Beware of Jamie Romero by Robert Whitmore

Kyle Johnson sat at his table, staring at the empty mailbox on his Instagram app. He had signed up for another book convention because of Jamie Romero. He met her in New Mexico two months before. She had suggested he try the Tennessee Book and Readers Convention after a few drinks at the overpriced hotel bar in Santa Fe.

“Can I get you anything?” asked Morgan, one of the organizers.

“I’m okay,” Kyle said. “The doors open in twenty. Right?”

“Twenty-two minutes,” she answered. “We have bottled water at the front table if you need something.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. I’ve got a little cooler back here,” he said, gesturing toward a small cube on the floor next to him. It bore a Chicago Bears emblem, but she was already moving to the next table.

Kyle hadn’t been to a lot of events, so his nerves were building as they prepared to let people in. He cycled between Facebook, Instagram, and Tik Tok, hoping to jump in on a conversation between the other authors at the event.

In reality, he hoped to hear back from Jamie. He purchased a book from her in New Mexico and bought a few seconds of her time by asking for an autograph. She had complied with a smile, but it meant more to him than her. When he bumped into her at the hotel bar that night, the liquid courage drove him to ask what other events she was doing.

“I’ll be at the Tennessee Book and Readers Convention in a few weeks,” she said. “I think they’ve had a few cancellations. I bet you could get a table.”

“That would be cool,” he said, trying to decide if he could afford another weekend of traveling and staying in a hotel.

“I hope I’ll see you there,” she said before calling it a night and grabbing the arm of another author he hadn’t met.

So, Kyle bought the table and booked the hotel room. He had plenty of vacation days banked up since he never went anywhere. That left him staring at his phone, hoping she would message him.

“Hey!” said a woman to his right.

Jamie walked up with her arms wide and a huge smile on her face. Kyle jumped to his feet, with his face stretching to match hers. He gripped his phone tight, feeling the need to hold onto something as she approached.

“You made it!” she said.

“Yeah,” Kyle said. “You told me this would be a good one.”

“Did I?” she asked, offering a playful smile and flipping her curly black hair onto her right shoulder. “I know I said I’d be here, but it’s the first go ‘round here in Knoxville.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

“Okay, then,” she said, winking at him as she glanced toward the front doors. “I guess we’re going to be busy soon.”

“I hope so!”

“I think you’ll be selling books left and right,” she said. “Anyway, hey, are you staying at the Marriott?”

“I am,” Kyle said. “That’s where the room block was at.”

“Yep. We’ll be down at the fire pit on the patio around eight if you want to come down. I think about a dozen of us will be talking about the day.”

“You’ll be there?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah,” she said, drawing out the silence. “So, yeah, come down and get a drink. You might learn something from someone smarter than me!”

“I’ll come down just to hang out with you.”

“Keep your pants on, Tiger.”

Kyle’s face flushed. His eyes dropped to the stack of books in front of him. He knew his desires had jumped ahead of his common sense.

“Hey, Kyle, we’re good. Okay?” she offered.

“Okay,” he said, unable to look up.

“You better be there tonight.”

“I will.

“Good,” she said.

Jamie walked off toward her table. Kyle couldn’t take his eyes off her swaying ass. One of the authors across the aisle, Jay, started laughing. Kyle turned to look at him.

“It’s a nice dream, friend,” he said.

“What?”

“Dude. I’d be locked in, too, if she gave me half a chance.”

A loud click popped out of the overhead speakers.

“Hey, authors! The doors are opening! Get ready! Get set! Go!” said an overly excited female voice.

“Good luck!” Jay said.

“Thanks. You, too.”

Kyle could see half of the double doorway serving as the entrance to their section of the convention center. The brown, metal door swung open and people started strolling in. He was at least a hundred feet from the door. From that distance, he decided they resembled maple syrup being poured on a hot pancake. Spreading out among the different rows, each clutched a map to find their favorite authors.

Kyle watched people begin to drift by his table. Most smiled, but none stopped. He saw that Jay had already sold a book and began to worry he wouldn’t sell anything at all. He glanced at his phone to see that it had only been five minutes.

