vain to force the bottle to release its precious treasure, but even with his massive manly man hands, he found it too difficult to massage the cork loose, and finally gave up.  Diminutive Jane sat on the edge of the bed, and grasped the bottle firmly between her thighs.  She started by gently warming the very tip of the bottle by curving the palm of her hand around the neck and pushing and rubbing it in a subtle, soft spiral motion.  Once she felt it was sufficiently warmed, she used both her thumbs to work the stiff unyielding cork gently back and forth and back and forth until, finally, it burst violently free. 

Forgetting that it wasn’t champagne under pressure, and not wishing to lose a single drop of the precious liquid, Jane took the protruding tip of the bottle quickly into her mouth, preparing to catch every single drop.  Surprised, but not disappointed, at the lack of fluids spewing from the stiff tube she held in her mouth, she tipped the bottle gently upward and let a miniscule portion moisten the inner walls of her lips, then she transferred the taste of the wine directly to Dick’s lips with a slow lingering kiss.

“Does that meet with your approval, sir?” she asked him.

“I can assure you it does, madam”, he answered as soon as he stopped panting.  “What’s next?”

“The wine was very cold, dear,” she said, as she slipped out of her oh-so-chilly toreador pants and stretched her lovely frame across the hotel bed.  “How am I ever going to warm up my thighs?”

Looking around, Dick was at a loss.  But what man isn’t when faced with the quandary of operating his brain and his Magical Machine of Machismic Masculinity at the same time?  Then he spotted the clouds of steam rising from underneath the silver serving canopy which covered their meal and got an idea. 

“How about an appetizer?” he said, his thoughts running rapidly from one end of his one-track mind to the other.  “You did pay for the meal, didn’t you?”, he asked her.

“Yes, I did,” she said, “or the waiter would still be here with us.”

“Then”, he said, grinning the grin of those who are about to commit the most horrible of puns, “if you paid for it, the meal’s on you.”  And with that, he scooped up a handful of the appetizer, which was Grilled Portobello Mushrooms with sautéed asparagus, shallots, pistachios and goat cheese, and making sure it was quite warm, but not overly hot, slowly but very, very thoroughly smeared it across the inner part of Jane’s shapely upper thighs.

“Ooh, big boy,” Jane purred.  “That feels amazing.  I’m all warm and toasty now – but I’m gooey.  What can we possibly do about that?”

Standing up, Dick opened the top of his bathrobe, revealing his manly chest (and both of his chest hairs), then flipped the robe open all the way so Jane could see he was wearing her favorite pleated skirt, because he knew she got off on that.

Then with no further thought, because thought (as previously mentioned) played no part in this scenario for Dick, he began to nibble at Jane’s legs extremely proficiently, missing not a single scrap of appetizer as he worked his way from Jane’s lovely knees all the way to her Marvelous Mound of Monumental Munificence.  Moments after reaching this destination, Jane began to feel the need to give Dick some direction, which she did quite brilliantly with the most miniscule of vocabularies.  The only words she uttered for the next five minutes were “yes” “no” “there” “oh” and “Dick”. 

Soon, they had worked themselves into a massive hunger, so they pulled the serving tray onto the bed with them and devoured the main course, which consisted of Pan Fried Blue Points Oysters and Shrimp Flamenco, dipped lovingly in mignonette sauce, accompanied by Maine Lobster stuffed Ravioli with a garlicky Spinach Alfredo sauce, and a Saffron Caesar Salad.  Occasional bits of the meal managed to work their way off the tray during the eating process, of course, but Dick and Jane, both of them being fastidious individuals made sure every speck of food was used creatively. 

Completely sated, they were certain they were capable of nothing else, until they realized they had one more dish to uncover.  Dessert was Black Forest Cheesecake with White Chocolate and Strawberries, and if I told you what they did with that you wouldn’t believe me, so I’ll just leave it to your imagination.