Wingman

"No way!"

"Yes way. I'll take my hug now. I should tell you though that we hotties like blowjobs more than hugs. That can wait until the hotel though."

If Peggy had heard me, she ignored it. She was busy examining the photo closely, magnifying it to look at all sorts of details.

"Wow," she finally said, as she handed it back to me and looked me in the eyes with sympathy. "She's gorgeous."

Then, she turned completely to the side so she was facing me on the sofa, puller her legs up and crossed them into a lotus position, put her elbows on her knees, and her chin in her hands, looked me straight in the eyes, smiled, and said, "Tell me everything."

I did, going back to when Lori and I first met. Peggy occasionally asked a question but otherwise listened like a police interrogator. She made me back up and repeat the fact that Lori's credit card was paying for our hotel stay and my Eurail pass, plus my legal fees for the divorce. She got a good laugh out of that. I had to tell her the story twice about inviting all the homeless people to live in the house after I left because she was laughing so much. I finally ran out of things to say. Telling it all was cathartic.

We settled the bill and went out to look for somewhere to have dinner. We were no sooner outside the door though when Peggy was in my arms, hugging me like she was going to squeeze me to death, and telling me that everything would be alright. I hugged her back but more gently. Then, we went looking for a Chinese restaurant, arm in arm, singing Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London." Her ah-hoos were better than mine. She did them seriously; I did not. C'mon. It's not a serious song.

That night in the hotel, Joanna was back on duty. She smiled at us and waved her pinky. We did the same as we laughed our way to the elevators. With her clothes dried, Peggy climbed into bed wearing a long T-shirt and panties. I seriously wanted to shove her into a doggy-style position and start rutting away into what I hoped was a boiling hot snatch. But I had made a pinky promise.

When I got into bed, she asked me to hold her. I waited for a moment, thinking of rotting fish so my erection would go down before I did. As I spooned against her, she wiggled her ass against my groin and arranged my arms and hands so that I was holding her like she wanted.

"I asked you to do this because I love sleeping cuddled up. And I know that I can trust you, even though I only just met you yesterday," she said as she placed my right hand on her stomach.

I could not help it. My cock rose to the occasion again against her ass.

"Even with that," she whispered as she wiggled her pelvis.

"Down, boy!" she said as she laughed and kissed my left hand.

"Why?"

"Why what?" she asked.

"Why do you know you can trust me when we only just met yesterday?"

She turned her head to look at me.

"Any guy that makes a pinky promise is a hopeless romantic. I think you're the kind of guy who mates for life. I'll bet you're really reliable, too. I bet I could ask you to hold my money, and you would."

I raised up to look down at her.

"You make it all sound bad."

She just smiled and shrugged. I turned out the light.

As we settled down, I whispered in her ear.

"The only reason I wouldn't run away with your money is because the hotel room is paid through the end of the week."

"It'll do."

A few moments later, I heard her breathing deepen as she fell asleep. I leaned over and could see the smile still on her face. She did feel nice in my arms.

Somehow, I fell asleep, too. In the morning, when I woke up, we were once again back in the position of her lying on my side with her arm across my chest with my left hand on her back, ready to pull up her sleep shirt so I could start stroking her ass crack. Once again, I did not because I had made a pinky promise. This time, when she woke up, neither of us said we were sorry.

At this point, I made a happy discovery. This morning, we were not hung over, and I felt like I wanted a run. I wanted to be a good host, too, so I tentatively suggested that I was going out and the reason why, if Peggy did not mind.

"Oh, no you're not," she said quickly, surprising me.

Before I could argue, she added, "Not without me!"

Before I knew what was happening, she was into her suitcase, then into the bathroom with a handful of clothes, and then back out of the bathroom wearing tight black running shorts and an aquamarine sports bra over which she was pulling a running singlet.

As I stood there in surprise, she looked at me.

"I thought you wanted to run, Estaban. Vite, vite! Allez! Vamonos! Schnell! Schnell!"

