The phone call came Sunday afternoon as I was watching a golf tournament on tv and dozing off in my leather recliner.
“Can you drive me to Los Angeles in the morning,” said my eighty-seven-year-old father. “Scott is in the hospital,” he continued, referring to his younger brother.
My Uncle Scott is ten years younger than my dad, but he has had more than his share of health issues. Unfortunately, my father’s side of the family has a long history of heart issues.
I asked a few questions and we agreed that I’d pick him up at 7:00 am and we’d drive the six hours to LA so we could see Scott. I told him I’d book a hotel room near the hospital. Long story short, my uncle needed to have his pacemaker and defibrillator replaced, but it was complicated by an infection. A surgeon at the famed Cedars Sinai Hospital would be doing the operation once the antibiotics cleared up the infection.
A quick Google search showed that the hospital is located in the Hollywood and Beverly Hills area of LA. Translation, all of the hotels were very nice and very expensive. I ended up booking an IHG hotel between the 405 freeway and the hospital, the Kimpton Palomar near Westwood on Wilshire Boulevard for $299 for the night. Considering the location, and the photos online, I thought it was a fair price.
**
After a long day of driving and four hours at the hospital seeing Scott, and his friend Connie, we finally arrived at our hotel. Dad was exhausted and simply wanted to get a stiff drink, have dinner, and go to bed. After washing up a bit in our room we headed downstairs to the restaurant and bar.
After pushing our way through a group of well-dressed male co-workers hogging the bar area, we found seats at the far end next to a middle-aged man who was dressed casually in chinos and a polo shirt, like what Dad and I were wearing. We were, by far, the most casually dressed in the bar.
“Double Jack Daniels with a splash of water,” Dad said when the bartender asked what he wanted.
I looked up from my phone to give my order and my eyes were met with the sight of a beautiful red-headed woman. Not what I was expecting. “Woodford Old Fashion, please,” I said.
Dad and I enjoyed our drinks and then moved to the restaurant section where we had a good meal after a long day. I looked at my watch and it was just after 7:30 pm and I wanted another cocktail, so I told Dad I’d be up within an hour or so after another drink or two.
As I walked back into the bar, I was happy to see the group of guys had left and I figured I’d go sit at the far end again. As I approached the bar, I noticed a woman with long blonde hair sitting in the middle of the bar. Not knowing what she looked like, or how old she was, I took a seat two stools down, with one seat between us.
Cindy, the bartender, approached and asked, “Another Woodford Old Fashion?” I replied yes, and slowly turned my head to finally peek at the blonde to my right.
She was a few years younger than me I guessed, about fifty-five, and attractive. Not model beautiful, but a nice-looking middle-aged woman who had on business-appropriate makeup and a dark above-the-knee skirt with a bright white dress shirt.
As our eyes met, I causally said, “Hello,” with a bit of a nod. She said hello as well. I flipped through my phone and watched baseball on the television. I did take note that she did not wear a wedding ring.
“One more Zinfandel, please,” I heard the blonde say to Cindy.
Her sentence broke my trance, and I looked in her direction. Without even thinking I said, “Good choice. What appellation is it from?”
“Oh, appellation, huh. Someone knows a bit about wine,” she said coyly.
“I sure do,” I said confidently. “I grow winegrapes.”
This excited the woman. “Do you own a winery too?” she asked.
“It’s in the process. My sons are in charge of that project,” I said.
“Hi, I’m Trisha,” she said extending her hand. “Tell me about your winery.”
I softly grabbed her hand and told her my name was Scott. Yes, I was named after my uncle. And, yes, it can be confusing at times.
I quickly gave her a Readers Digest version of our wine grape operation and how my two sons and their wives were the catalysts for expanding our business and adding a winery. “My Dad and I are just the grape growers and the money behind the project,” I joked.
Over the next forty minutes, I learned that Trisha was an admitted oenophile, a person who is really into wine. I was happy to also learn she had been to Oak Valley several times for various wine events.
During our conversation, I had moved stools and was now sitting right next to her. We were having a great conversation and shared a lot of interests and activities, and sadly we had both lost our spouses to cancer in the last three to five years.
As she finished telling me about her husband’s passing three years ago I simply grabbed her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “Thank you for sharing,” I said.
She looked deep into my eyes, smiled, and whispered, “Would you like to come to my room?” I then felt her foot tracing up my calf.
“I sure would,” I said in a low tone.
“Give me five or ten minutes. Room 1016,” she whispered.
She took her glass of wine and headed for her room. When Cindy appeared from the back she asked, “Did Trisha leave? She didn’t pay me.”
I laughed. “Put her drinks on my tab. I’ll check out now.”
**
I knocked on the door and soon it slowly opened. “Come in, Scott,” I heard Trisha say. As I stepped in, I felt her presence behind the door. Once inside, she closed the door. “What do you think?” she asked.
“Damn. You look stunning,” I said.
There was Trisha dressed in a sexy black lacey bra and panty set, complete with thigh-high stockings and black high heels. As mentioned, she had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and sexy curves on her five-six frame. I’d guess she had 36D or 36DD breasts and was a size six or eight.
She smiled and said, “Kiss me.”
I backed her up against the mini hallway wall and passionately kissed her for several minutes before running rapid-fire kisses down her neck. This caused her to giggle.
“Let’s move to your bed,” I told her.
Trisha lay down on the bed as I quickly got naked, taking off my clothes. As we resumed kissing, I quickly unhooked her bra in the back, releasing the girls. She had a fabulous set of tits for a woman her age. While I did not see any scars, I’m sure she had a lift at some point.
As I massaged her melons she moaned into my mouth as we kissed. When I pinched a nipple, she jumped. “Oohhh, I like that,” she said.
My hand traveled south to her kitty and found a small thin landing strip of short blonde pubes underneath her black thong. I quickly pull down her thong and tossed it on the floor with her bra. I massaged her mound before dipping one finger into her moist canyon. As she spread her legs to give me full access, I noted her pinkness and large meat curtain labia. My fingers gently played with her labia before I pulled slightly.
“Be gentle,” she whispered.
I positioned myself between her legs and slowly started kissing the inside of her thighs. As I reached her treasure box I licked and sucked on her labia before probing my tongue into her hole. I then zeroed in on her clit, softly licking, lightly kissing, and finally gently sucking on her pleasure nub.
