BURN . . . EROTICA

VOLUME 2

by

Jade Stone

TORRID BOOKS

www.torridbooks.com

Published by

TORRID BOOKS

www.torridbooks.com

An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC

Copyright © 2018 by JADE STONE

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-68299-276-0

Credits

Cover Artist: Kristian Norris

Editor: Cammi Smith

Printed in the United States of America

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Burn . . . Erotica Volume 1

Black Jack

“Tamara,” called my boss. “Can you come here please?”

I stopped what I was doing and went over to her desk.

“Tamara,” she said again, her voice low. I saw her eyes were narrowed, so I bent my head lower. This was obviously serious.

“Now, when we go away to the forum, you stay away from that Jack McCoy,” she said.

I felt my face redden, but I straightened up defensively.

“There is nothing going on between me and Jack McCoy,” I quietly stated back.

“Good. Keep it that way,” she replied, looking me straight in the eye.

I nodded, and scurried back to my seat.

Jane missed nothing. And she had obviously noticed I was getting a bit close to her other aforementioned employee. But I had told her the truth. There was nothing happening between Jack and I. Not yet. But she didn’t need to know that part. Same as she didn’t need to know that I was going to resign at the end of the year, which was now just three months away.

There was a lot my boss didn’t know about me. I’d worked with her since I got promoted from junior receptionist to her assistant when I was nineteen, three years ago now. But while a lot of my colleagues liked to talk about everything that was going on in their lives, I kept my private business to myself. Such as the fact that I was nearing twenty-three years old and I was still a virgin. That was definitely something I never discussed. Only my best friend knew about that.

I never planned to stay a virgin this long; I am not religious, and I am definitely not frigid. But I have always been shy around people I don’t know well, especially men. And once I graduated high school, I entered an awkward few years where I just didn’t meet anyone. Unlike my friends who all went to college, I went straight into the workforce, where I was surrounded by people a lot older than myself. I wasn’t sure what career I wanted to do, so at age eighteen I took a reception job at this travel company that had been advertised on the school notice board. After high school, I didn’t get to see my friends much anymore; they were all so busy with college life. I have to admit those four years were pretty darn lonely. But I had finally decided what I wanted to do, and I enrolled at culinary school for the next year. I had also decided I was not going to enter my twenty-third year a virgin. And I knew just the man who could ‘help’ me.

Before he arrived, I was warned about him.

“Be careful with that guy,” whispered others. “He loves women, but too much. He cheated on his wife. He’s a heartbreaker. A dog. A big slut.”

I had no plans to go near a guy who sounded like such a sleaze. Then I met him.

I have met a lot of sleazy men, but Jack McCoy was not one of them. He only ever treated me with the utmost respect and chivalry. Because of my young age, and—in some people’s eyes—my lowly position as Jane’s assistant, many people were dismissive toward me. But not Jack. He always gave me the time of day, the same as he gave everyone the time of day, no matter who they were.

‘Black Jack,’ as he was known, was our leading sales representative. He was nearing forty, with movie star looks, and movie star magnetism to match. He had a megawatt white smile and a holding gaze that was almost hypnotic. But, true to his reputation, he was also a pin stripe suited, cigar smoking, heavy drinking womaniser, who earned his nickname by creaming Black Jack at the casino. He always played too many times after he won, though, so he never profited much from his talent at the game. But the clients loved him. He’d actually worked previously at another office in a different state, but after his marriage ended, he took a transfer to our city. I was surprised he’d been married at all, given what he was like.

I hadn’t had a boyfriend since I was eighteen. I had planned to sleep with my boyfriend, but, unfortunately, he dumped me for someone else before we got that far. Back then, I had no idea that almost five years later I still would not have met anyone else. I think I was very patient, but in the end I was as frustrated as hell. Nearing twenty-three years old, and never having had a man’s cock inside me, had become a slow burning torture. And I was starting to really notice Black Jack.

I was under no illusions; this was not a man to fall in love with. Fun with him would never last. But that was exactly what I was looking for. Fun. And that was what I was intending to have when we attended the annual sales forum.

I was not usually invited to the forum, but I had convinced Jane that I would be more useful managing the event onsite rather than from back at the office. It was for three days and two nights at a resort a few miles away, and it was optional to stay overnight. I opted to stay overnight. And I had my fingers crossed a certain man would also be staying.

The date of the forum finally arrived. I sat through the boring sales presentations with Jane’s team the whole morning, keeping an eye on the door, waiting for Jack to enter, but to my disappointment, he never appeared. By three o’clock in the afternoon, I was starting to feel my heart sink. Jack was always late, but never this late. What I had been hoping to happen later that night wasn’t going to eventuate. I slumped back in my chair, tuning out my boss, who was still droning on about next year’s sales targets. I was going to stay a virgin until I was thirty. Maybe forever.

Then the door opened, and in walked Jack McCoy. My heart leapt into my mouth and thudded against my chest. Jane gave him a very unimpressed look, but he simply grinned that white smile of his, the one that allowed him to get away with anything. He gave me the same smile as he took his seat at the table, directly across from me. I put my hands over my cheeks to disguise the redness that had filled them, and crossed my legs to contain the intense heat that had swelled between my thighs. Just the mere sight of him had sent all my senses into a tailspin. I suddenly realised someone was saying my name.

“Tamara!” Jane barked.

“Yes?!” I replied.

“Can you tell us the date of the next board meeting, please?”

“Oh, sure,” I stumbled, quickly looking it up on my iPad, painfully aware that all eyes were on me, including Jack’s.

I could smell his aftershave from across the table. The sexy scent wafted into my nostrils and made my head dizzy with desire. A sweat broke out across my back. It matched the wetness that was seeping into my underwear. I finally found the date Jane needed.

“January twentieth,” I informed her, careful not to make eye contact with Jack.

I felt his eyes on me as I tried to compose myself, hoping I wouldn’t be asked any more questions, because I was in no state to answer anything more. I was glad I wasn’t required to take minutes at this session.

The session finally wrapped at six-thirty, an hour later than scheduled. We all filed out to the bar for pre-dinner drinks. I ordered a gin and tonic, and scanned through the crowd for Jack. Once again, he was nowhere to be seen. I sipped my drink, trying not to look or feel too disappointed.

Finally, just before the bell rang for dinner, he appeared. I smelt him before I saw him, the aroma of spicy aftershave and cigar smoke. I froze as I felt him behind me.

“What are you drinking, my lady?” he whispered in my ear.

I was still sipping on the last of my drink, which I drained very fast. I turned to him, my eyes meeting his hypnotic gaze. My knees went weak as his eyes locked with mine.

“What are you drinking?” I croaked out.

“I drink anything,” he replied, giving me a wink.

“You choose,” I said.

Jack grinned at the barman.

“Give this lovely lady a flaming Sambuca,” he commanded. “Make it two. Make it a backdraft.”

I was the daughter of two teetotallers, and I had no idea what he had just ordered. My eyes widened when the barman set my drink on fire.

“Oh...,” I gasped, as he then threw cinnamon over it, causing the flames to flick up toward the ceiling.

I watched, enthralled, as the barman then covered the drink with an empty glass, capturing the vapours inside. As he added some ice to the glass, Jack helped himself to two straws, handing one to me. Then he grabbed the two shots, handing the second one to me.

“Cheers, my lady,” he said, giving me that smile as he clinked my shot glass. We both drained our shots. The warm liquor slid down my throat, setting my taste buds on fire, along with the rest of my body.

The barman held out the glass containing the ice.

Jack inserted his straw inside, inhaling the vapours. I had no idea what he was doing, but I followed suit. I felt the vapours fill my lungs, the liquorice flavour of the Sambuca washing through my mouth. I must have sucked a bit hard, because next thing I started coughing. Jack put his hand on my back.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I gasped back, stunned at the feel of his touch, which caused me to cough again.

He stroked his hand all over my back, all over my hair. I leaned over the bar, pretending to get my breath, but I was actually savouring the feel of this gorgeous man’s hand rubbing my body. I realised no man had ever stroked my back like this, and it felt so good. I wiped my brow, the alcohol in the vapour now hitting me. Its warmth filled me all over. Jack leaned closer, his hand still stroking my back, the warmth now surging between my legs, heightened by the alcohol I had just inhaled.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked. “Sorry, that might have been a bit much. Vapour is pretty strong.”

“Yeah, wow,” I said, letting out a laugh. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

I noticed the barman had gone to the other end of the bar, and we were the only people left. Everyone else had gone to dinner. And Jack’s hand was still stroking my back... I didn’t dare look him in the face. I could already feel his piercing eyes fixed on me. To look at them would knock me off the barstool. I poured myself a glass of water before I could talk again, and before I could finally look at him.

“Do you like your room?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s great,” he replied, smiling, looking me deep in the eyes.

I smiled back. I felt the strokes on my back get a bit firmer.

“Did you arrange it?” he asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah, I did,” I replied, feeling my face redden even more than it was already. “Everybody has the same room type.”

I had in fact booked everyone the same type of room—an upgrade to executive suite. I’d told my boss they were the only ones available, but Jack didn’t need to know that.

“Very nice,” he said. “I don’t usually get a double suite with a king sized bed, full mini bar, and an outside balcony,” he said. “I certainly have no complaints...”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I like it a lot,” he replied huskily.

I felt his hand slide a bit lower down my back. The heat between my legs started to pound, along with my thudding heart. I could feel where this was going, and I couldn’t believe it was finally happening. Then he removed his hand from my back.

“We should probably get some dinner,” he said. “See you in the main restaurant.”

As I watched him leave, I felt like someone had thrown cold water over me. I wanted this man to fuck me so badly, but I wasn’t sure if he was gonna go through with it.

I sat at a different table from him during dinner, making annoying small talk with colleagues from a different office and barely tasting my food. There was only one thing I wanted in my mouth, and it was Jack McCoy’s cock.

After dessert was finally served, I saw Jack go back to the bar area with some other people. I waited a while before I made my own entrance. When I arrived, I found him sitting in the cigar lounge with some blonde. I had never seen her before. She was obviously an outsider. I waited until I caught Jack’s eye. He gave me a smile, which was all I needed. I went and plonked myself down on the other side of him. Jack went to introduce me to the blonde.

“Tamara,” he began, sucking on his cigar. “This is...sorry, what was your name again?”

“Mandy,” she replied, giving me a fake smile.

“This is Tamara,” he continued. “We work together.”

The blonde glared daggers at me over her cocktail glass, which I returned. Normally I would never be so catty, but I didn’t know who she was and I didn’t care; I wanted to get laid tonight, and no one was getting in my way. As she made small talk with Jack, I continued glaring at her, hoping she’d think he was already with me and leave us alone. I briefly scanned the room, also hoping my boss wouldn’t see us. I didn’t see Jane anywhere. Then my plan worked—the blonde finally excused herself after a few minutes, leaving me alone with Jack.

Jack took a long drag on his cigar.

“So what time does Tamara usually retire for the night?”

“Depends when the bar closes,” I said.

“The bar is closed,” Jack replied.

He edged slightly closer to me. His knee met mine. A quiver shot up my spine.

“What are we going to do about that?” he asked huskily.

“I guess I’ll need to continue at the mini bar in my room,” I said quietly.

“Now there’s a grand plan,” said Jack. “I think I’ll do the same.”

He stubbed out his cigar and stood up from his chair. He smiled down at me.

“Guess I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, giving me a wink. “Don’t drain the whole mini bar now.”

I sat in my chair as I watched him walk away, dumbfounded. Was this guy fucking with my head? The heat between my legs that had been building up to a raging fire dissipated in a couple of seconds. I was about to storm out of the cigar bar when I saw the key to his room sitting on his chair. I picked it up, staring at it. Was this...what I thought it was? I dialled him on my mobile phone.

“You left your room key here,” I told him when he answered.

“Oh, I did?” he asked. “Well, I have another. You can give it to me in the morning. Unless, you want to bring it to me tonight...?”

It didn’t take me long to decide. Not long at all.

“See you in the morning,” I replied before hanging up, and began walking toward the elevator.

When the doors closed behind me, I looked down at Jack’s room key. His room number was 818. I pushed level eight. As the elevator slowly moved upwards, I stood alone inside, staring at myself in the mirror, holding the key to his room. My heart thudded against my chest. Did I really want to do this? With him? There was no going back if I did... The thought of Jack McCoy made my thudding heart skip a beat. The thought of his mouth on mine made it pound. And the thought of his cock inside me made me so hot I could barely breathe. When the doors opened, I had my answer.

He answered on my second knock. Even though I had a key, I was too nervous to use it. As he stood against the doorframe, I could tell he’d been expecting me. But I stood frozen to the spot.

“Tamara Montgomery,” he whispered. “You are a very naughty girl...”

When I didn’t respond, he reached for my wrist, pulling me toward him. As soon as we were in his room and the door had closed behind us, his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips covered mine. At first, I went completely limp. As he held me, and his tongue entered my mouth, I literally felt as though I was falling from a cliff. My head fell back as his mouth dropped down and he covered my neck with kisses. I gasped as his hair brushed under my chin, his breath against the sensitive skin on my neck making the room spin. I felt his fingers undo the buttons on my jeans, and his hand slipped inside. I gasped into his shoulder as his fingers met my dripping wet sex, two of his fingers gliding easily inside me. I moaned as he fucked me with his hand.

“You okay?” he whispered in my ear.

“Oh yeah...” I murmured back.

“You seem a little drunk...”

“I’ve never felt better,” I whispered truthfully.

“You are really, really wet,” he said huskily.

“That’s because of you...”

“That’s good.”

I melted into him as his mouth met mine again, and the room swirled as his hands pushed my jeans down over my ass. He was right. I was drunk. Drunk with lust. Never had I felt so overcome with lust in my life. I had wanted this so badly for so long that my desire for sex was overwhelming me, and I could tell he was genuinely shocked at how wet I was. I found my back against the wall as he ran his hands over my breasts, and I could feel his erection hard against my stomach. As his tongue explored my mouth and his hands explored my body, I went to grab his belt buckle, but he was already dropping to his knees. By now, my jeans and panties were down by my own knees. He nudged my legs further apart, running his hands up the outside of my thighs as he looked up at me. My knees began to quiver as I realised what he was about to do.

“Tamara,” he said naughtily. “You are trembling...”

I could not answer him. All I could do was gape down at him and run my hand through his hair as he buried his face into my wet, quivering sex. I gasped as his tongue met me there, my breath catching in my throat as his tongue slid and flicked all over the wet flesh. I continued running my hands through his hair, grasping his head as he drove me crazy with his skilful tongue, making my clit swell. I rolled my head back against the wall as the waves of pleasure washed over me. This was the farthest I had ever been with any man, and I wanted more, and more...

Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I exploded in his mouth. The orgasm hit me so hard my head hit the wall, and I literally saw stars. As I gasped for breath, he got to his feet. I recovered fast, because by then we both had an animal-like hunger for each other. He ripped my shirt open as I ripped open his pants. His mouth met mine again as his huge cock met my hand. I had never felt a dick as large as his before, and the size of it stunned me a bit as it continued to swell in my hand. I stroked up and down as he continued kissing me, his hands clasping my breasts, thumbing my nipples as they stiffened to his touch.

By the time we made it to the large bed, we had lost all our clothes. I fell on my back as Jack fell on top of me, between my legs. His head dropped to my breasts, and my nipples ached as he sucked hard on each of them. As I caressed his head while he sucked on my tits, my cunt ached for his cock. The anticipation of having a cock inside me for the first time ever—and such a large one at that — was also starting to fill me with anxiety. But when he rose on his knees and I saw his impressive swollen manhood, my anxiety was overcome by lust. My first instinct was to lean over and take his cock in my mouth. I had been dreaming about sucking him off since the day I met him, but I was aching too much to have him somewhere else. I wanted him to fuck me as soon as possible, and pierce through my virginity. I almost panted with anticipation as Jack reached across to the bedside table and pulled out a box of condoms. He expertly bit off the top of the wrapper, removed it, and rolled it down over his cock. He pushed my knees apart, and I clenched my teeth, holding my breath as his cock made its way toward my virginity. I took in a gulp of air as I felt it pushing against my entrance, and I gasped loudly as he practically slammed it in.

Jack didn’t seem to notice my reaction. As soon as he was inside me, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, holding me tight as he lay on top of me. He started to thrust. Hard. I cried out in both pleasure and pain as his cock pulled out then slammed back inside me, again and again. I almost wanted to ask him to stop, or to be more gentle, but I was determined to get through it. After about two minutes, I felt myself start to adjust to his size and rhythm, and I adjusted my pelvis and relaxed my thoughts and muscles. Once I relaxed, I immediately felt the sensations change. As his cock slammed in and out of my pussy, I felt my hips instinctively rise up to meet his thrusts. I closed my eyes, and let basic instinct take over. My mouth met his, and he held me tighter as he hammered into me, his tongue rolling over mine in my mouth, my hips rising up to meet each thrust, my pussy tightening around his girth. As he continued pounding, I felt my pussy get tighter and tighter and all my joints locking together. Then I felt my whole body stiffen. I squeezed my eyes shut and shrieked out as I came, my head flying back as Jack came at the same time, groaning into my neck, releasing his warm juices. I panted as the orgasm continued washing over me, while Jack groaned as he finished his. I felt his muscles finally relax, and he collapsed on top of me, burying his face in my neck.

I ran my hands over his smooth back as I stared up at the ceiling, over his shoulder, absorbing what had just happened. I had finally had sex...and it was better than I had ever imagined. I closed my eyes and savoured this gorgeous man who was still inside me. I was almost disappointed when he sat up and slowly pulled himself out of me. He sat on the side of the bed, and gave me a grin.

“Phew! That was good!” he said. “Better go clean myself up, unless you want to use the bathroom first?”

“No, you go,” I replied, smiling.

I watched the back of him as he walked, nude, to the bathroom, realising that until now I hadn’t actually seen him naked properly. He looked really good; he must’ve had a regular workout routine. He left the door open as he quickly showered. When he came out wearing a towel around his waist, I saw his impressive chest, and felt a twitch between my legs at the sight of him. As I went to use the shower myself, I saw him start mixing me a gin and tonic at the mini bar. I felt a pang of something I hadn’t felt before, or expected to feel. I knew exactly what it was. Attachment.

I stepped into the shower. Do not, I told myself, get attached to Jack. He will only hurt me. I decided I’d better return to my room rather than stay the night in here. Sleeping next to and waking up with this man was going to lead to an even deeper connection, which he would only trample on later. But there was something I hadn’t done yet, that I really wanted to do. I really wanted to suck his cock. My mouth watered at the thought of it. I was also very nervous. I had never done it before, and I just hoped he didn’t think I was useless.

After I dried myself off, I put on a complimentary bathrobe and joined him at the bar. He clinked my glass. He then sat back in his chair, watching me. Just when I was about to start feeling uncomfortable, he said something I was not expecting to hear.

“Tamara...before tonight, you’d never done anything with anyone, had you?”

I almost spat out my drink. I let my hand drop the glass to the bar top with a thud as I struggled to gulp down my mouthful.

“What the hell?” I exclaimed. “Why would you say that?”

Jack smiled at me as I stared at him, aghast.

“I’m not criticising you,” he said. “Not one bit. But I’ve been around a while. You can’t fool me. Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

I turned away. I couldn’t look at him. I was too embarrassed. I wanted to run out of there, but my feet felt like lead. I felt Jack’s hand on my back. He was stroking it again, the same way he had earlier that evening. I closed my eyes at the feel of his touch. Even now, it was having the same effect on me. Despite my embarrassment, I felt the dampness start between my legs.