I got dressed quickly and, before I knew it, we were running along the Chelsea Embankment on the north bank of the Thames, heading east. She was a head shorter than me and about 60 pounds lighter, but she really pushed me. She was still going strong when I wanted to slack off. Being a guy, I could not let that happen, so I had to keep pace. After three miles, we crossed the river at the Vauxhall Bridge and headed back west. We zipped through Battersea Park, Peggy showing no signs of flagging, and then crossed the river again at the Albert Bridge. Back on the Chelsea Embankment, she started to add speed. My macho pride permitted no failure so I pushed back. We wound up racing to the point we started at. She won. My lungs felt like they were going to explode.

"That was a good light run to get the cobwebs out," she said to me with a smile, and I knew she was messing with me.

"I let you win because I'm a gentleman."

"Ha!"

That day, we went to the Tower of London and the London Eye Ferris wheel. Afterwards, we went to a pub on the south bank of the Thames, near Tower Bridge. We were just sitting together, enjoying the buzz of conversation in the busy bar. I was thinking how easy it was to be with her. She was looking at her phone again but sensed me looking at her.

"What?" she said.

I shrugged.

"I was just thinking about how this turned out to be a much better trip than I was expecting when I got on the plane at the start of the week."

Peggy's eyes played over my face. Then, her jaw set in decision.

"We need to get you laid," she announced.

I laughed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. When was the last time?"

There was no point in lying. I had told her a lot the other day.

"A couple of months ago."

She shook her head.

"A 'couple?'"

"Back in May. Couple of quickies that were a lot like pity fucks. I would have been happier wanking."

"We've got to fix that."

I said nothing as she just looked at me, lost in thought. After a moment, she began to smile.

"I know," she announced. "I can be your wingman and help you pick girls that I think will do it and talk you up to them."

I laughed, but she looked serious, even though she was smiling.

"A wingman is supposed to be a guy friend who distracts the pretty girl's ugly friend so the ace can go after the pretty one. You're not a guy."

"Same idea though. By being with you, I show other women that you're safe. I tell them a short version of your story, making sure that they know you're involved with a sympathetic famous person. You'll have them on their backs counting ceiling tiles before you know it."

"What's in it for you?"

"Just helping a friend who helped me when I needed it. What do you say, Maverick?"

"You know that Top Gun movie is really an allegory for a man's struggle with his own homosexuality, right?"

"What? Shut up!"

"Kelly McGillis is heterosexuality, while Iceman and his crew are trying to get Maverick to go the gay way. Check the Internet."

Peggy considered for a moment.

"Are you saying Malibu Barbie has turned you gay?"

Malibu Barbie. That was a new one.

"Maybe."

"All the more reason to get you back in the game."

"What about you?"

"You had the worse breakup. We're doing you first. After you score, then you can be my wingman and help me get laid."

I looked at her. She was serious. Not about getting laid, but about her needing help to make it happen.

"You wouldn't need any help," I told her. "All you'd have to do is look at a guy and smile."

She turned bright red and pushed me in the chest but did not say anything else. It was at about that moment that a Spanish female university soccer team entered the pub, all wearing matching warmup jackets with their team's name, Las Aguilas--the Eagles. Peggy immediately brightened.

"We have a target-rich environment here now, Maverick."

"If you start singing 'You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin',' I am bailing out the back door and taking an Uber to the hotel."

"I'll do better," she said, and then called out to the girls, "¡Oye, chicas! ¿Quien ganó?"

The closest one, a petite, dark girl with black eyes, surprised to hear her native language, turned, looked us over, and said in perfect English, "We whipped their butts!"

With the lack of seats, she and two of her friends joined Peggy and me.

"I'm Peggy. He's Esteban," she said, pointing at me.

The girls all smiled.

"Esteban?"

I shrugged.

"It's a long story."

Peggy took charge.

"Esteban, be useful. Go get these young ladies something to drink."

Fortunately, they all just wanted beer, so the order was easy. I came back to find them all in deep conversation in Spanish. They stopped talking and stared at me as I delivered the drinks.

The talkative one, Sonya, asked me, "Esteban," pronouncing the name with extra emphasis because she knew it was not true, "if you are still married, where's your ring?"

I glared at Peggy who just batted her eyes.

"I sold it after I confirmed the bitch had a boyfriend."

Sonya and Verónica just laughed. The third girl, Patricia, was busy looking at her phone. She got excited when she found something, and showed it to the other two.

Peggy whispered, "They're checking out your story. I know Sonya is the more outgoing one, but Verónica's got the best body. And she's interested. Every time you look at her, she sticks her chest out and plays with her hair. Reel her in, stud."