—--

“That’s a wrap for day one!” the woman over the speakers said. “Doors open at ten in the morning. Please make every effort to be at your table before doors open, even if you have a massive hangover, Chris.”

Most of the authors started laughing. Kyle wished he was part of the inside joke. Perhaps that would come with time and attending more events.

“How’d you do?” Jay asked.

“I sold eight. No records there, I guess,” Kyle said.

“I’d say that’s a good first day. I had events early on where I only sold five in a whole weekend. Don’t let it get the best of you. It’s a long game.”

“Yeah. I guess it would be nice if I could write and let someone else do this part.”

“Nah, you’re going to enjoy this part more with each event you go to.”

“Maybe so.”

“Anyway, grab your stuff and get back to the hotel. Everyone is usually on their own the first night, but we’ll have a big deal tomorrow night. You better get something substantial, if you’re planning to drink with Jamie. She’s no lightweight.”

“Oh, right. Yep.”

“She’s gorgeous. You don’t have to pretend you didn’t look. She likes it and I think every person here would agree she’s easy on the eyes.”

“Sorry, yeah. I’ll get something good to eat because I plan on drinking with her tonight.”

“Atta boy,” Jay said and went back to his table.

Some authors covered their wares, but most grabbed their version of a cash box and beat a path to the door. Kyle fell somewhere in the back of that group. He hadn’t thought of covering his table, hesitating to see what else he didn’t know.

—--

The hotel that the organizers of the event chose had a beautiful stone patio on the back with wrought iron fencing around it. They had a good view of a thick grove of trees. A long, narrow fire pit stood at the center of a ring of chairs and couches.

Kyle arrived two hours after the doors closed at the event. He had chosen a medium rare prime rib with a potato off the specials menu at a local place. His jaw dropped along with his spirits when he walked onto the patio. The area was packed.

“You can sit over here, Kyle,” Jay said through the noise of a dozen conversations.

Kyle scanned the group and spotted him in a cluster along the right side of the fire pit. He also noticed Jamie sitting at the far end of the group. She held an Old Fashioned lazily in her left hand while she listened to one of the other authors. He was sure she didn’t notice him coming in.

The seats were all mixed about, allowing small groups to adjust in size and location. Kyle found it a little cozy in a few spots, but managed to squeeze through. Jay pushed back a chair and gestured to it.

“Kyle!” called Jamie. Her voice sliced through all the other conversations.

He froze and looked toward her. His position was awkward enough without having everyone turn and look at him. Jamie smiled and motioned for him to come to her. She patted the empty chair next to her where the other author had been. He knew he wouldn’t get another invitation.

“Well, hey there,” she said when he got to the seat.

“Hey,” he said, dropping into the thick padding of the wicker chair’s cushions.

“I was beginning to think you were standing me up.”

“No. I would never. I mean, I’m not rude like that.”

“I know. You seem like a very nice man.”

“Um, thanks! You seem like a very nice woman.”

The corners of Jamie’s mouth turned up slightly as she enjoyed his awkwardness. It was endearing. Finally, she let him off the hook.

“So, Kyle, tell us about your book,” she said and brought her glass up for another sip.

“I guess it’s fantasy.”

“You guess?” asked one of the authors in that small group.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s fantasy. It has magic and dragons and royalty.”

“That’s all it takes to make it fantasy?” asked the same author.

“Get off his nuts, Charles,” said a woman on the other side of Jamie. “He’s just busting your balls. He’s jealous.”

“Jealous of what, Candace?” Charles asked.

“Go get me another beer.”

Charles shook his head, stood up, and started weaving his way to the bar. Candace turned to look at Jamie and then Kyle. She stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“So, anyway,” he said. “It’s my first complete book. I know the storyline isn’t super original, but I tried my best to put a spin on it.”

“That’s what we all do,” Candace said. “It’s like cooking. You can use the same ingredients to make a wide variety of things. Don’t think about one creation eliminating another.”

“Are you working on anything new?” Jamie asked.

“I’ve got a couple WIPs. I’m not sure which one I’ll actually do next. Writing another fantasy would be fun, but it’s exhausting. After today, I think I need to try horror.”