“I wanted to turn you away, because I know I’m not the sort of guy you wanna get involved with. But I’m too weak for that. I find you very, very attractive.”

The stroking on my back became firmer. The dampness between my legs began to spread. Then he raised his hand and tucked my hair behind my ear. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

“I am very, very flattered, that you wanted to do this with me,” he whispered huskily. “But we can’t ever be more than this, because I want to go back to my ex-wife. But if you’re up for it, I’m happy to do it a few more times.”

I reached my hand out and met his knee. I felt the softness of his towel as I slid my hand beneath it, meeting his thigh. I heard his breath quicken as I worked my way up his thigh. He moaned as I found and grasped his cock, which was already fully aroused. I moved my hand up and down his shaft as I felt my own arousal rise higher.

“Jack,” I whispered, finally turning around.

“Yes?”

I met his hypnotic gaze once again. I almost felt myself drown under the weight of his crystal blue eyes.

“I would really like it if you let me suck your cock...”

His cock throbbed in my hand, and his eyes didn’t leave mine as his hand covered my own. He stroked my hand with his fingers as I continued stroking him, still staring deeply into my eyes.

“My dear lady,” he said softly. “You never have to ask if you can suck my cock...”

I practically fell into him as his mouth met mine. My robe slid off my shoulders and dropped to the floor, as did his towel. He led me over to the bed, and I dropped to my knees as he sat on the edge. He buried his hands in my hair as I took his cock in my mouth. I stroked my hand up and down his shaft as I flicked my tongue all over his head, sucking him hard. I even managed to take him all the way to the back of my throat.

“Oh my god,” he panted as I sucked him harder. “How did you learn to do this...?”

I was surprised myself—I didn’t gag once, and I could tell by the way he was responding that he was genuinely enjoying my performance. Having him so wildly turned on really turned me on, too. Just having his beautiful cock in my mouth made me extremely wet between my legs. Then I felt his balls really stiffen, and I guessed he wasn’t far from coming. I relaxed my jaw as he blew his load into my mouth, savouring the taste and feel of his juices sliding down my throat. Jack stroked my hair as I slowly released him from my mouth.

“You are amazing...” he breathed.

We fell back on the bed, where we held each other for a long while. When I finally said goodbye, he gave me a long kiss, and I returned to my own room.

Black Jack and I continued our affair until I left at the end of the year. I suspect it was no secret, either. Our colleagues were nosy bunch of people, and everyone knew Jack’s reputation. But I didn’t care. I was leaving, never to return.

When I left, I cut all contact with Jack. He did call me a few times, but I didn’t get back to him. I think he was disappointed, but I knew my limits. I knew if I continued to see him, I would start to get too attached to him, and it would interfere with any potential relationship I might have in the future. It was for the best, really, as I soon met a great guy at culinary school.

I did not expect to be a virgin into my twenties, and I did not expect to lose my virginity in the way that I did. But when most women say their first time was their worst time... I can sincerely say that my first time was the very best.

My only regret is that I didn’t get to meet Black Jack a lot sooner.

Cupcakes and Champagne

For as long as I can remember, I have loved women as much as I love men. I was married to a man for ten years. Some people seem to think that when you marry a man it ‘cures’ you from liking women, but, of course, that isn’t the case. You like what you like. But I never strayed from my husband with anyone; it was he who left me nine months ago for a woman he worked with.

I’ve now gotten over the hurt and anger of what he did. Well, kind of. It will take longer than nine months to heal completely, but for now I am ready to get my rocks off with someone hot. Preferably female.

I’ve had my eye on this super-hot red head at my son’s school. Her name is Jackie, and she’s a divorcée like myself with a six-year-old son, same age as mine. We met at the school gates when picking up our sons, who are friends. The attraction was instant. I can always tell when a woman is hot for me. Even when I was married I could pick up on it, I just didn’t act on any of it back then. But now I am a free woman.

When I received the school newsletter seeking parents to volunteer for fundraising, I raised my hand. I was delighted when Jackie told me she had volunteered, too.

I am now at home waiting for Jackie to come over to discuss a cupcake stall we plan to set up this weekend. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s cupcakes. I can whip up a white chocolate vanilla cupcake that makes people weak at the knees. I just love the decadence of cupcakes. The silky icing that melts inside your mouth, and the velvety sponge that dissolves amongst it, making a gorgeous concoction that explodes against your taste buds. I made a batch this morning, which I just finished icing with baby pink frosting and shimmering silver balls. They are sitting on my kitchen table on the three-tiered cupcake stand, just waiting to be eaten. I am imagining myself feeding one to Jackie. She told me she would be here by eleven o’clock, but it’s now eleven-thirty and she’s still not here. I hope she is just running late and not standing me up.

Anyway, I’ve started drinking champagne, and have sexy Sade playing on the stereo. I don’t usually drink during the week, especially so early, but the anticipation of having Jackie come over is really doing something to me. My hands have been shaking with anticipation since yesterday, and I needed something to calm me down. But the champagne has only made me more horny for her. When I saw her yesterday, she was wearing her usual sky blue yoga pants and top. They really accentuate her hot, taut body and her shapely, toned ass. The thought of her gorgeous ass, and what I want to do to it, makes me hornier than ever.

Finally, I hear her car enter my driveway. I drop back the last of the champagne in my glass and head toward the front door. I’ve already drunk half the bottle; I might have to open a new one.

I quickly check myself in the mirror. I’m wearing my own yoga outfit, even though I’ve never done yoga in my life. I laugh to myself—I have become the epitome of soccer mom. I need to think seriously about getting back into the workforce soon. I have too much pride to live off my rotten ex-husband’s funds for too much longer.

I open the door before Jackie has a chance to knock. My breath catches in my throat as I catch sight of her. She’s coming toward me, her long red hair flowing behind her as she carries a tray of her own cupcakes in her arms, her milk white skin gleaming in the sun, a bright white smile on her face.

“Hi, Camille! So sorry I’m so late!” she calls.

“Better late than never,” I reply with a grin.

I stand aside as she walks in, getting a whiff of her perfume—Tommy Hilfiger’s Tommy Girl. I absorb the gorgeous notes of fruit and flora. The girl has got good taste. Boy, I can’t wait to taste her...

She’s nattering away about why she was late, but I’m not really listening. I don’t care that she’s late, I’m just glad she’s here.

She pulls the lid off her cupcake tray, revealing a dozen chocolate cupcakes with lopsided frosting. I can tell by looking at them they’re really dry, too.

“What do you think?” she asks hesitatingly.

I don’t tell her what I really think. So far I’ve never met anyone who can make a cupcake as good as I can, in all modesty.

“They look great,” I tell her.

I raise my champagne glass, which is almost empty.

“I know it’s early, but will you have a drink with me?” I ask.

Jackie giggles.

“It’s never too early for a glass of champagne,” she replies.

She follows me to the dining room, and sees my cupcakes on the three-tiered stand.

“Oh, wow...” she says at the sight.

She looks down glumly at her own.

“I, uh, I’m not that good at baking...”

Like I care about her baking. All the same, I take one of her cupcakes and take a slow bite out of it. She watches me intently as I do this. I don’t even have to pretend I’m enjoying it, because I am. I look back at her as I swallow down my mouthful, but I don’t really taste it. Her beautiful face is too distracting, and my clit is twitching too much from her being so close to me, her Tommy perfume filling my nostrils.

“It’s delicious...” I tell her huskily.

She smiles a sultry smile and lays her hand on my arm. Her touch almost knocks me over. This woman is so hot I can barely breathe in her presence.

“May I taste yours?” she asks me quietly, still smiling.

“Go for your life,” I reply, barely getting my voice out.

“I’ll have that glass of champagne first, though,” she tells me with a naughty glint in her eye.

I hope to hell she can’t tell my hands are shaking as I pour us both a glass. Luckily, I don’t drop the bottle. As I pour the champagne, silence lies between us, except Sade singing her song Cherry Pie on the stereo. Such a fitting song, except Jackie is so much sweeter than cherry pie.

She takes the glass from me, and takes a seat at the table. I clink my own against hers.

“What are we toasting to?” she asks.

“To good cupcake sales,” I reply.

“Ah, of course,” she says slyly, raising her glass to her mouth.

Her hot, pouty lips meet my champagne flute, her pink lipstick leaving an imprint around the rim as the glass leaves her mouth.

“You gonna try one of my cupcakes?” I ask her, my voice huskier than I intend.

Her eyes lock with mine as she holds her glass, swirling the liquid inside.

“You gonna give me one?” she asks. I don’t miss the huskiness in her voice, either.

I smirk at her slyly, swirling the liquid in my own glass. With my other hand, I pluck a cupcake from the stand and hold it up in front of her.

“Will you come here and get it...?” I ask quietly.

Jackie slowly puts her glass down and leans toward me. She places both hands on my knees. My breath catches in my throat as she begins to move her thumbs in small, caressing motions.

“Come where and get it?” she breathes.

“How about...right here?” I breathe back.

She gets up off her chair, still with her hands on my knees, and comes closer. She starts to lower herself down onto my lap.

“Is this where you mean?” she whispers.

I nod slowly as I place my glass on the table, my other hand holding my pink vanilla cupcake as it moves forward, toward her mouth. The plump pink frosting meets her pouty lips. Jackie eyes me as she takes it in her mouth. Her tongue dips into the icing.

“Wow...” she whispers, slowly licking the icing from her lips and swallowing it down.

My mind is candyfloss. I feel my head go forward, the cupcake in my hand falling to the floor as my mouth meets her lips. I am stationary in my chair for a few moments, my lips against hers, because I am too stunned to move. I have fantasised about this for so many weeks, and now it is actually happening. I finally respond properly, and my hands rise to meet her waist. She starts to kiss me hungrily, and my arms wrap around her. Her tongue enters my mouth, filling my taste buds with pink vanilla, as my hands enter the back of her yoga pants.

We’re all over each other now. I release my mouth from hers as she throws her head back, and my mouth meets her neck. Jackie moans and grips the back of my head as I suck around her neck and caress her tight ass.

I let my mouth lead lower, down to her chest, and I raise my hands to her tits. I rub my hands over her yoga top as she continues rubbing the back of my head, her hands running through my hair. I pull up her top, and her amazing breasts pop out. I immediately take one in my mouth. Her nipple hardens under my tongue as I suck it hard, savouring the taste and feel of woman. I have missed it for so long. Now I just have to taste her pussy. I release her delicious tit from my mouth.

“Stand up,” I command hoarsely.

As soon as she stands up, I tug down her yoga pants and g-string, revealing more silky white skin and a small strip of auburn pubic hair leading down between her legs. I knew she was a true red head.

I push her against my table, then hoist her up so her ass is sitting on top of it. Jackie kicks off her running shoes as I hurriedly peel down her pants till I get them off. I position myself between her legs and she wraps them around my neck, slowly parting them for me as I kiss down this beautiful naked woman’s thigh. I get whiff of her intoxicating scent as I get closer to her pussy, all pink and folded between her milk white thighs at the end of her red strip of hair.

I finally meet that pink flesh, and I sink my mouth into it. Jackie moans as I part her folds with my tongue, her wetness seeping out. I swirl my tongue all over her hot, pink wetness, flicking her clit and diving in and out of her, eating her pussy like I haven’t eaten pussy for years and years, which I haven’t. I can’t believe how much I have missed this.

She digs her fingers into my scalp as I eat her out, and I run my hands all over her beautiful white thighs and stomach. Her clit starts to swell beneath my tongue, and I can feel her starting to tense all over. I flick my tongue over her clit faster, hearing her breath match my rhythm, then her legs tighten around my shoulders, and her back arches as she cries out. Her pussy pulsates as she comes in my mouth, her wetness flooding all over my tongue.

When she finally relaxes, I lift my head. I look at the beautiful naked woman sprawled out on my table, her legs hanging over the side. I realise my own panties are drenched, and I haven’t even orgasmed myself yet.

I am about to say something, but Jackie rises from the table and plants her mouth on mine, giving me a passionate kiss as she raises her hand to my chest.

Soon we are fully making out again, and Jackie pushes up my sports bra, caressing my tits with one hand as her other hand reaches lower, down inside my yoga pants. Her tongue flicks over mine as her fingers meet the wet flesh inside my pants, her index finger finding my clit right away. I gasp at the immediate pleasure that hits me—fuck, this girl knows what she’s doing. I gasp again as her hand goes lower and she slips two fingers inside me.

Jackie’s lips unlock from mine and my head falls back as she fucks me with her hand. I go to touch her pussy as well, but she has other plans for me. Instead, she pulls my sports bra over my head, then takes her fingers out of me and pulls down my yoga pants. I didn’t bother putting on any shoes this morning, so I easily step out of my pants, just as she drops to her knees. I stare down at her as she looks up at me, her demure eyes full of naughtiness, and reaches around with both hands to grab my ass.

I hold the edge of the table as tightly as she holds my ass, while her mouth hungrily meets my pussy. With my other hand, I grip the back of her head as I stare up at the ceiling, feeling my eyes glaze over. I become overwhelmed with pleasure as she skilfully glides her tongue all over my wet, pulsating pussy.

Then I feel her hands rise to my hips, and she starts to nudge me toward the table. At first, I don’t know what she has in mind, until she manoeuvres herself behind me and pushes a hand down on my back.

I bend over the table as she gets between my legs. Her mouth meets my pussy again from behind as her hands rise up to my ass, which she caresses while she eats me out. Then I feel her tongue rise up to my asshole. My breath catches in my throat as I feel her tongue sink into my most intimate place.

I melt into the table, my arms outstretched and my hands gripping the edge, as this woman takes me to a place in the pleasure palace I have never experienced. Her tongue swirls all over my asshole, dipping in and out, then sliding back down into my dripping folds, flicking my clit and diving in and out of my pussy.

I can’t take it anymore; I cling to the edge of the table as I start to shudder. But Jackie doesn’t let up—her tongue flicks my clit from behind harder and faster than ever, and I start to shake.

I almost snap off the edge of my dining table as I explode in her mouth, and she holds my ass down as I convulse all over the table top. I hit my tiered cupcake stand, causing some of them to fall off.

When I eventually calm down, I feel Jackie rise behind me, and she takes a seat on one of the chairs.

I finally raise my head and look back at her. She sits in my chair, still completely naked, holding a fresh cupcake. She sinks the decadent cake into her mouth as she eyes me.

“These are so delicious,” she says sultrily. “I am so looking forward to eating more of them...”

I slowly rise up from the table as I grin at her.

“And I’m really looking forward to eating more of yours...” I reply. “How about another glass of champagne?”

Jackie winks at me.

“You betcha.”

I finally get my breath back as I enter my kitchen to fetch another bottle of champagne, and I grin to myself.

I am really going to enjoy this fundraiser.

Champagne on Ice

I’ll admit, I don’t really like a fuss. I’ve never had a birthday party. I am not the type to throw a big celebration in my own honour. If I ever get married, it will be in a registry office. But when not one person acknowledged my twenty-fifth birthday, I felt like shit. Here I was, a quarter of a century old, and not even my parents remembered.

By eight o’ clock that night, I had only an hour left on my shift at the Italian restaurant where I work as maître d’, so I briefly checked my phone to see if I received even a single text from someone saying Happy Birthday. Nothing. I slinked back to the front, where I could see two men waiting. I passed a family on the way who were having a birthday celebration. The wine was flowing and the birthday cake was almost gone. They were having a great night. I forced myself to smile toward them, then greeted the two men waiting to be served, who asked for a table for two for dinner. I was so absorbed in my own self-pity that I barely took note of their faces, so I got a bit of a surprise when one of them said my full name.

“Natasha Francois-Louis?”

I looked up. The man smiled at me. Lots of customers greet me outside work, but no one knows my last name. Especially a double-barrelled French name.

“Yes?” I replied, trying to remember who he was.

“Rick Berkley. I’m Lucy Berkley’s father; you used to come play at our house years ago.”

I almost fell over. Oh boy, did I remember him...

“Oh my...!” I replied, still startled. “Yes—it’s been years! How are you? How is Lucy?”

I was glad he only remembered me coming over to ‘play’ at their house, because as Lucy and I got older, we used to sneak out to smoke weed and meet boys. I hadn’t seen Lucy for at least seven years. Rick told me she was working as a lawyer in New York now. So, she had become a lawyer; she always said she wanted to be one. I had always wanted to own my own restaurant, but I hadn’t gotten there yet.

We exchanged further pleasantries as I showed Lucy’s father and his companion a table. Aside from a bit of grey on the sides and a few extra lines, Rick had barely changed since I last saw him. He still looked great. To me, he always looked like he could be part of the Kennedy family—he had the same hairline as JFK, and a stunning white smile. He’d celebrated his fortieth birthday when I was about seventeen or eighteen, so I guessed he was about forty-seven or forty-eight now. As a teenager, I always thought he was extremely handsome, though I never mentioned that to his daughter.

He introduced his companion, who barely acknowledged me. His companion looked even less interested as I told them the night’s specials. They ordered their meals, and I left them to it.

I only had forty-five minutes to go. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and get drunk by myself.

No one else came in to dine after Rick and his friend, so I sent the other wait staff home and cleared the rest of the tables myself. All the while, I kept an eye on Rick. He certainly looked dashing tonight, with a sharp black suit and white shirt without a tie. I remembered back when I used to go over to his place to see his daughter—he was so good-looking, and always friendly. Friendly in a good way to a teenage girl, never in a creepy manner. You get good at differentiating the creeps from the good ones, and Rick was definitely not a creep. To be honest, I had always fancied him.

I had been single for over a year, and apart from a very forgettable one-night stand with a customer eight months ago, I hadn’t been laid for ages. Every time I went past Rick’s table, I got a whiff of his aftershave, and it almost sent me into a trance. Last I heard, he had split from Lucy’s mom about two years ago. I hoped he would continue coming in here after tonight.

While I was taking payment from one of the last customers, I saw Rick’s companion throw his napkin on the table, then get up from his chair. He stormed past me on the way out, slamming the door as he left the restaurant. Obviously, that meal didn’t go well.

I fare-welled the customers, then wandered over to Rick’s table. He looked tired.

“Everything okay?” I asked him.

He smiled grimly at me.

“Let’s just say, you win some, you lose some,” he replied.

I knew Rick was a successful businessman who ran some sort of export business. I guessed that was a potential deal that didn’t happen.

“I really need a drink, though,” he told me. “Something strong. You choose.”

I brought him a whiskey on the rocks.

“On the house,” I told him.

“That’s awfully kind of you, but I don’t mind paying.”

“I insist,” I replied, smiling at him a bit longer than I needed to.

I was about to go back to my duties when he spoke again.

“Hey, isn’t it your birthday today? I remember you were exactly a month older than Lucy.”

I stared at him. I remembered he had quite an uncanny memory for names and dates, but I certainly never expected him to remember my birthday, especially after so many years.

“Wow,” I said. “Yes. It is.”

“Happy twenty-fifth,” he said, raising his glass. “Why are you working tonight? You should be out celebrating. Or at least dining in here instead of working, like them.”

He gestured to the table that was there for the birthday dinner. Apart from Rick, they were the last customers left. I shrugged.

“I’m not really into celebrating birthdays.”

“Well, at least allow me to buy you a drink. Will you sit down and have a drink with me?”