With that, Peggy got up and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom, the first woman in the history of human civilization to go to a public restroom by herself. By then, the girls were done their due diligence of my bona fides and were looking at me with sympathy.

"Want to talk about it?" asked Verónica.

I noticed that Peggy was right. She did have the best body. Her face was prettiest, too. As a rule, I like wavy hair, but her shoulder-length straight hair suited her. It was black to match her eyes. Her lips were nice and full and red. Her teeth were so white they nearly blinded me.

"No," I said honestly. "Tell me about your game and what you're doing here."

Those were magic words. All three of them began an animated conversation directed at me but not requiring my participation. Apparently, their university had a sister school in England, and they always played a soccer match at the beginning of the summer with the teams taking turns travelling. The Spanish team usually won. Unlike in the States, most of these girls still lived at home, so this was one of the few times they were able to get away from their parents. Sonya and Patricia had one more year of school to go before they got their degrees. Verónica was studying to be a doctor, so she had three more years.

Peggy sat back down next to me as the girls were talking. Slowly, she stroked her hand up my leg. I got hard almost immediately. Her hand stopped at my pocket, and then she pushed something in. I gave her a side-eye, but she was talking in Spanish to Sonya and Patricia. Verónica was looking back and forth between Peggy and me, and she did indeed have her chest thrust out a bit more. I looked at her chest then up at her eyes. She had seen me do it and was smiling. She was close to my other side and leaned in to whisper.

"Is Peggy your girlfriend now that you don't have a wife?"

"No, she's just a friend."

She gave me a look like she did not believe me. I leaned in to whisper to her more.

"She's actually my wingman."

"Wingman?"

"Like fighter pilots in a dogfight?" I said, waiting to see if she understood.

I continued.

"It's like she's the pilot of the other plane. She watches my back."

Verónica knitted her brown in concentration, trying to understand the English idioms. Then she smiled.

"How come she's not after you herself?"

"I made her a pinky promise that I would be a gentleman."

I had to explain that. Verónica then had to involve Sonya and Patricia in the explanation. Peggy had to confirm the accuracy of my gentlemanly behavior. All three Spanish girls thought the idea was hysterical.

After she stopped laughing, Verónica said that she felt hot and needed some air. She got up and headed to the door. Sonya and Patricia watched me. Peggy poked me in the ribs.

Taking the hint, I said, "I'll go check on her," and followed her out the front door.

Exiting the building, I looked around and saw Verónica leaning over the railing above the concrete wall that ran along the river embankment. Tower Bridge stood over us with the Tower of London across the river. As I walked over, I felt in my pocket where Peggy had her fingers earlier and found three condoms in a strip. I pushed them down into my pants. I came to Verónica's side. She turned and smiled.

"If I drink too much beer, I just get sleepy," she told me.

"Want to take a walk to wake up?"

"OK."

We walked down the river walk enjoying the mild evening until we ran out of river walk to walk on. Then, we turned around and went back the other way. We found a place that sold ice cream and sat on a bench. She insisted on asking again why I was not after Peggy, saying that Peggy had a very nice ass. I seemed to have finally convinced her that I would never break my promise not to mess with her. After that, Verónica told me about growing up in Madrid in a large family with uncles and aunts and cousins spread out over Latin America, the States, and Europe. She was the youngest of four children. I finally told her about Lori as she held my hand.

After I was done, Verónica moved closer to kiss me on the cheek, but she took me by surprise. I assumed she was drunk and did not want to take advantage and turned to say something. It was then that the cheek kiss turned into a tongue kiss that surprised us both. Then, I did not care if I was taking advantage. And her tongue kiss was not drunk in any way, I realized. We recovered, pulled away from each other, and then went back to kissing like we meant it. At the point where I would normally be moving my hand up under her shirt, her phone buzzed to show a text message.

"Ah!" she said. "The bus is leaving! They're waiting for me! I didn't see the other messages!"

We hurried back to see the rest of the team waiting for us. When they saw us, the whole team hooted, hollered, cheered, and then began chanting, "Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!"

So, I did. Just to be polite.

When we were done, and before I could say anything, she said, "I want to see you again, when your life settles down. If you are still available. And if you are finally divorced. If I wanted a married man chasing me, I have a lot of options already back home. So hurry up with the divorce!"