“Oh, there you go,” Jamie said. “I know I’m biased, but I love horror.”

“Maybe you’ll be a beta reader for me on my first try?”

“I would love to,” she said.

Charles came back with the beer five minutes later. They had fallen into a discussion about ideas for new novels. They all agreed that sharing ideas was scary, but that two people wouldn’t write the same book anyway.

“Holy shit,” Candace said three hours later. “It’s almost eleven. I gotta get my old ass to bed.”

“Jesus, when did you get that old?” Charles asked. “You’ve got half an eight-dollar beer left! There are sober kids in China.”

“You drink it,” she said, getting to her feet and stretching. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

“I guess that’s my cue,” Charles said.

He grabbed their glasses. His was long since empty, so he chugged hers down. That was followed by a satisfied sigh and a shrug.

“Go!” Candace said and he did.

Jamie and Kyle watched the pair move across the patio. Only a quarter of the people were left, so the path was simpler. Once they made it to the door, Jamie turned to Kyle. They were the only two left in their small group.

“Want to help me carry in some glasses?”

“Oh, sure,” he said. “Calling it a night?”

“Sort of,” she said and got up. She managed two glasses in each hand and Kyle did the same. The bar staff would still have work to do, but every little bit helped. “Follow me.”

“I will,” Kyle said, the bourbon weakening his filter. His eyes locked on her ass for the second time that day. Their trek to the bar could have taken seconds or months, but he wouldn’t have cared.

“Pauly, the bartender, said we can put them in this tub,” Jamie said once they were inside.

She put hers down and stepped back to allow him room to get in.

“So, what are you doing now?” she asked.

“No clue. I hadn’t thought much beyond this exact moment.”

“You planned on coming to the bus tub with me?” she said with a smirk.

“No, I mean, I was just flying by the seat of my pants.”

“I thought you were an idea guy.”

“Ideas. Yes. Planning? Not so much.”

“I see,” she said, looking around the room. Only two older men remained at the bar, nursing extra large beers. “Look, I’m not usually this forward, but I think you’re pretty cool. Can I talk you into coming upstairs with me?”

Kyle was in shock. She didn’t mention a nightcap or chatting about books. He tried to give his verbal assent, but instead only managed a nod. She tipped her head to the left and led him to the elevator. His brain was trying to process the situation, but nothing made sense.

They went up to the sixth floor. Jamie turned right and made her way to the last door on the left. She held her keycard to the little black box and it beeped. She glanced back at him with a mischievous smile. He looked more like a twelve-year-old boy who had just seen his first pair of boobs.

One king-sized bed was along the right wall. It was still made up perfectly. A lamp was lit on either side of the burgundy headboard. She turned to look at him.

“So, here’s the thing,” she said. “We’ve talked online a few times. We sat downstairs for about three hours and talked. I’ve had my fair share of drinks and I think you have, too.”

“Yes,” he said, although the anticipation of what he expected next was sobering him up quickly. “Yes, I have.”

“Then, I want you to fuck me. Right now.”

“I…”

“Are you a virgin?” she asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and wanting to look shocked. “I’ve had sex before.”

“You’re so cute,” she said and started stripping off her clothes. He stared as her black hair splashed down out of the t-shirt when she pulled it over her head. He had assumed she had a great body based on what he had seen, but he was not prepared for the view he got. “It helps if you take yours off, too.”

“Oh, yes. Ok,” he said.

He yanked off his shoes and socks. The jeans and underwear came off in one motion, revealing that he was clearly ready for action. Jamie smiled and slid onto the bed. She positioned herself near the headboard with a stack of pillows under her. When he got his shirt off and looked at her, he had to pause. She was stroking herself gently with her legs spread wide.

“Come on, then,” she said.

Kyle’s instincts kicked in and he didn’t feel the need to reply. Instead, he crawled on the bed. His progress was closer to a baby trying to get a stuffed toy than a grown man attempting to be sexually attractive. A few seconds later he slid on top of her.

She smiled up at him as he fumbled between them, trying to put himself inside her. She waited patiently as she felt him slide past a couple times. Then, the head of his cock caught on the rim of her asshole and he gave a thrust.