He looked me straight in the eye as he said it. I had no choice but to sit down. My knees had gone weak, and there was a burning sensation between my legs that I hadn’t felt for a very, very long time. I took the seat opposite him, and tried to swallow, but my mouth was full of cotton wool. This older man was so sexy it was hard to think.

“So what’s a French girl doing working in an Italian restaurant?” he asked.

Was it my imagination, or had his voice suddenly become lower, and huskier...? I managed to reply, but not in the sexy manner I attempted.

“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to swallow the cotton wool in my mouth. “I’ll be opening my own French restaurant before I’m thirty.”

“I think you will be very successful. I remember those dishes you made at my house when you cooked with Lucy from time to time, especially that salmon en croute. My, my, that was something...”

I blushed. I was glad it was dark, and that I’m black. I was really impressed by how much he remembered.

“Why aren’t you a chef?” he asked.

“I love cooking, but I hate working in kitchens,” I replied. “I cook for pleasure.”

“Well, you certainly gave us a lot of pleasure at our house,” he said slowly, smiling, swirling his drink. “With your amazing cooking skills...”

In the candle light, his face looked more handsome than ever. My heart skipped a beat as he held my gaze. I saw my boss, Marco, come out of the kitchen. Marco was the head chef, and also the owner of the restaurant. Rick waved him over. I looked at him. Why was he waving my boss over?

Marco stomped over to our table, looking pissed off, as usual. He also would have wondered why I was sitting with a customer.

“It’s this special lady’s special birthday,” Rick informed him. “Please bring us your best French champagne on ice.”

Marco looked at me.

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,” he grunted. “I would have given you the night off.”

“It’s no big deal,” I replied. I was not used to this sort of attention.

Rick turned back to me as Marco left to get the champagne. He started speaking in French. I remembered that he used to do that when I was a kid, too.

“A beautiful girl shouldn’t be alone on her birthday. And why is a girl as beautiful as you single? These young guys ’round here must be crazy.”

I felt the heat rise in my face to a new degree. I couldn’t speak French fluently—my father is French, but my mother is African-American, so we didn’t speak it in the house very often. But I understood what he’d said. How did Rick know I was single?

“Who says I’m single?”

“Otherwise you wouldn’t be working so late,” he replied, in English. “Or, if you do have a boyfriend, you should find a new one.”

I laughed awkwardly. I had never been good at flirting with men, or talking with men in general, which was probably why I was single. It probably didn’t help that I was also an only child.

“No, you’re right,” I replied, laughing awkwardly again. “There is no one waiting for me at home.”

“Unbelievable...” said Rick, looking straight at me. My breath caught in my chest.

Marco returned with the bottle. As he poured our champagne, I felt Rick’s knee brush mine under the table. The heat he had caused in my face soared throughout my body, peaking between my legs. I felt my panties start to dampen. I watched as the champagne splashed into the glasses. Where exactly was all this leading? I hoped it would go beyond a glass of champagne, but I had no idea how to lead it further. I hoped Rick was planning beyond it.

Rick and I clinked glasses, and I brought mine to my lips. I was so nervous I swallowed far more than I was supposed to, gulping in a very ungraceful manner. Thankfully, Rick didn’t appear to notice. I hadn’t eaten anything for over six hours, and it went straight to my head.

“So, where are you going after this?” I asked, eyeing him.

“Straight home to get drunk, and to try not to think about that deal that just fell through. What about you?”

“I was planning to do the same,” I replied. “Want some company?”

I was taken aback by my own brashness. Rick gave me that stunning white smile of his.

“It would be my pleasure, Natasha... When would you like to leave?”

I got another whiff of his aftershave, which engulfed my nostrils and seemed to set me on fire. I was now burning between my legs.

“How about right now?” I asked.

Again, I was shocked at my brashness. It really must have been the champagne on an empty stomach. I’d now had two and a half glasses. I noticed he hadn’t answered my question... Feeling sheepish, I raised my eyes at him over my glass. Rick smiled. Was that a yes? He downed the last of the champagne in his glass and rose to his feet. He extended his hand to me.

“Now sounds perfect, mademoiselle... Shall we proceed?”

I put my hand in his, somehow managing to stand. My knees had turned to jelly at his touch. He started to lead me to the front door. I think I saw Marco give me a wave goodbye, but it didn’t really register.

“Are you still in the same house?” I choked out.

“No, I moved out of there when I split from Lucy’s mom. I’m in an apartment across town.”

We got outside to the sidewalk.

“Let’s get a cab,” he said.

I nodded. I couldn’t believe this was happening. But I was glad he wasn’t still in that house; that would have been a bit weird going there. If I allowed myself to think about it too much, it was already weird enough that I was going home with the father of one of my high school friends.

The sexual tension between us in the cab was almost overwhelming, I wanted to ravage him right there. Instead, I sat patiently as the windows began to steam up as the cabbie tried to make small talk. I was far too distracted to answer him, so I let Rick take care of that.

After Rick paid for the cab, I followed him into the apartment block. It was one of the swankiest apartment buildings in the city. As we got into the elevator, a couple joined us carrying luggage, obviously having just returned from a trip. I pretended not to look incredulous as Rick swiped to the penthouse in the elevator, on the thirtieth floor. The views up there would be incredible. The thought of fucking him with the shining metropolis in the background turned me on so much I could barely breathe. The other couple seemed to take forever to get in and out of the elevator with their baggage. When they finally left, and the doors closed, Rick looked over at me, as though to pick back up our conversation. But my lips were already on his. His arms wrapped around my waist as he pulled me into him, his tongue meeting mine in my mouth, my hands running through his thick hair. I felt his cock swell against me. In response, my panties became damper than ever. My chest pressed against his, which was impressively hard and toned. He clearly worked out regularly. He was rock hard before the lift doors opened, and we stumbled out into the foyer of his penthouse. He managed to pull his face away from mine.

“How about another glass of champagne?” he asked, breathing heavily.

“How about later?” I mumbled, before my mouth was on his again. Right now, I wanted nothing else in my mouth but this man. Not even champagne tempted me.

His mouth dropped to my neck as we edged into the living room, our hands still everywhere. I gasped as he kissed my neck hungrily, almost biting me, my hand gripping the back of his head as I felt his hands slide down my ass and start to pull up my skirt. In my haste to leave work, I was still wearing my uniform. Luckily, it was a pretty good looking uniform—a black skirt and white shirt, tailored to my figure. When we reached the living room, I was briefly distracted as I saw the view from his floor to ceiling windows. The city did look stunning from thirty stories high. The buttons at the top of my shirt had started to come undone, and his head dropped down to my chest. He clasped my breast as it came out of my bra, and his mouth found my nipple. It swelled in his mouth, making my clit swell in my panties. He released my nipple and kissed me again, making me melt into him.

Rick led me to the master bedroom, where a huge California King bed sat waiting. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling over the bed. The city gleamed through the floor to ceiling windows that were also in the bedroom. It was like a scene from a movie. By then my skirt was around my waist, and I fell back on the side of the bed. I went to remove my underwear, but Rick was already peeling them down. I ripped my shirt and bra off, pulling my skirt up over my chest and head. I was now completely nude, and Rick dropped to his knees against the side of the bed and buried his head between my legs. I gasped as his tongue met my wet awaiting flesh. When his tongue touched my clit, I felt an electric shock go through me. It shot through my entire body, and I almost came right then. But Rick was too experienced to let that happen. He raised his head and came up to kiss me again. His lips met mine tenderly as his hands caressed my breasts, then trailed down to my waist as he kissed down my neck, down my chest, further and further down as my pussy pleaded for his mouth to return. I couldn’t help but gape at him as he raised my leg over his shoulder, and kissed down my thigh. I gasped as his mouth met my sex again, his tongue sliding all over my clit and down into my pussy. He raised his hands to my stomach, and I interlaced my fingers through his. I almost couldn’t breathe as his tongue worked my pussy; I had never received oral sex this good in my life.

I could feel myself climaxing. My entire body tensed up. My back arched, making my head fly back, and I saw the city gleaming through the windows behind me, like a beautiful photo turned upside down. Then it went blurry. Rick grasped my stomach hard, and I clasped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming as I came. My body writhed all over the bed as he held me steady with his hands still on my stomach.

When I could finally breathe again, and think straight, I relaxed and raised my head. He got up from between my legs and sat on the edge of the bed. All I could do was stare at him.

“Um, wow,” I croaked.

I had to cough to clear my throat.

“I, uh... that was actually the first time I’ve had an orgasm with someone else,” I confessed.

Rick pretended to look surprised, but I could tell he wasn’t. There was no fooling this guy.

“I am honoured,” he said as he stroked my cheek.

“It was my pleasure,” I replied, smiling.

He lay down next to me as he stroked my cheek again, and his hand met my chin. He lowered it to my neck, before reaching my right breast. His thumb circled around my nipple, making it harden immediately. He lowered his face to mine.

“You have the most beautiful breasts,” he whispered. “In fact you have the most beautiful body I have ever seen. You have always been beautiful, inside and out...”

My mouth met his again. His body pressed against mine, his cock still raging hard inside his pants. I grabbed his belt, unfastening it with a haste I didn’t know I had, and his cock came out in my hand. I ran my hand up and down his shaft, then mounted him on top of the bed, sitting over his legs, as I took him in my mouth. His cock was amazing. My mouth watered over his bulging head as I flicked my tongue all over, sliding my mouth up and down his hardness. I heard his breath start to quicken as he ran his hands through my hair, and I felt his cock get even harder between my lips. I sucked harder... I couldn’t get enough. But I wanted his cock deep inside me. I released him from my mouth and sat up. He grasped my hips as I lowered myself down onto his cock. I let out a soft moan as I felt it slide up inside me, filling me completely. He held my hips tight as I began to ride him hard, which made me pant more and more as he thrust up into me, making me rise up toward the chandelier.

“Oh my god...” I whimpered as I felt my pussy tighten around his raging cock inside me.

I could feel his body start to tense, and he held my hips tighter. I could tell he was about to come. Then my chest arched, making my head fly back again as the orgasm hit me. Rick gripped my ass as my orgasm hit me in waves, making me cry out. He let out a moan as he filled me up with his warm juices, and my pussy convulsed around his amazing cock.

After I finally calmed down, I collapsed on top of him, and he held me tight. He stroked my back as I lay my head on his firm chest. He was still wearing his white shirt, though two of the buttons were missing.

“Now, how about that glass of champagne?” he whispered, stroking my hair.

“I would love one,” I replied.

“Stay right here, I’ll get it. You can get in the bed if you like.”

As he left the room, I climbed into the bed. The sheets must have been one-thousand thread count, the pillows were silk—it was the most luxurious bed I had ever come across. I stared out into the metropolis through the windows. It had started to rain softly, and the raindrops began to drip down the glass.

Rick returned to the room with a bottle of French champagne in a bucket, and two champagne flutes.

“Happy Birthday,” he said, clinking my glass.

“Thank you,” I replied.

I sipped from the flute.

“Do you mind if I look out the window?” I asked him.

“Sure.”

Holding my champagne, I got out of bed and went over to the window. The raindrops trickled down outside as I looked at the beautiful city lit up before us.

I felt Rick behind me. He slipped his arms around my waist as he held me from behind. He was now naked as well. I rested my head back on his shoulder, and he kissed my neck.

“I have a confession to make...” I whispered.

“What must you confess?” he whispered back, kissing my ear.

“I used to dream about this when I was a young girl...”

“You’re still a young girl...” he murmured into my hair as he ran his hands through it.

“Did you ever think about me?” I asked softly.

He didn’t answer straight away. I sipped my champagne.

“It crossed my mind more than once,” he said finally. “When you turned eighteen. You suddenly went from being a little girl to a woman, and you looked incredible. But I would never, ever have tried anything back then...

“Plus, I was married,” he laughed.

“What happened?” I asked. “You seemed happy...”

“We were, in the beginning. But people change. We’re both much happier now.”

I slowly turned around. I looked up into his eyes.

“Well, you’ve made me very, very happy tonight...” I whispered.

I dropped the champagne flute on the floor as his arms wrapped around my waist again, the liquid from my glass splashing against my legs. His mouth melted into mine as he pinned me against the window. My legs parted to meet him, and his cock met my entrance, then slid up inside me. I cried out as he thrust into me, pushing me harder against the glass. He held me tight as he slammed in and out of me.

My mind swam. I felt like I was in a dream as his tongue met mine again, rolling over it in my mouth, then dropping back down to my neck. His hair brushing under my chin, and the heat from his mouth and his burning cock, flooded into me as a sharp, beautiful contrast to the cold glass against my ass as he slammed me against the window again and again.

I was starting to slip against the condensation that had seeped through from the cold outside, but Rick held me steady. I imagined myself cracking through the glass and falling to the ground below, which became such a turn on that I gripped him even harder as he kept slamming me against it.

I felt my pussy start to spasm around his cock, and my head hit the window as my second orgasm hit me. I was so sure I was going to crash through that window that I screamed out in both horror and pleasure as I almost passed out from the intensity of my orgasm. He held me tight as he climaxed as well, shuddering into me.

We held each other for a long time, neither of us wanting the moment to end. He finally relaxed, and slipped himself out of me. He kissed me on the mouth again.

“So this was a good birthday?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t have wished for a better one,” I whispered back, returning his kiss.

He led me back to the bed, and as we climbed in, he held me in his arms. I lay there, absorbing what had actually happened. I had just had sex with the father of my best friend in high school. And I wanted to keep doing it. I realised then that I had always been in love with Rick. I had wanted this to happen for as long as I could remember.

“Did you know I worked at that restaurant?” I asked him.

“No, I didn’t,” he replied. “It was my associate’s suggestion. I am very pleased at his choice...”

“I am, too...” I murmured back.

I lay my head on his chest, feeling a love for this man that I had felt for no other. But I had to be prepared that the feeling may not have been mutual.

“Rick?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“If you feel the same way, I would really like to keep seeing you after tonight...” I said.

His hands stroked my back, running through my hair. He kissed the top of my head.

“The feeling is very mutual,” he whispered. “I lost something tonight, which I thought was very important to me. But I gained something much, much more valuable...”

He kissed me deeply, and I fell asleep in his arms, drifting into the most blissful, content sleep I had ever had.

Twelve months later, we got engaged. We married last fall, and yes, it was in a registry office.

Lucy was not overly impressed when she found out I was dating her Dad, and neither were my parents when they found out the age difference. But they have all come around to the idea, and are pleased for us.

True love does not discriminate. And, as I have discovered, true love will find its way back to you.

Elizabeth’s Song

I stand out on my outdoor balcony, fifty-one stories up from the ground, brooding over the city skyline illuminated by the night sky. When I do this, I feel like an alpha female character from a comic book. One of those damaged women, whom only another damaged alpha man can kiss better.

That’s because I have become a damaged woman, whom only a damaged alpha man can kiss better. Minus the comic book. And minus the female alpha. I am no alpha, despite my stage presence suggesting otherwise.

I inhale the smoke from my cigarette, blowing it out into the cool night air. The sirens sound in the distance. The sirens never stop around here.

I turn and look at my bedroom behind me, where I have lit candles throughout the room. I smile to myself; the setting is just perfect for what will soon take place in there. The candles flicker slightly from the breeze through the open door.

The air outside is cool against my bare skin beneath the see-through negligee I wear. It is really too cold to be wearing such a garment, but I know very soon I will be warmed by the man I wait for, and the discomfort I feel right now will be worth it.

I don’t get to see him as often as I would like; such is the relationship between a human female and her vampire lover.

I tell no one of my love affair with this man. I would probably be sent straight into a straight jacket.

We met at this very spot nearly three years ago. Except that night, I was standing on the edge of the balcony, ready to end everything by stepping off to meet the ground below.

I sip my wine, so pleased that I am able to do so. Had I succeeded, I wouldn’t be standing here, waiting for the love of my life, who saved my life.

He’d been watching me for a while, he’d said. As he stalked the metropolis at night, seeking prey, he could always tell the sick ones, the ones willing to be taken. He knew what I had become, he could smell it a mile away. My misery had attracted him here.

As I had stood on the edge of this balcony, a voice behind me said my name.

“Elizabeth...”

I was so startled that I toppled from the railing, and plunged straight down toward the ground below. And landed in a pair of strong arms. I am lucky he can move at such lightning speed. At the time, I thought I had died and this was part of the afterlife. I lay almost lifeless in his arms as I felt us glide upwards and arrive back on my balcony. Then we entered my apartment, and I was gently placed on my bed.

I finally opened my eyes properly, and looked at the male figure sitting on the edge of my bed next to me.

“Who are you...?” I murmured.

“Just a friend,” was the reply.

I blinked at him. He didn’t look familiar, and I couldn’t think where I could have met him.

“You are far too young to die,” he said quietly. “You have too much life left in you, and too much talent. At least wait to join the twenty-seven club, if you want to leave early. ”

His voice was deep and velvety, and very commanding. His words seemed to wash over me in a very soothing manner, and I felt a calmness inside me I hadn’t felt for a very long time. If ever. I wanted him to keep talking, but he didn’t. At least not straight away.

I must have met him through my work. I am a musician, and—in all modesty—a very successful one. I don’t like the word ‘famous,’ but I guessed this guy must be a fan or something, and I must be so high I just imagined that he saved me from falling to my death. Then I remembered I was completely straight that night.

“I need some water,” I said hoarsely.

He handed me a glass of water. I looked at it, then back at him. The glass was from my kitchen, but how did he get it so fast? Something told me he wouldn’t tell me, even if I asked him. I eyed him as I drank it down. I could see he was very handsome. Exceptionally handsome. As he shifted slightly on the bed, the moonlight caught his face, and he was illuminated before me. His wavy, jet black hair flowed over his head; he had the sharpest hairline and widows peak I had ever seen, and a very strong nose and jaw. His grey-blue eyes seemed to shine in the dark. Very worldly eyes. Those eyes had seen a lot of things, and gave a clear message of no bullshit. He was almost too much to take in, his features so flawless he almost didn’t look real. He gave me a soft smile, which was such a contrast to his hard features, and made him so immensely more attractive that I choked on my water. I leaned over the bed as I coughed my lungs out, and I felt his hand on my back. His touch made me stop coughing immediately, because I literally couldn’t breathe. His hand ran slowly downwards, reaching the small of my back. I was wearing a white silk robe, which I thought would be the perfect outfit in which to die, and I could feel the coldness of his hands through the silk. But the coldness had the opposite effect on my skin—I had never felt so warm before. And I could feel the warmth spreading throughout my body, including between my legs. I was glad my long hair was covering my face, because I couldn’t look at him.

I felt his hand leave the small of my back, and he brushed my hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ear. He rested his hand on my shoulder. I finally found the courage to look up at him. My eyes locked with his, and he gently stroked my cheek. His eyes drew me in. I could look nowhere else, as though I was possessed by him. I felt the blood flow between my legs, creating a dull ache, which became more and more heightened the more he looked at me, the longer he touched me....

He withdrew his hand as he rose from the bed. I saw he was dressed head to toe in black, with a very classy leather trench coat. The material shone bright in the moonlight.

“I’d best be going,” he said in his smooth velvet tone.

He headed toward the door to the balcony from my bedroom, and stepped up to the edge. Just as he looked ready to jump, I finally found my voice again.

“Hey!” I spluttered. “Wait! Please, wait...”

He slowly turned around, but he didn’t step down. I wrapped my silk robe around myself and stumbled toward him.

“Please,” I said. “At least tell me your name?”

He just looked back at me for a few seconds, silently. I could feel myself getting lost in his eyes again, and becoming entranced by his beauty.