With that, she was gone, only stopping to grab Peggy, and talk to her intensely for a few seconds. Peggy reacted in surprise and then nodded. Verónica ran onto the bus as we waved. I wondered what she had said to Peggy but could not make myself ask.

After the bus pulled away, Peggy and I turned to walk to get an Uber back to the hotel, and Peggy asked, "How many of the condoms do you still have?"

"All of them."

"Does that mean you at least got a blowjob?"

Suddenly, I stopped.

"You did? You did get a blowjob?" Peggy asked in surprise.

But that was not it. I realized I had blown everything.

"Shit! I didn't get her number or e-mail or even her last name. And now she's gone."

Peggy's smile made me pause.

"Relax, Maverick. I'm here to watch your six, remember? Sonya, Patti, and I took care of it while you were on your walk. We traded full work-ups on each of you. I e-mailed everything to you while you two were sucking face."

She said all of that to me with a smug smile. I just stared at her.

"Herrera," she said.

"What?"

"Her last name. Herrera. Her full name is Verónica María de los Angeles Herrera Gutiérrez."

She over-trilled her Rs when she said it.

"You're something else."

"I know."

I smacked her ass, and then put my arm around her as we walked along the river.

Back in the hotel, we climbed into bed.

"Tell you what, Maverick. That was a hell of a kiss."

"Just like a woman to get me worked up and then walk out of my life," I said flippantly, trying to pretend I was not serious.

That remark got an enigmatic stare.

"What?"

Peggy just shook her head as she looked at me with a neutral gaze that I could not decipher.

I broke the uncomfortable silence by adding, "She said you had a nice ass."

Peggy's stare persisted. I could not read her face at all. I gave up trying and rolled the opposite way to turn off the light.

"Do you want me to spoon you tonight?" I asked.

"No," she said without emotion.

She rolled onto her side away from me. I was afraid that she was mad at me for some reason, so I let it go. After a bit, I fell into a light sleep.

About thirty minutes later, I woke to a strange sound. It sounded like rubbing, but there was also the sound of wetness. And there was heavy breathing. The bed was jiggling a bit. I listened for a moment until I was convinced that Peggy was masturbating. Then, I turned on my side to face her. I was hard as a rock. She was on her back, I saw, and immediately stopped what she was doing when she realized I was awake.

Damned Verónica. She did get me interested and worked up, but then she walked out of my life. That decided it. That pinky promise did not contemplate watching the other party masturbate without doing anything about it.

"You know, that feels way better, if you're being held tightly as you do it," I told her.

Not waiting for permission, I put my left hand behind her neck and reached over with my right to grab her shoulder. I put my lips to hers and forced my tongue into her mouth. She did not resist and, after a moment, began kissing back. I stopped the kiss.

"Go back to touching yourself, you horny little bitch. Make yourself cum while I kiss you."

She obeyed and sped up her rubbing. I went back to kissing her. After a moment, I stopped again.

"Take your clothes off," I told her.

In the dim light, I could see the concern on her face.

I told her, "The pinky promise still applies. I'm not going to take advantage of you, but you really need to let yourself feel free to get the best orgasm."

She said nothing but quickly shed her sleep shirt and panties and lay back down. Her breathing rate had increased. She waited until I had wrapped my arms around her again before she resumed touching herself with renewed vigor. I kissed her again, and she tried to suck my tongue into her mouth. After a moment, I reached down to pull her hand away from her clitoris. She moaned in frustration.

"That's a filthy, selfish habit," I told her.

She looked confused.

"Orgasms feel best when they come from someone else, and you deserve the best."

Peggy looked panicked.

"Just my fingers," I said wiggling them at her.

She relaxed a bit, but seemed to be debating inside her mind. Finally, she nodded. I went to her breasts first and lightly stroked her nipples, one by one. They hardened immediately. Then, I stroked down her chest and her stomach. Her skin was covered with goose bumps. I found her downy hair next and was pleased to feel that she had it trimmed into a short, narrow strip. My fingers ran through it and found her clit easily. She was soaked. I began to stroke gently and then increased tempo as I looked down into her eyes, which were closed in concentration. I kissed her, and she returned it eagerly.