“No, no. Not there,” she said. “At least not yet.”

“Sorry. I’m…”

“Turn over. I’ll take care of the first one.”

“The first one?”

She pushed on his shoulder and he fell to his side. Scooting into a flat position, he waited for her. Her boobs hung down and he reached up to take one in each hand. She reached back expertly and guided him in.

He had been kneading her, but stopped as soon as he felt her on him. His eyes rolled back and realized he had never felt anything this good before. She began to rock gently.

“Just relax,” she said, but she felt every muscle in his body attempting to thrust deeper into her. “All right, then.”

They kept going like that for a few minutes and he felt a sharp tingle at the tip of his dick. It was a little painful at first, but then it shot up into his chest. It gave him a sensation of pure ecstacy. His hands resumed their massage and he felt her tighten around him.

“Tell me about a story idea,” she said.

“A story?” he said between huffs.

“Just an idea. I couldn’t expect you to tell me a whole story in this situation.”

“Oh… okay,” he said, trying to think. A horror story idea he had about cannibals came from somewhere down deep. He started to form the words to tell her and another shock ran through him. This one ripped past his heart and into the base of his brain. “God!”

“Shhh, my loving man. It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t… this feeling… oh God!”

Bolt after bolt of the greatest feeling he’d ever had raced into each appendage. His fingers and toes twitched with excitement. His body began to buck up a few inches. His eyes rolled back in his head. Finally, his hands flew to her hips and pulled her down hard with a powerful upward thrust.

The blast of energy that came next was more than his brain could handle. He couldn’t see anything, but his entire body tingled like he was holding a live wire. When the sensation wore off, he realized she wasn’t on top of him anymore. Instead, she was stretched out next to him. She wore a wide smile and was watching him.

“Thanks for that,” she said.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he said and slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“That’s true,” she said. “You didn’t. Now, I have to be completely honest with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a good writer. Always have been. However, when I was in college, I learned about a power that women in my mother’s family have. They have the ability to pull the creative process out of another person by fucking them.”

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry about understanding. You won’t remember this tomorrow, and you’ll blame the drinks. It is important that you know the drinks did, in fact, lead you to forget what you did after you came upstairs.”

“I’m sorry, but there is no way I’ll forget having sex with you.”

“But you will,” she said, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. Her pristine tanned skin drew his attention, but she was just beyond his reach. “I could make a living on just my own skills, but I found out that having even more ability doesn’t hurt. My rise to fame has been wonderful. The real bonus is the more accolades I get, the more men want to take me to bed. That provides me with a higher quality of creativity for less work.”

“I don’t understand at all.”

“You probably had the best orgasm of your life,” she said, pulling her shirt on. “Not that you have a lot to compare it to.”

“I have cum plenty of times.”

“Oh, sure, I wasn’t counting masturbation,” she said.

He frowned and looked away.

“Look, let’s not make this an unhappy moment. I’m going to go grab another drink and get back to my room.”

“This isn’t your room?”

“Not my main room. This one's for fun and it definitely was. I don’t want you to believe for a moment that I didn’t enjoy that.”

“Why did you say it was the best orgasm of my life?”

“Well,” she said, sliding on her shoes, “I’m sure that lightning of excitement beats out anything your college girlfriend handed out. The unfortunate part is that you didn’t get to finish. For that, I apologize. If you think about it for a minute, you’ll realize you’re still ready to go. Feel free to finish yourself off in the bathroom, but please don’t soil the sheets. I need to go do some writing.”

The door closed a minute later. Kyle stared up at the ceiling. She said she took away his ability to create. That wasn’t possible. He rolled to the bedside table and grabbed the little notepad. A cheap pen with Marriott on it also came along.

He put the tip to the paper and waited. He tried to think of what to write. Anything. Make up a short story idea. A setting for a story. A single character. Anything.

Nothing came and he knew what she said was true. At that moment his memory started to blur. The whole day was clear until he was sitting by the fire pit. Then, nothing. The empty bourbon glass on the table next to him outside slid in front of his mind’s eye. Three more empties joined that glass. He cursed himself for getting drunk.