“My name is Michael.”

And with that, he was gone.

I pined for Michael for weeks afterward. Thankful that he had saved me, and resentful that he had left me. I wanted to know who he was, what he was, and, more than anything, I wanted him... Every thought I had of him caused the ache between my legs to throb more with the pain of lust. I wanted him inside me so badly. So I did the only thing I knew that could possibly get him to return: I wrote a song. It wasn’t even off an album. I went to the recording studio one night with my producer, wrote and composed the song in less than an hour, and released it that week as a single on iTunes. It went straight to number one. To date it is my biggest hit yet. Even I was surprised at its success. I guess the rawness of my words and my melody, of my craving for the man who saved me but then left me to die in his wake, resonated with many people. Because that was how it felt—like I was dying all over again. I was constantly asked who it was about, but I just brushed off the question and said it was about no one in particular. But I had no doubt that if he heard it, he would know exactly who it was about. And every night, I would drown in the sorrow of my song, hoping, wishing, that he would hear it and return to me.

Then, one night, just when I thought I could take it no more, he returned.

I was sitting back in my usual place—on my balcony, fifty-one stories up, smoking my cigarette, surrounded by candles. Once again, I was wearing my white silk robe, and I was contemplating whether I should once again rise up to the edge and just step off. Suddenly, all of the candles went out.

I looked behind me, and there he was. He was standing in my doorway, his face expressionless, as his eyes bored into my own. My hands shook as I raised my cigarette to my mouth, but I was controlled enough to not choke on the smoke as I exhaled. I blew the smoke in his direction.

“That was really impolite, to appear in my life—save my life—then disappear.”

“Manners aren’t my strength,” he replied. “I don’t see the point. Most people who meet me don’t live long enough to remember.”

He then seemed to glare at me.

“Or to write a song...” he said, almost dangerously.

I took a drag, almost defiantly.

“You don’t like my song?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes left mine, and he stared into the night. Once again, I was taken in, smitten with his beauty. The hot ache between my legs began to throb, which then turned into a dull pounding.

“It’s the most exquisitely beautiful song I have ever heard,” he said quietly. “Your voice is the most glorious thing I have ever had the honour of listening to. And I have been around for a long, long time.”

My breath caught in my throat. His approval meant more to me than anything else on earth. His eyes returned to mine, and he spoke again.

“I knew when I came across you I couldn’t take you. Not when you have such a gift.”

“What are you?” I asked him, though I almost dreaded the answer. Mostly because I already knew what it was.

“You know that already...” he said, his eyes not leaving mine.

“Don’t you want to know why?” I asked him. “Why I wanted to die?”

“You told me,” he said softly. “In your songs, Elizabeth...”

Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t look at him. Because I knew then that he knew everything. I am always careful not to give too much away in my songs, but I could tell he would have seen right through them, right into me. The public knew some of my background, but I had never disclosed everything. It was known that my mother was a drug addict; my father was a cold, calculating man who was currently in jail for fraud; and that I could never sustain a relationship with any man. But I’d never told anyone about my constant self loathing, and the constant anxiety I felt at being rejected and abandoned again. I’ve never told anyone about what my step-father did to me when I was twelve years old. And my parents doing nothing about it, even though they knew it was happening. The real reason that I have never let anyone get close to me.

I didn’t want to cry in front of him, but the tears rolled down my face anyway. I had never felt so naked and vulnerable in front of anyone before. I waited for him to leave, to be disgusted by my self-pity. Instead, I felt his hand take mine, and he made me rise to my feet. He took me in his arms, and we seemed to glide back into my room. The candles surrounding my bed were suddenly lit, and the sound of music filled the room. It was a song I had written recently, but hadn’t released yet. I didn’t ask him where he got it, or how he made it play in my room. I just let myself fall into his arms, and fall more deeply in love with him... I don’t know how long we stayed that way—it could have been five minutes, or five hours.

Then I suddenly felt claustrophobic and overwhelmed at what was happening. I tried to push him away, but it was like pushing marble. When I jumped out of his grasp, he didn’t try to stop me.

“Who are you really??” I demanded. “Why are you interested in me?”

Before he could reply, I opened my robe and let it drop to the floor. I stood before him, completely naked.

“You wanna rape me? Then just do it and get it over with,” I said tearfully.

Now he did look disgusted.

“Put your clothes back on right now,” he commanded. “And don’t you ever speak to me like that again.”

Embarrassed, I quickly put my robe back on. He put his hands in the pockets of his trench coat and walked slowly back outside, keeping his back to me. I followed him, feeling sheepish. Now that I knew he didn’t want to rape me, the burning between my legs had returned with a vengeance. Did he find me attractive? What did he want from me?

“Yes, I do find you attractive,” he said, still with his back to me. “Extremely attractive. You are as beautiful to look at as your voice is to listen to.”

I stared at the back of him incredulously.

“No, I cannot read minds,” he continued. “But when one has been around for as long as I have, it becomes very easy to read what another is feeling.”

I did not know what to say, so I continued standing behind him, staring at him.

“Do I scare you, Elizabeth?”

“Yes,” I said, truthfully.

“And yet, you wanted me to return....”

“Yes...” I replied.

“Why?”

I could not give that answer in words, so I showed him. I slowly undid the cord from my robe. As the garment slid down my naked body again, he slowly turned around. I felt a white heat engulf the room as he took in the sight of me, and my breath tightened, as did my nipples and the pounding flesh between my legs. I saw his top lip curl upwards, revealing the fangs now in his mouth. I gasped at the sight, and my arousal rose to a new degree. He was suddenly against me, his arms wrapped around me, and he had me pinned against the wall. His hand was behind me, pulling down on my hair, pulling my neck back, his mouth firmly against the vulnerable flesh, sucking the life out of me. Only I felt a completely different sensation—that life was flooding into me. My mouth fell open into a silent scream. Never had I felt more alive in my life.

His hands caressed my back through my hair, his gentle touch lowering down to my buttocks as his mouth released my neck and found my own. Our lips locked together, and I felt like I was falling, but his arms stayed firmly around me. His lips and his touch were cold, but sent a warmth charging through me that stung me in all the right places. My sex pulsed between my legs in a way I didn’t know could exist.

His lips still on mine, I felt us start to float toward the bed, and, still on top of me, he lay me down on top of the covers. I parted my legs, feeling the inside of his jacket against my knees. I could also feel his rock hard arousal against my stomach, and the blood in my veins burning and flowing between my thighs. I gasped as his mouth left mine, dropping back to my neck. I ran my hand through his beautiful black hair as his hands ran over my breasts. I could feel his fangs against my skin. I arched my back, throwing my head back, exposing my neck, willing him to bite me. But he did not. He would not.

He raised his head and looked down into my eyes. I looked up into him, almost pleading with him to bite me. I wanted him to take me, to own me.

“I will never hurt you,” he whispered.

“It won’t hurt,” I replied.

“It will not happen,” he said, lowering his head and kissing me softly on the mouth.

Then I felt it. His manhood exposed against my stomach. He raised his head and looked into my eyes as I felt him manoeuvre himself down toward my entrance. He held himself there, as though he was waiting for me to perhaps deny him. I couldn’t express my desire for him to do it. I simply stared at him as I felt my lips quiver, my breath exiting my mouth in tight, hot gasps.

I let out a cry as he pierced into me. I gaped up at him as my body accepted the hugeness and hardness of his manhood. Still staring down at me, I felt him slide his cock back, and I cried out again as he slammed back into me.

His thrusting was relentless. He held me tight as he thrashed into me and I thrashed beneath him, still under his leather trench coat, the headboard of my bed slamming against the wall as I was slammed against the bed again and again.

Suddenly, I felt a cold breeze. I opened my eyes, and saw nothing but night sky. I screamed out in terror.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, stroking my hair.

He was still with me, still inside me, as my bed floated through the night sky, high above the city below. I stared at him, and he stroked my cheek. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and continued making love to me. I had no idea what was happening, and became certain this was going to be my last night on earth. Convinced of my imminent death, I responded to his love making as though it would be the last thing I ever did. I grasped his shoulders beneath his coat, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him into me harder than ever. His lips met my neck again, and he pounded into me high in the sky, the moonlight washing over us.

The orgasm hit me unexpectedly. I felt myself go rigid. I couldn’t move as the ecstasy washed over me in a wave, then made my sex explode. I felt myself lose complete control between my legs as I convulsed all over his cock. When it was finished, I lay limp beneath him, my eyes closed.

I’m not sure if he finished the same time I did, but when I opened my eyes, he was lying next to me, and we were back in my room.

He held me for a long time, beneath his black trench coat, until I fell asleep.

When I awoke, the sunlight was streaming through the window. I let out cry of devastation, until I saw the note lying on the pillow.

See you next month.

I’ve never known why it can only be once a month, but it is what keeps me alive. This month is extra special, because I just celebrated my twenty-eighth birthday. I did not join the twenty-seven club, or leave earlier, as I had planned.

I take another sip of wine, and drag on my cigarette again, which is now almost finished.

The candles suddenly blow out. I stand completely stationary, feeling his presence behind me through the cold breeze that runs through my negligee. The soft sound of my latest album fills the air—the album that hasn’t been released yet... I still haven’t asked him how he obtains my music.

I feel him behind me. His hand brushes my hair from my shoulders, exposing my neck. I go to place my glass on the table, only to find a long stemmed red rose in my hand instead. I turn my head, and his lips meet mine. His arms wrap around me from behind as I melt into his kiss.

The candles are suddenly on fire again, brightening the room. And I am on fire.

And our heavenly monthly ritual begins once again.

Gloss

There’s something about being a dolled up, dirty housewife that turns me the fuck on. I stop to catch my appearance in the hallway mirror on the way back to the kitchen. There I am, in a red and cream ‘wiggle dress,’ my hair perfect from my visit to the salon this morning, my French manicure just as perfect. I’ve been careful not to damage my nails while cooking up a storm this morning. I want to see them run through my husband’s thick black hair as he eats me out on the kitchen bench. He isn’t home yet, but he knows what I like... And I know he wants to give it to me just as badly as I want it.

The thought of what he is going to do to me when he gets home is getting me wet just thinking about it. I am almost tempted to remove my underwear, but the delicious idea of him peeling them off makes me decide to keep them on. I’m wearing my favourite—our favourite—the black lace panties that leave little to the imagination. I pull out my red lipstick and reapply it to my plump lips, which are already twitching in anticipation, knowing I will be sucking on his nice, big cock very soon.

I check my watch. I have another hour. He’s getting home at four o’clock—just enough time to do what we want to do before our families join us for the evening. My sister-in-law has just announced her engagement, and I offered to put on a dinner. I love cooking, and I love sex. I work my ass off during the week, but on the weekend...that is my time. And I love spending it in the kitchen and in the bedroom. To me, food and sex are the best things in life, and I love doing both together.

I need to decorate my pavlova with the cream, raspberries, and blueberries I have in the refrigerator. I prepared my trifle the night before. I return to the kitchen and admire my work so far: my roast duck is still in the oven, my legendary seafood cocktail is in the fridge ready to go as entree, along with the salmon bites I have prepared for an appetiser, but I feel like I need something else. I decide to make a cheese ball to go with the crackers on arrival. I pull out the cream cheese, my secret sauces, and my main secret ingredient: brandy. As I mix it all together, I can’t help but take a few mouthfuls of the brandy. It pricks my tongue as it slides down my throat, warming me inside. I sip a bit more, and smile at the lemon meringue pie and white chocolate cheesecake resting on the bench top. My husband’s favourites. So far, this is going really well.

I finish making my cheese ball, and get started on decorating the pavlova. I mastered getting the meringue mound to perfection when I was thirteen. I have to admit, desserts are my favourite. I’m pretty sure it was the desserts I served to my husband in our early days of dating that sealed the deal for him.

The phone rings. It is my sister-in-law. By now the brandy has gone to my head a bit, and I simply um and uh at her rantings. She has a wedding to plan, and she is excited about it. It’s her second marriage, but she’s no less enthusiastic. She asks me if blue is an appropriate colour for a wedding dress, and I tell her that sounds quite alright. I’ll admit, I wasn’t too keen on my sister-in-law when we first met; she’s a real estate agent and quite over the top, but she is the only sibling to the love of my life, so I make an effort for my husband’s—her brother’s—sake.

“Is Carlos home?” she asks.

“Nope,” I mumble.

“Where is he?”

“He’s just sold our old car to some guy a few miles away,” I tell her truthfully.

I look at my watch; Carlos should be home any moment. He took a friend with him to drive him back after he handed over our old car. I just hope he doesn’t bring said friend into the house when he returns...

My sister-in-law says something more, but I don’t really hear what she says. I am too distracted by the thought of what her brother is going to do to me very, very soon—which, of course, I could never share with her.

I mumble goodbye as she says she will see us later tonight. I return to my kitchen. The delicious scent of the roast duck wafts into the air, as does the breeze from outside. It is just the end of summer, the sky is blue without a cloud, and the air is crisp. The breeze brings in the beautiful aroma of my fresh herbs growing beneath the kitchen window. I lean against the counter and breathe in all the fragrances swirling all around me. And I realise I am actually starving. I was so focussed on preparing food all morning, and getting my hair and nails done, I have completely forgotten to eat anything. I decide to slice myself a piece of lemon meringue pie. In all modesty, I have never tasted a better lemon meringue than the one I make myself. I take a sliver of the slice of pie with my cake fork and bring it to my lips, careful not to smear my lipstick. The lemon tang hits my taste buds, and the aromas from all my cooking and my garden waft through the air and into my nostrils. I swallow down the lemon meringue pie, the smack of citrus bringing my mouth to life even further. I am almost in heaven. Now I just need to taste my husband’s cock... My mouth moistens at the thought of his long, hard erection sliding in and out of me, as does my underwear... I take another bite of pie to calm my taste buds.

I quickly whip up the cream for my pavlova. I spread it over the meringue mound on the plate in front of me, knowing my favourite fantasy is soon going to come to life.

An hour passes, and Carlos still isn’t back. I am about to text him when he texts me. He says he’s been held up, five minutes away. By now, I am so wet there is no going back. I text his sister and tell her to delay arriving by an hour.

Finally, I hear a car pull up. My heart skips a beat, then thuds against my chest, matching the rhythm that is happening between my legs. I press against the counter, my clit throbbing in anticipation. To my dismay, I hear two sets of footsteps coming to the front door. My heart sinks as I can hear Carlos talking to someone else. I had really hoped he would enter here alone...

Carlos finally enters the house, followed by his friend, Lance. I lock eyes with my husband. Even after five years of being in his life, he still has the same effect on me that he did when we first met. His sharp Chilean features and beautiful dark eyes, along with his thick mane of black hair, still make me breathless. He smiles at me; he knows exactly what I’ve been thinking about, and waiting for.

“Lance just has to use the bathroom,” he tells me.

I force myself to give Lance a smile, because of course I am grateful. If it weren’t for him, I would probably have had to drive Carlos myself, fifty miles away and back again. I just hope he uses the bathroom then leaves...

I lean back against the kitchen counter and face my husband, spreading my arms against the edge as Carlos comes up to the kitchen, his eyes not leaving mine.

“So, what has been happening in here?” he asks, his voice low and husky. His accent never ceases to drive me crazy.

“A bit of whipped cream, some raspberry drizzle, and a warm piece of meat in the oven,” I answer back, my voice almost raspy. “And you’ve kept me waiting for over an hour...”

“Ah... sorry about that,” he says as he comes closer. “But the best things are worth waiting for, no?”

“Did you invite Lance inside?” I ask him.

Carlos grins naughtily, edging closer to me.

“Maybe...” he replies.

I give him a look of incredulousness, and immediately turn my back on him. I start placing the berries on my pavlova, ignoring him. His teasing by inviting his friend into the house has become cruel. I feel his hands on my hips, his breath on the back of my neck... I allow my fingers to intertwine through his as he pushes my hair over my shoulder with his chin, his lips kissing down the back of my neck, his bulging erection hard against my ass.

I hear Lance exit the bathroom and enter our living room. My eyes widen, and I attempt to move out of Carlos’s embrace, but he holds me where I am.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Lance?” Carlos calls to him.

My jaw almost drops; what the hell is he doing?

“No thanks, best I be going,” he replies. “Catch you guys later.”

“Bye,” I call out.

Before I can berate my husband, he whispers in my ear.

“And I told him one bathroom stop, then you get the fuck out of here so I can fuck my wife!”

I let out a laugh. My husband is a cheeky shit. My head drops back onto his shoulder as his mouth meets mine from behind. I melt into his mouth, his tongue searching mine as he pushes me harder against the kitchen bench, his erection even harder against my ass, eagerly wanting to be inside it. My nipples tighten when he caresses my breasts as he runs his hands all over my front, still exploring my mouth with his tongue. Instinctively, I feel my hand reach for the pavlova covered with raspberries and cream, but I don’t bother with a knife. I find my manicured hand digging into the cream and meringue mound as Carlos’s fingers start pulling up my dress and find my wet, slippery mound beneath my black lace panties.

“I’ve been thinking about you and cream all day,” Carlos whispers into my ear. “Especially creaming your ass.”

I moan as his finger meets my clit. My own fingers dig harder into the pavlova, the moist stickiness of the meringue and cream matching what’s between my legs. I begin to pant as he massages my clit, his other hand still caressing my breast. I raise my fingers out of the pav, and bring them to his lips. Carlos hungrily takes my fingers into his mouth, sucking off his favourite dessert, as he slides his hand inside the front of my dress and into my bra, my nipple aching with pleasure as he thumbs it. His tongue flicking all over my fingers makes me wetter than ever, and I let out a cry as my clit throbs against his hand in my underwear. I need to suck his cock before I come all over the place.

“My turn to taste your cream,” I say hoarsely, still panting.

Carlos removes his hand from my cunt as I drop to my knees. I look up at him with raging heat in my eyes as I unfasten his belt, and his cock springs out. I take it in my hand, rubbing down his shaft, before I bring it to my lips. I hear Carlos exhale as his entire cock slides through my lips, and I take him right to the back of my throat. I savour the taste and feel of his cock filling my mouth. It is so good, I can never get enough of it. I grasp his shaft and fist him up and down as I suck him hard, flicking my tongue all over his silky-smooth, bulging head. I taste his pre-cum, swallowing hungrily as it swirls through my mouth and drizzles down my throat. I would have been happy to suck his cock a lot longer, but I know Carlos wants to fuck me before too long. He pulls me up by the hair, his cock sliding out of my mouth. He moves me toward the edge of the counter again, then bends me over it. He pulls up my dress and starts to peel down my black panties. My heart beats faster as I feel my panties around my knees, with my dress bunched up around my waist and my ass completely exposed.

“Time to cream your ass,” Carlos tells me, giving my butt a light slap.

I look up and I find myself face to face with the pavlova, which I have partly demolished with my hand. I see his hand reach over and scoop some of it out. I let out a moan as he rubs the cream and raspberries around my butt cheeks, through my crack, and over my pussy. I feel him bend down behind me, and I let out another moan as I feel his mouth start to kiss around my ass. He massages it with his hands as he kisses it hungrily, then I feel his tongue slide into my cream covered pussy. I dig my hand into the pavlova again as his tongue flicks all over my cunt, making me squeeze the raspberries in my hand harder as he licks off all the cream, his tongue dipping inside me, driving me crazy. Then I feel his tongue slide up and dip into my ass crack, and he begins licking the cream off my asshole. I start to whimper at the sensations from his tongue creaming my ass and pussy, and I feel my cunt start to spasm, begging for his cock. Carlos can feel this, too, and I feel him stand up behind me.

“What are you?” he asks me, grasping my ass.

“Dirty,” I pant.

“How dirty?”

“Filthy!”

“You wanna get fucked?”

“So bad,” I reply, panting harder.

“How hard?”

“The hardest! I want your big, hard cock deep inside me!” I almost cry out.

I feel the head of his cock against the entrance of my pussy. My knees start to quiver.

“When?” he asks.

“Now!”

“Are you sure?” he asks as he strokes my ass again.

“Yes!”

He slams it in. My face slams straight into the pavlova. His cock fills me completely, and I moan as he slides it back out again. My makeup is completely ruined, but I don’t care. He holds my ass steady as he rams his cock back inside me, shunting me harder against the counter, making my face hit the pavlova again. I cry out with every thrust, his cock driving me insane as he pounds it into me. But I really want him to pound my ass, and Carlos knows this by the way I am pushing my ass up higher. I see his hand reach into the pavlova again and scoop up some cream. I feel him rub the cream over my asshole while he still fucks my pussy, and I can feel my ass start to relax and open up in anticipation.

“Is your ass ready to be fucked?” he asks me.

“Yes, oh yes...” I croak out.

He slips his cock out, and I feel the tip nudging against my asshole. He reaches around and his hand meets my pussy again, the tip of his finger pressing my clit. It swells against his finger as he massages it in little circular motions, making all my muscles melt, and he prods his cock forward as my ass relaxes and accepts it. I gasp as he slides it all the way up into my ass, the mixed sensations of pleasure and pain engulfing me, just the way I love it. I bend over further on the kitchen counter, sticking my ass up higher, and I gasp again as he pulls it back, the friction almost too much to bear, but the pleasure taking reign. Carlos holds my cheeks firmly apart as he rams it back in, and he fucks my ass harder and harder as I dig both hands into the pavlova, all the strawberries and raspberries turning the cream crimson as I squeeze them to mulch. Then I reach between my legs and insert two fingers inside my pussy, and I fuck myself as I feel Carlos’s huge cock deep in my ass against my fingers. I suddenly feel all my muscles tighten up—my pussy grips my fingers, my ass grips Carlos’s cock even harder, and I know I am about to explode. Carlos lets out another exhale as he feels me tighten harder around his cock, and he slams it right into me as we both come at the same time. I cry out as Carlos grabs me around the waist, my pussy convulses around my fingers, my clit throbs against my palm, and my ass shudders all around Carlos’s cock. He holds me tight as I feel him exploding deep inside me. We are both rigid for a few moments, and I am almost blinded as the orgasm hits me.

When it is over, Carlos collapses on top of me, and we both lie panting over the kitchen counter. Finally, he stands back up and slowly pulls his cock out of my ass. He does up his pants as I slowly straighten up and turn to face him, though I am still out of breath.

Carlos sees my face and starts to laugh, especially when he sees the state of the pavlova.

“I hope you aren’t going to serve that to my family...” he says, still chuckling.

“That’s why I also made the lemon meringue pie and the white chocolate cheesecake,” I reply. “I had a feeling the pavlova wasn’t going to make it to the table...!”

“I think I prefer the pavlova,” says Carlos, winking at me and stroking my face, wiping off some of the cream. “I like the way you serve it...”

“Me too,” I reply, giving him a kiss. “But I better not let your folks see me wearing it.”

He gives me another kiss as I leave the kitchen. I catch a look at myself in the hall mirror again as I head for the bathroom. I certainly look a lot different from an hour ago... After my shower, I didn’t have time to get dressed up again. But that was perfectly fine. I only dress up like that when I know I am going to cook something fabulous, then get bent over the bench and fucked in the ass. Just the way I like it.

Like a Surgeon

Being in the hospital sucks. I’ve been in and out of here my whole life with my heart condition. I was born with a hole in my heart, and had a heart attack when I was four years old. I was told I wouldn’t see thirty. I did get to thirty...and I gave the finger to my heart. I’m still here, you sucker of a ticker, I told it. Seven days later, it gave me the finger right back, and I collapsed on the ground in a shopping mall, dead.

The only reason I’m here now is because in less than a minute, a security guard at the mall grabbed the defibrillator in their first aid kit and jump started me back to life. The ambulance arrived and took me to hospital, where I was to stay for the next few weeks. When I woke up, I thought I must have died and gone to heaven; at the end of my bed was the best looking man I had ever seen.

The doctor introduced himself as Chad Carsone. He stood there telling me what had happened, and I nodded away as he detailed what he had done, that I would need another procedure in a few days to insert a permanent defibrillator or ICD (Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator) inside my chest, blah blah. I wasn’t paying much attention; his face was very distracting. My chest and rib cage really hurt. I had a peek at my chest, which was a vivid mix of black and blue. They must have really gone for it when they were trying to save me, but he said they hadn’t broken any ribs, which is common when resuscitating cardiac arrest patients. I made a mental note to return to the mall and give the security guard a bottle of wine for saving my life... What do you give someone for saving your life, anyway?

I eyed the doctor as he carried on talking. Normally, I’d have been annoyed about another upcoming operating procedure, but on this occasion I didn’t mind so much—he was one fine looking man. I then realised he’d introduced himself as “Mr.” Carsone, meaning he was a surgeon. That was odd. I’d been in hospital enough times now to know that surgeons didn’t usually interact with patients this soon; it was usually the duty doctor or registrar. And that once a doctor graduated to being a surgeon in a commonwealth country, they were no longer called doctor; they were called ‘Mister’ or ‘Miss.’ It goes back to the early eighteenth century apparently, when most surgeons were not trained physicians, but instead were generally barbers, and not as highly educated or regarded. Now of course the status has switched, but the silly snobbery has remained, with surgeons now proudly wearing their status of Mr. or Miss.

My vision was getting clearer, and I realised Mr. Carsone looked familiar. Very familiar. I knew this guy from a long time ago.

“Carsone...” I choked out.

It was always very hard to talk after a medical procedure, especially after cardiac arrest.

“Do you have a younger sister named Lauren?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he replied. “How do you know Lauren?”

“Went to school together,” I replied, still rasping. “I went to your house a few times. You were there sometimes. You were studying to be a doctor at university”

I left out the part that even at ten years old, I could appreciate a very handsome gentleman. Seeing him was the highlight of going to his sister’s house after school.

“Wow,” replied Mr. Carsone, smiling. “That was a long time ago.”

Lauren was the youngest of five children, and he was the eldest—twelve years older, if I remembered correctly—which would now make him forty-two. He looked damn good for forty-two, too, with a full head of black hair, bright blue eyes, and barely a line on his face. His belt sat tightly around his waist without a hint of a bulge, and tight pecks showed through his white shirt. He clearly worked out regularly.

“How is Lauren?” I asked. “We moved away and lost touch...no Facebook in those days.”

I laughed at my reference to Facebook, but Mr. Carsone didn’t smile.

“Lauren passed away ten years ago.”

I stared at him.

“What...?” I whispered.

Lauren was so full of life...how could she be dead?

“How?” I asked.

“Car crash,” he said sadly.

I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there looking at my hands, and then the tears started to drip down my face. Suddenly, the enormity of my own situation had hit home. Here I was, sitting here alive after basically being resurrected, and Lauren was dead. And the first thing I thought about was getting it on with the surgeon who helped bring me back to life—my dead friend’s brother. I felt sick.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” said Mr. Carsone kindly.

He handed me some tissues, but I couldn’t stop crying. I cursed myself for losing touch with my little friend, and not knowing she was dead all this time. She had written me some letters, and I had never replied. Part of my illness had made me selfish, and I didn’t bother with people as much as I should have. I guess because I always thought I was going to die soon.

“She should be here, and I shouldn’t be,” I said tearfully.

Mr. Carsone put his arm around me as I wiped my eyes.

“Please don’t think like that. She would never want you to think like that.”

He was right. Lauren was a kind child, and I could tell it was a family trait. Many doctors, especially surgeons, are arrogant pricks. But Chad was a nice guy twenty years ago, and nothing had changed.

“Remember when you took us for a ride in your new car?” I asked him, still wiping my eyes. “And it died half way down the road?”

Mr. Carsone laughed, removing his arm from around my shoulders.

“That old brown station wagon? I got it for five hundred bucks. That old junk bucket used to back fire all the time, but it was all I could afford as a medical student.”

We both laughed.

“So, what did you end up doing with your life, Nicole?” he asked.

Certainly nothing as significant as being a surgeon, and I had failed journalism at university. I was so sure I was going to die soon that I just partied hard, in case I died the next day. University was a complete blur. But even though I flunked, I still managed to get a lot of PR work in fashion, which I love.

“I work for myself,” I replied. “In fashion. I cover a lot of events, and I do some PR, mostly online. I also make jewellery that I sell online. I actually sell a lot, so it can’t be too bad.”

I grinned at him.

“I am looking for a present for my daughter’s birthday,” he said. “Could you send me a link to your website?”

“Absolutely. How many children have you got?”

“Two girls, aged twelve and ten. You got kids?”

“Nah. I almost got married, but...that didn’t happen.”

I didn’t feel like going into the fact that I had found my fiancé in bed with my best friend three years ago, and that since then I had hoped death would come sooner rather than later.

Mr. Carsone gave me an understanding smile.

“Yeah...I got married, but I’m not anymore.”

How could this guy not be married?

“What happened?” I asked.

I regretted it as soon as I said it. Like that was any of my business. To my surprise, he smiled again.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

Then I noticed his face started to darken. A lot.

“Look, I better get going,” he said. “It’s been great to see you after all these years! See you again in a few days.”

He went to leave.

“Mr. Carsone?”

He turned around.

“I remember your parents took a lot of photos, including quite a few of Lauren and I. If you know where they are, I would love to see them. Only if you have the time, of course.”

“Yeah, I should be able to dig them up. I’ll bring them to you after the ICD procedure.”

“Awesome,” I replied. “I look forward to it.”

“Nicole?”

“Yes?”

“Please, call me Chad.”

“Okay, Chad.”

Chad gave me another smile and went to leave again. But I couldn’t resist asking what had been bugging me since he first introduced himself.

“Chad?”

He turned around.

“Why is a surgeon doing duty doctor duties?” I asked politely.

“They were short staffed,” he replied.

He quickly left. I laid back and processed everything that had just happened in the last fifteen minutes. I thought I was dead; instead, I found out I was alive, my childhood friend was dead, and I was brought back to life by her good-looking brother. I had never experienced such mixed feelings in my life. Especially about how I felt between my legs. Chad’s touch had left me tingling between my thighs. I could still feel his touch on my shoulder and smell the whiff of his cologne, which had almost put me into a trance. Stop it, I told myself. He’s your surgeon, he could lose his job, and he’s your dead friend’s brother. Stop being disgusting.

But I still looked forward to seeing him again. A lot.

I was snapped out of my thoughts very quickly by a very fat nurse who suddenly appeared in my room.

“Good evening!” she chortled.

She busied around me, taking my blood pressure, injecting me with goodness knows what, and chortling away about who knows what. I wished she’d hurry up and go away.

“How do you feel knowing Mr. Carsone saw you naked?” she whispered out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

The nurse giggled.

“He can see me naked anytime,” she whispered naughtily.

I did not want to picture her naked, and I doubted Chad would either.

“Women don’t mind being in hospital so much when they meet him. I hope you remembered to shave, young lady.” The nurse laughed at her own words.

I was in disbelief at her unprofessionalism, but secretly glad I had waxed myself yesterday morning.

“Can you believe his wife left him?”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes... for a woman!”

My jaw dropped.

“You’re kidding...” I said.

“No! She’s an anaesthetist here at the hospital. Her girlfriend is a doctor here as well. After fifteen years with Chad she just up and left. He usually works during the day, but he’s now helping out as duty doctor at night so he doesn’t have to run into her or the doctor who took his wife.”

She gave me a knowing look, looking pleased with herself for knowing and sharing this information. I still couldn’t believe her unprofessionalism, and I wondered how she kept her job. Yet I certainly wasn’t about to make a complaint.

The nurse finally scurried away. I was very pleased she got assigned to me. My head was spinning. What a strange day this had been.

* * * *

After I woke from my ICD procedure, Chad came to see me and brought the photos with him. It was a good distraction, because I did not like the ICD. Due to my condition, I am very thin, so it poked out above my left breast like I was some sort of windup toy. It looked and felt awful. I probably couldn’t wear singlets from now on. But seeing the happy images of myself and his little sister was quite emotional, and before I knew it I was in tears again, and he had to console me. He also brought me some iced tea, and took me for a walk in the park outside the hospital when his shift was finished. I told him about my fiancé, but he didn’t tell me about his wife. I could tell he was still in pain. But he came to see me regularly—even when he wasn’t required at work, I noted.

When he was gone, I was hot between my thighs. I would often request all the curtains be drawn, and I would lower my hand under the blanket and think about him. I knew he had noticed me, though only once was it obvious, when I had been feeding some ducks in the park outside the hospital. He had looked away when I caught him checking me out. He knew I had caught him, and his face blushed. Suddenly, he needed to go back to work. When he took my arm to lead me back, neither of us said anything until we were back at the ward. There was something happening between us, and it was getting stronger every day.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My long hair needed a bit of a trim, and some of the dark re-growth was coming through underneath the deep red which I colour it, but in all modesty I wasn’t too bad to look at, even after being dead. I was annoyed, though, that I couldn’t put on mascara to at least enhance my green eyes, because I didn’t tell anyone I was here except my sister, and when my sister visited me she always forgot to bring anything I requested. Yet Chad remained largely impartial to my presence. He truly is one of the decent ones, I told myself. Or perhaps he’s gay, too, I laughed to myself. He’s my surgeon, I reminded myself again. He could get in serious trouble. I’m just desperate... I haven’t been banged for three years, and I’ve been too scared to get near anyone. I’m still hurting, I told myself. That’s why I was lusting after this man—because he would never get close enough to hurt me.

When we were sitting in the park again, he finally told me about his wife.

“Did she always like women?” I asked.

“Yeah, she was bisexual. But that’s not why she left me,” he replied.

I decided to pry a little further.

“Why did she leave...?” I asked him.

“Because I neglected her,” he said. “I was consumed with my work. I was so consumed with everything I wanted to do, I didn’t see it coming...”

He swallowed hard. I reached over and touched his shoulder, and he turned his head and his eyes met mine. My touch was just meant to be reassuring, but it caused an electric shock to go through me. My mouth went dry as my heart went into a spasm. I thought I was going to have another heart attack right there. He quickly stood up. He was suddenly needed at work again.

The final night before I got discharged, he helped me get into bed. The hospital had been having a slow week, and I was the only one in the room. He drew the curtains around my bed. The room was now quite dark, brightened only by the light in the corridor. I waited to see if he would turn the light on. He did.

Suddenly I was pissed off. I was pissed off at his wife for leaving him, for hurting him. I was pissed off that the light was on. I was pissed off at him, for his false indifference toward the attraction between us. And I was likely pissed off that I hadn’t been laid for three years.

So I reached over and flicked the light back off. He looked at me, and I stared straight back at him, my hand still on the switch. Looking into his eyes caused the blood in my veins to turn into a white heat that surged through me, and this time, I knew he couldn’t deny he felt it too. I could barely breathe.

“Chad...” I whispered huskily. “Tell me, how could your wife even want someone else when she was married to you...?”

His face darkened, his jaw clenched. He could no longer hide it. He looked me over, the lust filling his eyes, the rage from the hurt of his wife leaving... Then the hurt suddenly disappeared and was replaced only by a raging anger. I froze. He was going to hit me.

“You tell me,” he snarled.

But he didn’t hit me. Instead, he turned to leave. I raised my hand and met his cheek. He stared at me as I stroked his face, running my fingers over his cheekbone, down to his jaw, toward his chin.

“You are amazing...” I breathed.

As he went to push my hand away, his fingers met my wrist and closed over it. His eyes bored into mine as his fingers ran down my arm, reaching my elbow, causing the blood between my legs to pound harder than ever. He paused, still looking into my eyes, breathing hard. Then he pulled me up into him, and we were engulfed in a white heat as his mouth covered mine and he pulled my legs around him. I felt the huge bulge in his pants against me, his mouth still on mine as he ran his determined yet very gentle hands down my back, then over my chest, my nipples hardening through the hospital gown, even when his fingers brushed over my ICD. I gasped as he dropped his mouth to my neck, almost biting me as he ran his mouth under my jaw. The skin between my thighs was now on fire. As he continued kissing my neck, his hard, ripped muscles flexed under my palms as I ran my hands over his shoulders and up his neck, then all through his hair. He had the most beautiful, thick hair I had ever felt. He untied my hospital gown and let it drop aside. I sat on the bed topless, wearing nothing but my g-string. He lightly ran his fingers down the sewn-up wound on my chest, the wound he had put there with his scalpel.

“Does it hurt?” he whispered.

“Not anymore,” I whispered back, which was the truth.

He ran his lips over my wound.

“Oh my god....” I moaned softly as his mouth moved over to my breast, taking my nipple between his lips.

I was now overcome with a blood lust. I was still weak from the surgery, but when I reached down and ripped his shirt open, the top button hit the floor. I felt the stethoscope around his neck. He pulled me toward him again in another kiss, the stethoscope cold against my skin. It reminded me of what we are doing. No surgeon wears a stethoscope. After care isn’t their concern. Except one like Chad. How wrong was this? He was my dead friend’s brother, my surgeon, an upstanding citizen, the most decent man you could ever meet, and I had just seduced him. He could lose his job because of me. But we went back twenty years...surely that makes a difference between doctor and patient? And what about the hurt—his hurt, my hurt. Is there anything that can make it go away? Three years of pain is a long time... Pain from your wife leaving you must be excruciating... What if my ICD was faulty, and I had a heart attack tomorrow and died permanently? The thought made me wrap my arms harder around his neck, and he kissed me deeper, his tongue rolling over mine in my mouth. I melted into him.

All the curtains were drawn. No one could see us. His hands ran down my back again until they reached my ass, and he peeled down my g-string. I felt it slip down my thighs, past my knees and ankles as it fell on the floor. He put his hand between my legs, covering my now very wet pussy, rubbing my clit with his finger in circular motions, making me gasp into his hard, muscular chest as waves of pleasure washed over me. He slid two of his fingers inside me, making me gasp harder into his chest as he caught my g-spot and fucked me with one hand, his other hand stroking the back of my head. I could feel his hard breathing against my hair. Then he removed his hands and softly pushed me down onto the bed, my legs hanging over the side. He ran his hands over my breasts again as he kissed down my stomach. As his mouth moved down my body, I raised my knees and parted my legs further, and he buried his face between my thighs. I let out a quiet moan as his tongue met the wet flesh there, which was now pulsating. His hands reached around to stroke my stomach, stretching my pussy up, and my knees began to quiver as my clit swelled in his mouth. I had never experienced such pleasure in my life. I covered his hands with my mine and clutched them hard as his tongue kept working me. Our fingers interlaced as his head moved between my legs, his tongue whirling around my pink folds, making me go into a state of ecstasy. I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming out as he kept flicking his tongue over and around my clit.

I could feel myself starting to hit climax. I was going to explode. I reached down and stroked his beautiful black hair.

“Chad....” I gasped.

He looked up at me from between my legs. I sat up panting, still running my hands through his hair, then I lifted his face under his chin.

“Allow me,” I breathed.

He straightened up, and I hooked my fingers into his belt and pulled him forward. I felt his big bulge against my hands as I undid his belt. His huge cock popped out as I opened his pants. As I took it in my hand, he grabbed my face and kissed me again. Normally I didn’t like being kissed by a man after he’d just had his mouth between my legs, but everything with this man felt perfect. His cock pulsated in my hand as he searched my mouth with his tongue. I pulled away and dropped my face down to his neck, kissing under his jaw, and he moaned softly as I sucked around his Adam’s apple. I released his neck and got off the bed, raising my mouth to his ear.

“Sit back,” I said softly.

He leaned against the bed, and I dropped to my knees and faced his crotch. His cock got even harder in my hand as I held him steady at the base, then I gently took him into my mouth. I hadn’t had a man’s cock in my mouth for three years, but this was worth the wait. His cock was amazing. I ran my tongue all over his swollen head, then took him all in, right down to the back of my throat. He moaned and pulsed in my mouth as I kept taking him in, flicking my tongue over and around his head. He ran his hand over my hair and released it from my hair tie. I felt it spill out all over my back. He ran his fingers all through my red tresses.

“You are incredible,” he breathed.

Then he grabbed my hair and pulled me up. His beautiful blue eyes boring into mine turned me on so much I couldn’t speak. But we both knew what we were going to do next. He took my shoulders and turned me around so he was now behind me, then gently pushed me over the bed. I grasped the edge of the bed, and then I felt it—his cock entering me from behind. He filled me entirely, and then some, stretching me out. For a moment I was sure I felt my heart stop.

Chad held my ass down as he started to thrust into me. He drew his hips back, sliding his cock back out, and it made me move up with him, my pelvis raising my ass toward the ceiling. I gasped at the sensation as I came back down with him as he slammed back into me, then out and up again, back in, then out and up again, again and again. The rhythm got faster and harder, harder and faster. We started to get louder with our soft moans, but neither of us cared. My pussy swallowed Chad’s cock deep down inside me and gripped around it as it slid back out. He put a hand on my shoulder as I started to spasm. I grabbed his hand and buried my mouth into it; otherwise, I was going to scream. My heart was thumping in my chest, pushing at my stitches. My surgeon was going to give my heart he’d just repaired a heart attack with his cock, but at least I would die happy.

With his other hand, he gently pushed down on the small of my back as he exploded inside me, making me come two seconds later. My pussy convulsed around his shuddering cock, his balls convulsing against the back of my thighs. We both stayed still for a few seconds, my body still tremoring from the incredible orgasm he had just given me. He finally pulled out and collapsed next to me on the bed. I turned my head and faced him, and he pulled me into his arms. I could’ve laid there forever. I couldn’t believe how this man had brought me back to life...in many more ways than one.

“Mr. Carsone, doctor, Sir....” I said, still out of breath.

“Yes, my lady...?” he replied.

“I need another appointment with you.”

“How about dinner on Sunday night?”

“I might need another examination as well.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Perfect.”

Chad kissed me on the lips. I think I may have died and gone to heaven after all.

Medusa

There is a painting of me that hangs on the wall of our bedroom, overlooking the bed. It is of me portrayed as Medusa.

It’s funny, because from all accounts, Medusa is meant to be ugly. There aren’t many people I show it to, and the few people who get to see it do a double take, and look back at me, because I don’t quite look like that to the naked eye...

“You are so beautiful...” they breathe every time, without fail.

I just smile and change the subject. Sometimes I am forced to tell the story of how the painting came to be, or at least some of it, because I never reveal all of it. It is too personal.

Of course, they know it was my boyfriend who did this illustrious painting.

I met him when I was minding a mutual friend’s beach house. His signature is on the painting, but it is not recognisable like it should be. He is a painter from London, and this was done for me in the most beautiful, seductive, and intimate manner imaginable.

Jamie is renowned for his brilliant paintings of celebrities, often of an erotic nature. When we met, he was married to a famous Hollywood actress. Their tumultuous relationship was always in the news, so when I met him accidentally at the bottom of the garden, I knew exactly who he was.

Yes, at the bottom of the garden was how we met. I will explain. I had recently been fired from my job as a journalist at a prominent magazine. It was an extremely unfair dismissal, because I had done nothing wrong. It was simply a personality clash between the new editor and I, so when he saw an opportunity to get rid of me, he took it. One day, I will pay him back.

In the meantime, I took a friend’s offer to have some alone time at their beach house in Cape Cod.

I spent the first two weeks just sleeping, reading, and drinking. Mostly drinking. Something I had been doing a lot, for a very long time. Even when I was working.

My friend’s beach house had a beautiful garden at the back that led down to the sea. Twice a week, professional gardeners would come by to groom the flowerbeds, trim the trees, and cut the grass.

On the days they weren’t there, I would lie on the grass, sunning myself and drowning myself in alcohol. I really didn’t want to leave. This was a beautiful house, and I wasn’t looking forward to returning to my tiny, scrummy apartment in New York, which I would have to do eventually.

By eleven o’clock one morning, I was already starting on some gin straight from the bottle when I heard a voice.

“Hey there.”

I turned to look behind me.

It’s funny when you have seen someone for so long in magazines and on TV, and then you meet them in person. They often don’t seem real. But I could see he was very real. And he was far better in the flesh. He was the sexiest man I had ever seen. He stood leaning against the fence. He had flowing dark brown hair, verging on black, which reached past his shoulders. He wore skinny black jeans and a matching shirt, held together with a black leather belt with a prominent shiny silver buckle. The shirt was rather ruffled, with the first three buttons lying open, revealing an impressive looking tanned chest. He raised an eyebrow at me. I realised I had been staring at him for a while, and I still hadn’t greeted him.

“Uh, hi...” I replied, still a bit stunned.

I wasn’t expecting to see anyone here, especially in the garden. I was immediately self-conscious that he was seeing me in my nightdress, and that I’d not had a shower yet, or brushed my teeth. Thankfully, it was my mini black silk nightdress, which didn’t look too bad. I hoped I didn’t smell.

He wasn’t standing that close, yet I could still smell the alcohol emanating from him, along with very expensive cologne. But he had a sexiness about him, a charisma which was rare to encounter. I have to admit, I was really turned on.

He continued standing against the fence, looking at me. I raised my eyebrow at him.

“I noticed you come down here regularly,” he said in his sexy British accent. “I was wondering if you might spare some of that? I can pay you for it.”

He raised an empty tumbler glass, which up until then I hadn’t noticed. It took me a moment to get my thoughts together. Oh. So he wasn’t here to see me. Of course he wasn’t. I suddenly felt annoyed.

“Why don’t you get your own?” I snapped.

“Because I don’t drink and drive,” he replied.

So he was obviously drunk, too.

“Not my problem,” I said.

I raised the bottle of gin to my lips and took a swig, then turned my back. He probably thought I was a real pig drinking straight from the bottle, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to share my booze with anyone. I knew exactly who he was, too—my friends had mentioned he owned the place next door. I still didn’t care.

I expected him to leave. Instead, I heard him come forward. He crouched down beside me and sat down on the grass. He extended his hand as he said his name.

“I don’t care what your name is,” I retorted. “I’m not telling you what mine is. Leave me alone.”

“Well, I actually already know your name,” he said. “Simone. Nice to meet you, Simone”

I turned to look at him.

“How do you know my name?” I asked.

“I read your magazine. Sometimes your photo is next to your articles.”

There was a pregnant pause before he continued.

“They’re great articles. I really enjoy your writing.”

He obviously didn’t know I’d been fired. And I didn’t want to get into that.

“Good for you,” I said. “Glad to hear you can read.”

“Now why you gotta talk like that?” he asked. “I’m not being rude, but you certainly are.”

Not even I could believe how rude I was being. I also couldn’t believe he was staying. He must have really wanted that gin.

I finally relented somewhat. I lifted the bottle and poured some into his glass.

“I have lemonade in the refrigerator if you want to mix it,” I told him.

“This is just fine,” he replied, taking a swig.

We sat in silence for what felt like a very long time. Only the sound of the cicadas chirping, the breaking of the waves in the distance, and the rustling of the leaves in the trees could be heard. It was big news that he and his wife had separated recently. Again. I wasn’t sure if I should mention it, but I decided I would.

“I am really sorry to hear about you and your wife,” I told him.

Jamie shrugged.

“I think it’s for the best. She said it’s over for real this time, so I am adjusting. Its better it happens now, before I become a tired old man.”

I knew he was forty-three, and he looked far from an old man. He was ten years older than me, and looked no older than I was. As far as I was concerned, he and his wife would be getting back together. Even out of show business, I have seen these types of relationships all around me. They are addicted to each other, and they always go back. But I didn’t tell him these thoughts.

He was sitting close, but not close enough to touch me. As he moved, his arm almost brushed mine. I felt a twitch between my legs just at the mere thought of his touch. I looked out into the ocean, which was looking hazy already from the gin I had consumed before he arrived. I was almost glad I was drunk—I’m not sure I could have handled being in this sexy man’s presence if I was sober. Not when I was feeling such a lust toward him.

“Well, I think we can both guess why I’m here getting drunk during the day,” he began. “What’s your story?”

I took another sip from my bottle.

“I have no story,” I replied.

He chuckled.

“Aren’t you a writer?”

“Exactly. I got fired.”

“So get a new job.”

“I will. But I need some time out first. I got a large sum to leave, and I don’t want to work for a little while.”

He reached over and put his hand on my gin bottle.

“This is not the answer,” he told me, gently taking it out of my hands.

His hand almost touched mine as he did it, but not quite. My breath caught in my throat at the nearness, and the twitch between my legs turned into a throb. Jamie poured some liquid into his now-empty tumbler glass. He had some gall to judge me about drinking...

“Yes, I know, I’m the last person you should listen to, but you know I’m right,” he said, taking a sip. “Find another job and start working again. Don’t get mad, get even.”

I said nothing.

“You aren’t here just because of your job loss, are you?” he asked me. “What else happened?”

I guess it takes one to know one.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I replied.

“What was his name?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” I snapped.

I was now really drunk.

“Okay,” he said, putting up his hand. “Sorry.”

I suppose anyone who followed my articles would have noticed I started using a different surname last year. Obviously, Jamie had guessed correctly that it wasn’t because I got married. It was over a year ago, and it still felt weird using my maiden name again. I’d been using my ex-husband’s surname for nearly ten years.

“I better be going,” he said. “It was nice to meet you.”

As he got up from the grass, his arm finally brushed mine. Again, my breath caught in my throat, and the throb between my legs returned tenfold. I wanted to say goodbye, but I literally could not get any sound out.

As he was walking away, I finally found my voice.

“Hey!” I called.

He turned. I tried my best to smile.

“Uh, if you want to join me tomorrow, I’ll be here. Same time, same place.”

“Yes, I got the impression you’re here most of the time,” he replied.

I smiled my drunken smile and shrugged.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, slowly nodding at me. He held my gaze before finally leaving.

I returned to looking at the sea, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves and the throbbing that continued between my legs. I didn’t mean to be so rude to him, but I didn’t want to discuss my firing, or the end of my marriage, with anyone right now. Certainly not someone I hadn’t met before. Because it still hurt like hell. Because, unlike his marriage, which seemed to be hell, there seemed to be no reason for my marriage ending. It just wasn’t happening anymore. I’d heard about the raging public arguments Jamie had had with his wife, and that infamous sex tape that had been released, which I had actually seen. And I almost felt envious of them. Almost. Because arguing is still communicating. Because they were still having sex. My ex-husband and I never argued. By the time we finished, we hadn’t had sex for nearly two years. I can’t say what happened, because that was why we finished. Because nothing happened.

I hadn’t been much interested in Jamie’s infamous sex tape; someone had shown it to me on a phone at a party years ago. The video was mostly dark, but the viewer got the gist of it. He had a very large cock, and his wife certainly knew how to give a good blowjob.

It felt strange having met this man when I knew what his cock looked like. And how big it was. I remembered the way his wife sucked his cock, sucking it hard like she couldn’t get enough of it, and I could tell she wasn’t acting. I had sucked my husband off like that in the beginning, but until this chance meeting this morning, I hadn’t thought about sucking anyone’s cock for a very long time. I had almost forgotten what sex was like.

But something had been awakened. I put my hand between my legs and felt the dampness of my panties. I thought of the man next door, and that huge cock of his, and the moisture increased on my hand. I went back into the house and took a cold shower.

The next morning, I ensured I had another cold shower before I headed back to the garden at eleven o’ clock.

I smelt him before I saw him. The familiar smell of cologne, the same as the day before.

As he took his place next to me, I turned and smiled at him, feeling a much better sense of confidence knowing I had shampooed my hair and shaved my legs. He’d already seen me in my night time wear, so this time I made sure I was wearing a sexier night dress than the one yesterday. I was also wearing no underwear.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Better than yesterday,” I replied.

“Why is that?”

“You were right about me,” I said. “I do need to start working again soon.”

He smiled as I eyed the bottle of gin in his hand. He had obviously gone out and bought a whole new bottle to replace the small amount I had given him yesterday.

“Just not today,” I said, taking the bottle from his hand.

“But today you’re going to drink from a glass,” he told me, showing me two tumbler glasses.

I grinned and poured us both a drink. He raised his glass.

“To us,” he said. “To...whatever we are.”

We both laughed, and his arm brushed mine as the glass met my lips. I was so turned on that I almost choked on the liquid as it burned down my throat.

So far, I had received no indication that he was interested in me. But I had thought out my plan the night before. I had planned to get us both in the mood, and I was going to try my luck right here in the garden. There was no one around. No one would see us. If he wasn’t interested, well, that was fine as well. I was used to being here by myself for long enough now.

But my plan was instantly thwarted.

“I was wondering if you would do me a favour,” he said.

“Uh, it depends what it is...” I replied.

“The moment I saw you, I wanted to paint you. Would you allow me to paint you?”

I was stunned. I hadn’t seen that coming. I had seen his work, which was incredible. I was so flattered, I didn’t know what to say.

“Uh.... I guess...” I finally said.

“I would like to paint you as Medusa.”

“Medusa??” I spluttered.

Any sexual tension I had been feeling instantly evaporated. The thought of that ugly, slimy character was a right fantasy killer. Now I really didn’t know what to say. I felt too insulted. Jamie chuckled.

“Believe me, when you see it, you’ll feel a little differently,” he said.

He touched my arm and looked deep into my eyes.

“Will you come with me, right now? Before we get too drunk.”

His touch, and his gaze, was so powerful it had put me into a trance. Speechless, I rose from the grass and allowed him to lead me over to his beach house on the next property.

His art space was on the ground floor. It was like any artist’s space, cluttered with paints and canvas all over the place.

“Will you sit on that stool?” he asked.

I did as I was told, and he took a seat behind a ready waiting canvas. I don’t know if it was the alcohol I had consumed that morning, but I was able to contently sit on that stool for several hours. I asked a few times if I could see how he was progressing, but he refused. He was mostly hidden behind what he was doing, but every so often, he would look out and peer at me. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down my spine. So I sat in that chair, thinking bad thoughts about the artist, while he continued painting. I only got up once, for a glass of water and a restroom break. I’ll admit, some of my attraction toward him had waned. I simply couldn’t get my head around why he wanted to paint me as ugly old Medusa...

When he finally said he was finished, it was almost dark. He spun the canvas around so I could see it. I stared at what he had done. I could tell it was me in the painting, but even I was struck by my own beauty. The red and green snakes flowing from my head crowned my face. I was naked from the waist up, one hand raised to cover my breasts, the other raised to stroke the head of one of the snakes.

“Oh my god...” I breathed.

It was the most sensual, erotic picture I had ever seen. And the face was mine...

He picked it up.

“Here, it is for you to take home. Do with it whatever you want,” he said.

I was still speechless.

“How did you make me so beautiful?” I whispered.

“It wasn’t hard...” he whispered back.

I looked up at him, his face more handsome than ever in the soft evening light. I reached out to take the painting, and my hand touched his. Before I could take hold of the canvas, I felt his fingers against mine. Our fingers interlaced, and the painting slipped to the floor. He pulled me toward him, and my mouth met his. His tongue melted into my mouth as his arms wrapped around my body. His hands caressed down my back, slowly reaching my ass. I felt his hard cock against my stomach. I went to undo his belt buckle, but before I could, he swept me up in his strong arms.

“Do you want to see my bedroom?” he asked me huskily.

“Absolutely...” I replied, just as huskily.

Still kissing me, he carried me out of the art room and up the stairs. We reached the bedroom, and he lay me down on the bed. I pulled him on top of me. We made out for a while as I savoured the feeling of being in the arms of a man who wanted me, desired me. A feeling I hadn’t felt in years.

He peeled down my black nightdress, watching my breasts spill out as it came down. He lowered his head and his mouth met my nipple, his hand caressing my other breast as he sucked hard. I ran my fingers through his beautiful hair as his mouth released my nipple, leaving it erect and shining in his saliva, and he moved toward my other breast. My hands moved down to his muscular back, and his mouth left my breast and started kissing down my chest. He raised my nightdress and started kissing down my stomach, going lower and lower. I gasped as his mouth met the wet, awaiting flesh between my legs, which had been throbbing for him since we met. I raised one of my legs over his back as he licked my pussy with soft, long strokes, pressing against my clit, before sliding down again and flicking inside me. I moaned and writhed on the bed as he continued, making his strokes and licks a little faster, driving me insane with ecstasy. Just as I thought I was going to explode in his mouth, he raised his head and kneeled between my legs. He started to take his shirt off as I grabbed his belt buckle. I undid his belt and opened his pants, and his cock came out. It was even bigger than it had appeared in the video. I took it in my hand and stroked him down, but before I could do it for long, he pressed down, and I felt it at my opening. I almost cried out as his cock pierced into me, but the pain immediately turned to pleasure as my pussy accepted the hugeness of his cock.

I parted my legs as far as I could as he lay down on top of me again, his mouth meeting mine. He held me tight as he began to thrust into me. I cried out at the first thrust, and even louder at the second. I had never felt a cock this good. I continued to cry out in pleasure as he slammed into me, again and again. I felt him tense up at the same time I did, and we grasped each other as we both climaxed. I threw my head back hard into the pillows as his cock slid into me at the end, before he came inside me, filling me with his juices as my pussy convulsed all around it and I writhed beneath him.

We lay in each other’s arms for a long time. He finally pulled himself out and collapsed on the bed beside me.

He reached over and stroked my face.

“We need to end our addictions,” he said quietly.

“I know,” I replied.

“I’m not going back,” he said.

“Me neither.”

“No, I mean I’m not going back to my wife,” he said.

I almost snorted.

“I’ve filed for divorce. I’ve been following you in the magazine for a long time. I love your work. I want to get to know you a lot better, Simone.”

I remained silent.

“Is this the first night you’ve been sober since...how long? It’s the same for me,” he said. “Let’s start again. Sober. Together.”

I finally turned to him. We looked into each other’s eyes, and he stroked my face again.

“Deal,” I whispered.

He held me close as we kissed again. And I realised, for the first time in a very long time, I had everything I needed. Without one drop of alcohol.

Mrs. Peppermint Tea

We have a huge hedge maze at the back of our estate. It was one of the features that attracted us to the place, though for me it was actually the incredible indoor pool complete with a bar and movie screen. But Selena has always dreamed of having a hedge maze. Selena saw the hedge, I saw the pool, and it was a done deal.

The maze is similar to the one in The Shining: thirteen-foot-high hedges, perfect for hide and go seek, minus axes and Jack Nicholson. Thankfully, when we found the place, we had both just come into a large amount of money. I had just signed on for another three years with my football team, and Selena had just signed on for the third series of her very successful TV show.

I often smirk to myself when our friends come over and get so excited at the pool and the hedge maze. If they knew what we did in there, I don’t know if they’d be so keen to dive inside them...

My wife is the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. She’s British, and is the epitome of an English Rose. Long, flowing black hair, ivory skin, and bright green eyes. Impeccable dress sense, and impeccable manners. She’s also the dirtiest woman I’ve ever met. You would never guess it by looking at her, but that’s what is so sexy about her. I was very sexually experienced when I met her six years ago—well, at least I thought I was... I was twenty-seven; she was a year older. We had been dating for six months, and our sex life was incredible—I don’t think there was a sex position we hadn’t tried. But we hadn’t tried one of my favourite indulgences... I decided it was time to ask if we could try anal. She had never given anything away about whether she was into it or not, and I had no idea how she would respond. I’ve had women in the past almost spit on me for suggesting it, and others who were keen only after they were asked.

To my delight, Selena was deadly keen for it...but I had no idea what she would suggest in return. I remain a bit shocked to this day. It is not something she does often, and it not something I would ever request, or even talk about. I do not speak of this with the boys at the club.

I always know when she wants to do it. She requests I bring her a cup of peppermint tea. It is part of her ritual, and almost as though she is testing my reaction, waiting for me to decline. But I have never declined. I would just never openly admit that I enjoy it.

After showering at the gym after training, I get a text from her. She asks what I am up to. I tell her I’ve just come out of the shower. When I’ve finished dressing, I get the second text. She wants a cup of peppermint tea. I feel my dick immediately twitch in my jeans, and my breathing gets quicker. I put the phone in my pocket, say goodbye to the boys, and get in my truck.

On the way home, my dick swells in my pants, knowing what I am coming home to. I will wait until I am in the driveway before I ask her where she is. It could be anywhere. She sometimes likes to wait for me in the middle of the maze, making me find her. Other times, she is by the pool, where she orders me into the water before she has her way with me. Or she could be curled up in bed, lying amongst the luxurious pillows and bedding.

I imagine what she is wearing. She’s always wearing one of her amazing negligees, usually black, which beautifully magnifies her ivory skin with the contrast. My heart begins to thud in anticipation...and discomfort. Even after six years, I am not fully used to this.

She must have heard my truck pull up, because she texts that she is in the maze.

I dutifully go into the house and prepare her peppermint tea, complete with cup and saucer. I also remove my shirt. Selena seems to enjoy the sight of me shirtless. But I leave the pants. She likes to remove those herself.

I smell her perfume as soon as I enter the maze, which causes my swollen erection to swell even larger. I follow her scent, though I have been through here so many times now that I could probably find her with my eyes closed. I briefly close my eyes, imagining my dick sliding in and out of her luscious mouth, and knowing I will be fucking her there very soon. But I have to let her have her way with me first.

When I see her, I literally come to a standstill. She lies on the lounger, with her nose in a book, in her secret corner in the middle of the maze. She’s wearing my favourite black negligee, her white skin gleaming in the sun, her flowing black hair shining in the light. She lowers her sunglasses when she sees me, revealing her stunning emerald eyes. And she smiles that naughty white smile that never fails to send my brain into a scramble of arousal. Selena is truly one of the most beautiful women in the world. She regularly rates at the top of all hottest actress lists, she is the fantasy of millions of men (and some women), and here she is waiting for me. Her smile widens when she sees the bulge in my pants.

She places her book on the table and eyes me, standing a few feet away, holding her cup of peppermint tea, with a very obvious erection.

“Come here,” she breathes.

I do as she commands. She looks up at me over her dark sunglasses as she takes the cup and saucer, with that naughty glint in her eye that I have come to know so well and love so much.

“How’s your morning been, baby?’ I ask her in a hoarse voice. My mouth has become dry in anticipation.

She lies back in the lounger as she sips her tea.

“So very relaxing,” she finally answers.

I go to lean against the hedge when I feel her take my hand. I look down at her, and see she has removed her glasses.

“Come here...” she tells me again.

I step forward, and she hooks her fingers in my belt. I can only gape down at her as she looks up at me while she opens my pants and my dick comes out in front of her face. I let out a moan as she starts stroking me down, still looking up at me with her slight but naughty smile and the glint in her eyes. I know what she’s about to ask me. It doesn’t take long.

“Turn around,” she whispers.

I feel myself tense up, like I do every time she says this, but I do as I’m told. I grasp hold of the edge of the garden table as I feel her pull my pants down lower. I bend forward slightly as I feel my ass exposed to the sun and crisp spring air. And I feel her hands part my cheeks, exposing my vulnerability. I take a short breath of air as her tongue sinks between my cheeks, causing my eyes to clasp shut, and my knuckles turn white as I clench the edge of the table. My dick goes into a mind of its own as it responds to the waves of pleasure washing over me at the soft flicks my wife unleashes all over my tight asshole. What she is doing makes my dick so hard it takes all my might not to grab it and stroke myself off, but I am under strict instructions not to touch it; Selena likes to do that herself. The sensation from the peppermint tea on her tongue heightens the hot friction as she continues to French kiss my ass. I take one hand and reach behind me, burying my hand in her beautiful hair, as she continues to drive me wild. My hand on her head seems to excite her more; she spreads my cheeks apart even further, adding more pressure with her tongue, her hands on my cheeks pushing me forward, making me bend right over the table. Her thumb slips down below her mouth, and I let out a gasp as she adds pressure to my perineum, her thumb gently moving in small circular motions. I hold myself up by my elbow as I bury my face into my hand, cringing in pleasure, my other hand still buried in her hair, her face still buried in my ass, as she fucks my ass with her tongue. Just when I think I’m gonna have to grab my dick and take care of myself, she finally reaches around takes it for herself. Her tongue continues working my ass as she rubs down my throbbing dick, my g-spot pulsing against her thumb, which she has now started moving anticlockwise.

My dick starts to leak. Selena can feel it on her hand, which is still fisted around it. Just as I think I am about to explode, she releases my ass from her mouth.

“Turn around,” she whispers.

I spin around, my cock nearly hitting her in the face. Once again, she gives me that naughty smile as she looks up at me, and I take her head in my hands as she lowers her face and gently takes my swollen, throbbing cock into her mouth.

A moan leaves me as my cock hits the back of her throat, and she grasps hard onto my shaft as she moves her mouth up and down, her tongue flicking all over my bulging head. She clasps my ass cheek with her spare hand as she continues sucking my cock, expertly wanking my dick at the same time in the way only she knows how.

I feel my swollen balls tighten and lurch upward, and I know Selena can feel my load flowing up my shaft. She holds me tight as I grip her hair, and my dick erupts inside her mouth.

I let out a loud moan, and Selena’s eyes close as my load fills her mouth. I watch her savour my taste, appreciative to know how much she loves this, before she swallows it all down in one gulp. I lean against the garden table, trying to catch my breath, as she finally releases my cock. She knows I have a meeting with my team management in half an hour.

Selena resumes her place on the lounger, places her sunglasses back on, and sips the remainder of the peppermint tea still in the cup. I do up my pants as she picks up her book again.

“Thank you for the peppermint tea,” she tells me with a pout of her luscious mouth.

I give her a smile before retreating.

I am always happy to bring my wife a cup of peppermint tea.

Oysters

I’ve never liked oysters. In fact, I’ve never liked seafood, period. But I should have learned a long time ago to never say never. ’Cause I now rate oysters as one of my favourite delicacies. I guess that’s because I associate them with the man who introduced me to them. A man who introduced me to a few other things as well...

I met Dale d’Angelo when I was working as a Regional Sales Manager for a software company in Sydney. In the beginning, I met him only once, and once was enough to get me hooked. He was our new CEO, based in our headquarters in Melbourne. In the corporate IT world, Dale was known as ‘The Terminator.’ Give this guy a failing company, such as ours, and he would terminate all the dead wood. Then there would be a ‘rise of the machines,’ so to speak, and the company would go from being in the red to back in black. Then he would move on. Our company was no exception.

The first thing Dale did in his first six months was fire the Sales Director—my useless boss—and appoint someone far more astute. My boss didn’t even get a leaving party—he was gone before lunchtime. The keys to his office were changed before he left the building. I applied for his role, but I was unsuccessful. I didn’t even get an interview. One of my colleagues, Susan, was appointed over me. I’ll admit, this fuelled my ambition. My rage at being passed over gave me a determination I otherwise would have never had. I was furious that this stranger, this Dale guy, hadn’t even bothered to meet me or give me an interview. I would show him.

Then I met him. I smelt him before I saw him. He arrived unannounced in the Sydney office one Tuesday. I was sitting at my desk first thing in the morning, preparing for a presentation to an airline that afternoon, when my nostrils were hit with such an erotic aroma I was briefly stunned beyond any sort of intellectual capacity. I breathed in the expensive, spicy cologne, mixed with tobacco and top shelf red wine. I felt myself go into a trance. I could not see the screen in front of my eyes. I could not think clearly. Then I felt a very powerful presence stand over me.

“Good morning.”

The voice was deep and velvety smooth, with a veiled yet distinct air of belonging to someone you did not dare fuck with. I slowly raised my head.

Dale d’Angelo stood before me, his deep-set, cool blue eyes boring into mine. His eyes matched his tie, along with the subtle blue pin stripes on his black suit. His thick black hair was slicked back with a lot of gel, sitting above his rugged, handsome face, which had more lines than he deserved for his age, but would have come with the terrain of what he did for a job. I had seen his photo on the staff intranet, and I had seen he was a handsome man, but it had not prepared me for being in his actual presence. His aura, along with the aroma emanating from him, was so powerful I could barely breathe. I felt myself start to slip from my chair.

“I’m Dale d’Angelo. I don’t believe we’ve met yet,” he said, extending his hand out to me. “April?”

I wanted to stand, but I could not. Hearing him say my name had almost rendered me paralysed. I could barely lift my arm, or get my voice out.

“No,” I croaked. “I don’t think we have. I definitely would have remembered.”

I wanted to kick myself as soon as I said that, but my hand was already in his, making me feel as though I was falling off a building. If he could tell the effect he was having on me, he was professional enough not to show it. In a blur, we shook hands and he thanked me for my recent work with the airline.

“Good luck this afternoon,” he said, after he had slowly released my hand. “I know you’ll kill it.”

At that moment, Susan appeared and led him away. Apparently, they had a breakfast meeting with a client.

I sat alone at my desk, pleased that it was too early for anyone else to have arrived to work yet, because I was reeling in my chair over my encounter with him. Never in my thirty-two years had a man had such an effect on me. I was still quivering, still getting over the fact that not only did he know my name, but he knew all about what I was doing. I would come to learn that that was classic Dale—he got to know everyone, and everything about them.

I suddenly felt foolish. Foolish that I had acted so immaturely in his presence that I couldn’t even stand to shake his hand, and foolish that I had originally thought I was the right person for the Sales Director position. Susan was without doubt the right person for the job. She had far more experience and expertise than I did. But my embarrassment quickly turned into motivation. I made the decision right then that when she left, I would take her place. And I was going to be more than that—I was going to be an unforgettable employee, in more ways than Susan would ever be...

That afternoon, Dale held a CEO forum for all staff in the Sydney office. The attendance was so large that people were spilling out the door of the conference room. His vigour and passion for our products and our people was infectious. I had never come across a more inspiring CEO. But it was well known that Dale never stayed anywhere longer than three to four years; once he had resurrected a company, he moved on to the next challenge. I think that was part of the attraction toward him, that we all knew we wouldn’t have him for long, so we doubled our efforts knowing we only had a limited timeframe with this incredible leader.

Rumours swirled about his reputation. How he would hire and fire people in illegal ways, but because he was so good he always got away with it. Rumours also swirled about his love life. How he was a ladies’ man who had been married three times, and that he didn’t have ‘girlfriends,’ only a trail of female lovers who would never get to join him at any official events. It was also well known that he didn’t go through the usual channels of appointments. He did not interview people for positions on his leadership team, he ‘shoulder tapped’ them.

For the next two years, I worked my ass off. I was determined to stand out, to be better than Dale could imagine. To feel that ‘tap’ on my shoulder. My life consisted of long hours at work, hitting the gym, feeding my two cats, and more work. My team grew from five direct reports to ten, with my overall regional team growing from twenty-five to fifty-five. I eliminated our competition, scoring deals with not only the two biggest airlines in the country, but also the biggest banks. And the whole time, I imagined being in Dale d’Angelo’s thoughts...and his bed.

But my hard work was largely ignored by Dale. Susan congratulated me, giving me a large bonus each year and higher salary. But not one word from Dale d’Angelo. Not even after sales by my team grew by 200%.

Then came the email. The email that announced his resignation. And the second announcement, that Susan was taking his place. And the third, that my colleague, Colin Matthews, was taking her place.

In my entire career, in my entire life, I had never felt so deflated. I had worked harder than I ever had, and now I felt utterly used and abused.

My family worried about me. My mother found me lying on the floor of my apartment the night I received those emails, completely passed out after I had consumed three bottles of wine.

But I pulled myself together and went to work the next day. I sat at my desk in a rage that none of my hard work had been recognised by the man I had worked so hard for. I was unintentionally rude to my assistant, Mia, when she stopped by my desk later that morning.

“You know that leadership meeting that is happening at a retreat in Queenstown, New Zealand, next week?” she said. “You’re invited, too.”

“Decline it,” I snapped.

Mia raised an eyebrow.

“How about I get you a coffee, then we’ll talk about Queenstown,” she said.

I’ll give that girl this—she knew how things worked in that place, and she knew me, too. Sometimes better than I knew myself. She left the office to get my coffee from the cafe across the road and I followed her, then joined her out in the courtyard at the front entrance to our building. Mia smoked, and even though I had given up smoking years ago, I suddenly needed a cigarette. Badly.

“Please, I need one of those,” I said despairingly.

Mia handed over a cigarette and lighter. I stuck it in my mouth and lit it, inhaling sharply. I am usually a calm boss, but I am lucky to have such an observant and patient assistant, because today I was not a calm boss at all. And right now I was resenting her looks of sympathy.

“I’ve booked your flights to Queenstown,” she said, sucking on her own cigarette.

I glared at her. She should have known better than to do that without my approval first. She exhaled slowly.

“It’ll be okay, boss,” she said. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

Great. So my assistant had already ascertained that I was either gonna get fired soon, or leave under a cloud. I didn’t answer her. I was hung over and hung up over my own problems.

I figured I’d better go to Queenstown. I had decided that if I was gonna leave this shit hole company soon, I might as well get out of it what I could. A free trip to Queenstown, where there would be a lot of free alcohol flowing, was a good start.

When we arrived, I was stunned by the beauty of the place. I hadn’t been to that part of New Zealand before; it was really quite magnificent. It was winter, and the resort was adjacent to a stunning lake, which was beneath the beautiful Remarkable mountain range.

When Dale d’Angelo entered the meeting room, my heart rate did not increase the way it usually did. Instead, I felt nothing at all. I felt the same toward Susan, who had been grinning ear to ear this past week, following the announcement that she would be the new CEO. I played the polite employee the entire day as I listened to Dale and Susan discuss their outgoing and upcoming plans for the company, concentrating on my effort to not drop my head back and snore loudly.

Finally, it was over and dinner was announced.

I caught my appearance in a mirror going down the hall. My suit was wrinkled, my mascara was smudged, and some of my hair was out of place. I didn’t care. I made my way down to dinner in the main restaurant.

When I took my seat at the table, someone went to take the seat next to me. But a second hand blocked the chair. And, once again, I smelt him before I saw him. The sensual aroma of spicy cologne, tobacco, and top shelf red wine filled my nostrils.

“I’ll take this seat,” said the familiar smooth, deep velvety voice in a stern tone. The other person quickly retreated.

Even after all the resentment I had felt this past week, my mouth still went dry. My joints melted. I almost dropped the knife I was using to butter my bread.

“April...?” he said.

I slowly turned and looked into the face of the man whom I had worked so hard for, who had let me down so badly.

“Hello, Dale,” I said as nonchalantly as possible.

“I’ve been dying for a cigarette,” he stated. “But I’ve left mine in my room. Would you mind if I have one of yours?”

“I don’t smoke,” I replied.

“Yes, you do.”

I felt my face redden. I’d only just started smoking again, and only once had I done it at work, that day with Mia. How had he known about that?

“I, uh, I just started again,” I mumbled as I put my hand in my bag, searching for the packet.

I handed the packet to Dale, feeling myself start to crumble beneath the weight of his intense gaze. He took it from my hand as I silently scolded myself. This man did not deserve my feelings of intimidation. Not when I had directly helped him get his desired results, and he had never acknowledged it.

Dale put a cigarette in his mouth.

“I’ll need a lighter, too,” he said quietly.

I handed him a lighter. What else was he going to ask, for me to light the flame? I was getting annoyed. But there was also no doubt that, once again, he had ignited a flame between my legs. And I was burning under his gaze. I almost went numb from desire when he put his hand on my shoulder.

“You, too, look like you need a cigarette...” he said, rising from his chair.

His statement was a command. All I could do was nod and follow him outside. My knees barely kept me upright.

He stood with his back to me, and I saw the flame illuminate his frame from where I stood behind him, the cigarette dangling from my mouth. As if in slow motion, he turned around and lit it for me. The only reason it stayed between my lips was that my mouth was so dry it was actually stuck. I choked down a cough as I took it in my fingers and exhaled into the cold night air. It was June—New Zealand winter—and it was freezing. Thankfully, the outdoor heaters counterbalanced the icy temperature.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, in reference to the lake and mountain range before us.

I nodded.

“You ever been here before?” he asked me.

“No,” I replied. “I’ve only been to Auckland.”

He didn’t comment on my reply, just smiled at me, his eyes boring into mine, which made my heart thud against my chest. I made sure I held my cigarette out of view so he wouldn’t notice my shaking hands, which wasn’t from the cold. There was a very strong sexual tension enveloping us, which was getting stronger by the second. I couldn’t remember the last time I had wanted a man so badly. I don’t think there was ever a last time. But I still held the resentment toward him, not only for being passed over for promotion, but also for his complete lack of acknowledgement. I suddenly couldn’t hold it in any longer. It didn’t help that I’d had several glasses of wine already.

“What do you want from me, Dale?” I demanded, sounding angrier than I intended.

He looked at me sharply, making me recoil inwardly. I even took a step back from him. He took a step toward me.

“I want you,” he replied quietly, dangerously.

I stood frozen as his words hit me, the blood pumping through me, peaking between my legs.

“I want you to join me when I go to Venexa.”

Those words took longer to sink in.

“Venexa?” I asked.

“You think I haven’t noticed you? You think I would leave you here?” he said. “I knew the moment I met you that you were one of the best. I’m sorry I didn’t show my acknowledgement earlier. I’ll admit, my management style can be unorthodox, but I do things my way. And you’re coming with me, April. You will be the next Sales Director at Venexa.”

I had never felt such mixed emotions. I was finally hearing what I had been waiting to hear for so long, and more, but without doubt, by leading me out here I had been hoping for something more as well. I cursed myself silently for my lack of professionalism. I straightened up and looked Dale in the eyes.

“I would be extremely honoured to join you,” I said. “Thank you. I will not let you down.”

Both our cigarettes had burned down to the filters. I tossed mine in the ashtray as I went to walk back inside.

“April.”

I turned around.

“In a hurry to leave so soon?” he asked.

He gestured to a table.

“Come, sit. We will talk about your future.”

He remained standing as I almost stumbled over to the seat, and I once again was washed over by his sensual aroma as I passed him. I was so pleased it was dark—my face was on fire. So was the flesh between my legs.

“Have you ever tried these?” he asked, pointing at a pile of oysters on a large plate.

I hadn’t even noticed they were there. I could tell they were fresh. Had he had them delivered?

“I’m not really a fan of seafood,” I said truthfully.

“Don’t say that until you’ve tried these delicacies. These are Bluff oysters, from the bottom of the South Island here. Once you’ve tasted one of these, you will change your mind.”

He picked up a shellfish knife and expertly shucked one open. He handed it to me, along with an oyster fork.

“Just scoop it out and put it in your mouth. Chew it only once or twice before you swallow it down.”

As much as my distaste for seafood reigned, I didn’t dare disobey him. I did as I was told. The flesh of the shellfish met my tongue. It was velvety smooth, and slid down over my tongue, then down my throat. Its wet slipperiness resembled the wet velvet flesh I knew was sitting between my legs. I had to admit, it tasted really, really good. The aftertaste reminded me of the distant and erotic memory of a man’s cum in my mouth. Something I had not experienced in quite some time... As though reading my mind, Dale shucked open another and handed it to me.

“How does it taste?” he asked quietly.

“Amazing...” I whispered.

“I find I always perform better after a plate of these,” he stated, sliding one into his own mouth. “Especially with a glass of champagne afterwards.”

I wasn’t so naive that I didn’t know that oysters apparently increase libido, but I took this statement to mean his work...or was he seducing me? He picked up a bottle of champagne and popped the cork. Whether he intended to or not, I was feeling hopelessly seduced. I watched the liquid splash into the glasses, and again I was surprised at my lack of observance. I hadn’t even noticed the bottle sitting there. He handed a glass to me.

He slowly sat down and joined me at the table. He picked up my packet of cigarettes and helped himself, putting one in his mouth. He extended the packet to me. This time I declined. I could not have him witness my hands shaking by letting him see me smoke so close, even if I could use the cold as an excuse. His own hand was completely steady as he held his cigarette.

“I make you nervous, don’t I, April?”

I felt my face burn even hotter. Again, I was thankful for the darkness.

“No, not at all.”

He chuckled.

“A lot of people are nervous around me. I don’t reveal this to everyone, but since we will be working so closely, I can let you in on a few things. One is that I’ve always believed that the ability to instil fear in people also attracts them to you. I’ve found it to be a great motivator—as long as they know you are always fair. Do you think I’m a fair man, April?”

“Very,” I choked out.

“Good. Your discernment is very accurate. You can stop being nervous now.”

I decided to stop trying to impress him, and just be honest.

“It is a bit easier said than done. I do find you intimidating.”

He laughed.

“Now you’re being honest. But you need to work on being brutally honest. I know it’s in you. You try to please people too much.”

Again, I was amazed at how accurately he had me summed up. I was definitely a people pleaser, often to my own detriment.

“Do you find me attractive, April?”

“Excuse me?” I spluttered.

“Do you find me attractive?”

I stared at him, only to find his eyes boring into mine once again. I felt numb with both embarrassment and desire. Was this man really this arrogant? Or had I made it so obvious I was so in love with him? I simply stared back, unable to answer.

“Because I am extremely attracted to you...” he said quietly.

I felt paralysed.

“Why aren’t you married, April?” he whispered.

I wanted to slap him.

“I haven’t met the right man,” I whispered back, looking away.

“No. You’ve been hiding. No man could find you unless he looked hard enough...”

His hand touched my knee. I slowly turned my head toward him.

“I have been watching you for a long time. And I think you are amazing,” he said quietly, his rich velvet voice washing over me. “You cannot hide from me, April.”

In an instant, his lips were on mine. I couldn’t move as his arms wrapped around me, around my waist, his hand meeting the small of my back, his other hand cupping my face. After what felt like eternity, I finally was able to kiss him back, my mouth melting into his, accepting his tongue against mine, inside my mouth. Tasting the rich remnants of the oysters, the champagne, and everything else I had imagined kissing this man would be like. My head fell back, and his mouth dropped to my neck.

“Oh, my god...” I breathed as his lips kissed down my neck, and down lower, lower, reaching my chest, between my breasts. My nipples, already hardened by the cold air, stiffened toward him, aching as he ran his hand over the front of my shirt.

He abruptly exited my grasp and got to his feet. I gaped up at him, expecting him to regret what he had just done, realising it was all a big mistake... He instead extended his hand.

“Come with me, April.”

I put my hand in his, and he pulled me to my feet. Still holding my hand, he led me back into the resort. I followed behind him as we strolled past the restaurant, past the bar, where his staff—my colleagues—had now congregated after dinner. Their mouths dropped as they watched their CEO leading me by the hand toward his room. That was when I realised Dale d’Angelo truly did not care what anyone thought of his decisions once he had made up his mind. And he had made up his mind about me.

We reached the elevator. He held my hand firmly as we waited for the doors to open. When it arrived, we had it to ourselves, and he pinned me straight against the wall. I melted into him as his mouth sunk into mine again, his hands running over my breasts. I felt the hardness in his pants, pressing firmly against my stomach. When I lowered my hand to meet his manhood, the doors opened and he pulled me out.

The patio doors of his suite were wide open, revealing a steaming hot spa pool outside. Candles were lit all around, illuminating another plate of Bluff oysters and a bottle of champagne sitting on a small table alongside the pool.

Dale led me toward the pool. At first I was confused—surely he wasn’t...? He stepped into the pool, still wearing his clothes and shoes. He turned and took my leg, caressing my ankle as he removed my black stiletto. I allowed him to remove my other heel, then followed his lead into the spa, still wearing my pant suit.

“You aren’t meant to wear clothes in a spa, April,” he said, winking at me. “Come here.”

I glided through the water to his side, and his hands met my waist. The buttons of my shirt blew off as he ripped it open, revealing my bra. He peeled off my shirt, then my bra, then my pants. He took his time peeling off my g-string, caressing my ass as his tongue caressed mine in my mouth. Apart from my earrings, I was now completely nude in the spa. My carnal need to touch his cock, to taste it, took me over. I reached for his belt, but he pushed my hand away. He grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me up onto the edge of the steaming hot pool, exposing my steaming hot pussy directly beneath his face. I gaped at him as he ran a hand up the outside of my thigh.

“How long has it been?” he asked seductively.

“Too long...” I whimpered, embarrassed that he clearly knew I hadn’t been with a man for so long, yet so turned on I could not stop the throbbing ache in the flesh directly beneath his face.

He lowered his head and kissed me just below my navel, his hand still running over and caressing my outer thigh, his other caressing my breast as he continued kissing me, each kiss going lower and lower. I gasped as his mouth finally met my aching sex. My hand covered his on my breast as he pinched my nipple, while his tongue slid all over my folds, releasing all the tension and frustration I had held for so long—mostly the unrequited, raging lust I had felt for this man, who was now unleashing everything I had held in. I writhed all over the edge of the deck as his tongue expertly flicked over my clit, massaging deep into me as he pushed it down with his tongue, then diving down inside me, flicking in and out before sliding back onto my clit again. As I felt the orgasm building between my legs, I gripped the back of his head while he gripped my stomach with both hands, and my back arched up. I cried out as I came, my pussy convulsing against his tongue and my wetness seeping into his mouth, flying me into the most powerful orgasm I had ever had in my life.

I lay back, still quivering as he kissed my clit, attempting to calm me down. I sat up, and he took me in his arms, pulling me back into the pool, and pulling me into him. His mouth met mine, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he held my naked body tight against his wet shirt and pants in the steaming hot water. He released my mouth, and I rested my head on his shoulder, still recovering from the incredible orgasm he had just given me.

“You taste better than any oyster,” he whispered in my ear.

His cock was still raging stiff, and was hard against my stomach beneath the water.

“Let me taste you,” I commanded, sitting up. “But let’s get these clothes off you first!”

Dale grinned.

“You’re getting more commanding, April. I like it!”

I pulled his shirt open, revealing a very impressive chest. But I was more interested in experiencing that impressive hard cock. I grabbed his belt under the water, pulled it open, then opened his pants. His huge cock sprung out, meeting my hand.

“Sit up on the edge,” I whispered.

Dale lifted himself to the edge, stroking my face as I lowered my mouth to meet his raging hard cock, which was already throbbing in my hand. My tongue met the crown of his head, and I wrapped my lips around the girth of his thick, throbbing cock. Dale moaned softly as I took him fully into my mouth, taking him right to the back of my throat. He stroked my hair as I flicked my tongue all over his bulging head, licking the underside of his thick girth as I wanked him hard and sucked him harder. I savoured the taste of his pre-cum as it seeped into my mouth, trickling down my throat as I kept sucking on his cock. It had been so long since I’d had a man’s dick in my mouth, and I couldn’t get enough of it. His cock hardened and thickened more as I kept stroking him off, sucking his head above my hand then taking his whole length back into my mouth.

“April,” he gasped. “I wanna fuck you now.”

His cock tasted so good, and felt so amazing in my mouth, I could’ve sucked it all night, but he broke my bond by grasping a fistful of my hair and lifting my head out of his lap. He slid back into the tub, pulling me on top of him. He held me by the waist as I slowly lowered myself down onto his raging erection. I gasped as he pushed himself up inside me, impaling me, but my pussy instantly adjusted to his size. He moaned as he felt my pussy tightly grip his cock deep inside me, and his hands lowered down to my ass.

I didn’t need a cue. As soon as his hands met my ass, I wrapped my arms around his neck and raised my hips upwards, sliding up his shaft, then I slammed myself down again. I cried out as his bulging head hit my g-spot on the way down, and I eagerly raised my hips again, crying out a second time as my g-spot was stung in pleasure. Dale leaned back as he gripped my ass harder, and started thrusting up into me. I shrieked as he plunged his cock up into me, my chest pushing out as I threw my head back in response to his hard thrusts. The water started to splash over the tub, hitting some of the candles, causing them to go out as the steam rose higher into the cold air while Dale fucked me harder and harder in the pool. My pussy gripped his cock so tightly that I could see him clenching his teeth as he drove in and out of me. I writhed beneath his hands as he held me steady in the pool and continued to pound into me. I could feel my orgasm rising, building and building deep inside me, and it peaked just as Dale let out a loud groan. I gripped his shoulders as my head flew back, my mouth falling open as the orgasm hit me. It shot through me in waves, making my back shudder all over the surface of the water, splashing droplets up into the air as I convulsed in Dale’s arms. When it finally ended, I went limp.

When I could finally think clearly, I raised my head, still catching my breath, and looked at him. We stared into each other’s eyes as we continued to catch our breath. I suddenly felt embarrassed. I had lost complete control of myself as soon as my boss had inserted his cock. Dale’s hand met my face, and his lips met mine.

“Don’t feel embarrassed,” he said, once again reading my mind. “That was incredible.”

“I’ll say,” I agreed.

“I hope it was me who made you do that, and not the oysters,” he said into my ear, half-laughing.

I laughed with him.

“You taste better than any oyster,” I told him.

“I have never worked with my girlfriend before,” he said. “But I think I am going to really enjoy it.”

It took me a few seconds to absorb his words, remembering that this guy didn’t have ‘girlfriends.’ He stroked my face again.

“Are you my girlfriend?” he asked me.

My lips met his.

“Yes,” I whispered between kisses.

Normally, I would never consider working with a lover, but I knew when Dale d’Angelo made a decision, he always made it work.

We sunk lower into the tub in a long passionate kiss, the steam rising around us. I was going to really enjoy my upcoming new job, with my new boyfriend.

White Sands

It has always been a mystery to me how you can hate someone so much...and love them so much. I guess Elizabeth Taylor experienced this when she married Richard Burton, twice. Then divorced him, twice. I wonder if they are still screaming at each other in the afterlife, loving each other and hating each other, in a never-ending fiery, passionate rage.

Because I have been there. Oh have I been there. When I think of my ex-husband, I have never despised someone more. And I have never desired someone more.

John was a cop who was ten years my senior. We met when I was twenty-one, in a kinda cliché way to meet a cop. A woman in the in the same apartment complex as me had been brutally assaulted the night before, and John knocked on my door to ask if I had seen or heard anything. I’ll never forget the moment I saw him. I had just come out of the shower, and was startled to hear a knock on my door so early. Without thinking, I just opened the door, still with a towel around myself. On my doorstep stood the best-looking man I had ever seen. He looked just like Paul Newman, his crystal blue eyes boring into me. John didn’t even flinch at my state of dress—or should I say undress. He professionally held up his ID, said who he was and why he was there, and asked if he could come in and talk.

He offered to wait while I dressed, but I said it didn’t matter. I invited him in and we sat in my living room as I tried to recount anything I may have noticed the night before. But with such a good-looking man sitting so close to me, it was hard for me to think. I said I didn’t see or hear anything, which was the truth. He handed me his card, and said to call him if I could recall anything from that night. As he left, he also said I shouldn’t open the door so willingly when there was a violent predator in the area; always ask who it is before opening the door, he told me. He gave me a short but stunning smile as he left, which was in contrast to the hard exterior he had carried during our conversation. My heart fluttered at the sight of it. I didn’t expect to see him again, but did hope I would.

About three days later, around the same time, there was another knock at the door. This time I did ask who it was.

“Detective John Carlyle,” came the reply.

My heart leapt into my mouth. With hands shaking, I opened the door.

“Come in,” I stumbled.

John said the offender had been caught and arrested. Apparently, it was a guy the woman worked with, who had become obsessed with her. Again, he asked if I remembered hearing or seeing anything, and again I said I did not.

“Perhaps if I took you out for a drink... would that refresh your memory?” he asked me, in a direct, husky voice that I would get to know too well. And flashed that quick but stunning smile again. His eyes seemed to pierce straight into my inner being. Cop eyes. Only a cop can look at you like that. I had to swallow twice before I could answer.

“I think it might...” I replied, ignoring the heat that had engulfed the area between my thighs.

“Tomorrow, seven o’ clock, at the White Sands bar,” he said, tipping his hat. “See you there.”

He let himself out. I had to drink a glass of cold water to calm myself down.

The night after, I went to the White Sands bar, where he wined and dined me. After which he fucked my brains out. And everything went from there.

Just thinking about it now excites me. And exhausts me. Now that I am ten years older, I am able to see far more clearly. That the man behind the commanding presence, the suave smile, the sexy uniform, was troubled down to his core. His raging passion for locking up sexual predators came from somewhere deep inside, from somewhere dark in his past. But he would never, ever tell me what, or who, had caused it.

Our marriage was a train wreck. We were married after six months of dating. I was a starry-eyed twenty-two-year-old, with no idea what I was getting into. Within one month of our wedding, almost straight after the honeymoon, John shut me out. I couldn’t even touch him. It started when he had a horrendous nightmare in bed one night. I had to wake him from it. When I asked him what he had been dreaming about, he said he couldn’t remember. That was when he started sleeping on the couch. We went from having sex every day to having sex about every three weeks, which then turned into six weeks... One time it was seven weeks. He told me it was because of work, that he was too tired and distracted.

We started arguing over the most outrageous things. We once argued over a piece of cake. I cut him a slice of chocolate cake I had baked, and he criticised me for cutting it too thin. I told him he could cut his own damn cake, then. We ended up in a screaming match. I called him an ungrateful bastard, and went to thump him on the chest. He caught my hand, and next thing I knew, we were fucking on the kitchen bench. Nobody has ever fucked me the way John could. I came twice before we knocked the cake over and it fell on the floor, smashing the plate. After he ejaculated, he kissed me and said he had to go to work, then didn’t talk to me for three days. I became convinced that he was seeing someone else, and had affairs of my own. I rubbed his face in it; I would go out in the evenings dressed to kill, and I would come home reeking of another man’s cum. I wanted him to hurt the way I did. But apart from one nasty argument when he called me the town slut, I was met with utter indifference. After two years of marriage, I moved out. I didn’t say good bye. I just left him a note on the kitchen counter.

I received a text the next day. I’m sorry, it read. You deserve better. I hope you find happiness.

His lack of emotion ripped me apart. I wanted him to scream at me, so I could scream back. But there was nothing I could say to that message. I never replied. Instead, I filed for divorce, and spent the next ten years working as a barmaid in a different city, getting drunk and getting laid. I tried to meet other people, but the ghost of my husband would not leave me. Eventually, I moved back to our old town, finding a job in a local bar. It was a small town, and I knew that eventually I would run into him. And for the first time in ten years, I was ready to see him again...

Then it finally happened.

He was in uniform. It was Friday night, and it was crowded, and you could feel the hush go over the crowd as the cop entered and made his way to the bar. It wasn’t just the uniform, or his incredible good looks—it was that arresting presence that drew you in, that would completely disarm you and render you utterly defenceless to his command.

Even after all this time, I was thunderstruck, frozen to the floor as the man I had left so long ago, but never stopped thinking about, made his way toward the bar. My colleague, Ann, got to him first. She almost melted under his gaze.

“Can I help you, officer?” she beamed, eyelashes fluttering.

“I just need to ask a few questions about a certain patron who was here last night,” he replied.

“Ask away,” Ann replied, oozing her desire toward him.

But I felt John’s eyes on me, and I avoided eye contact as I served other customers. I’m not sure when he first saw me, whether it was when he walked in or when he got to the bar. He may have already known I was working here... John had an uncanny ability to know most things. He was a brilliant cop with a lot of contacts; he very likely knew I’d returned to town and was working in this bar. He probably could have sent a colleague in his place, but he had come to do the job himself. I saw Ann join him in a booth. She sat there for about fifteen minutes, while I tried to concentrate on serving my customers.

“He wants to talk to you,” Ann stated on her return.

I took my time serving some Bloody Marys before I excused myself and made my way toward my ex-husband. My feet felt like concrete as I walked toward him. I felt a bizarre cocktail of emotions that was overwhelmingly dread mixed with excitement. And rage. I realised that the rage still hadn’t quite left me.

I slid into the booth. I held my chin up as I looked into his eyes, hiding my shaking hands underneath the table. His eyes did what they had always done to me: stripped me naked, and set me on fire between my legs.

“Hello, John,” I finally said.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“How are you?” he finally asked.

“Yeah, I’m great,” I lied. “And you?”

“Fine,” he replied.

Neither of us said anything further as he scanned his phone. The awkwardness started to get a bit suffocating.

“What can I do for you?” I asked.

He looked up, but took a while to answer, studying me with his steely blue gaze. Cop eyes.

“How long have you been back?” he asked.

“Just a couple of months.”

“When did you start working here?” he asked.

“About three weeks ago,” I replied. “Why?”

“That figures. I’ve been in here a few times, but I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Can you tell me what you want? I’m supposed to be working.”

John pulled out a photo of a guy, asking if I’d seen him a few nights before. This time, I did know who he was, and told him so. John informed me the guy had allegedly raped a woman over the weekend, after spiking her drink at this bar earlier in the evening. I felt the bile rising in my mouth, a realisation hitting me.

My ex-husband’s eyes bared down on me, penetrating through to my inner core. He could already tell I had recognised this creep.

“How do you know this guy?” he asked me.

It took me awhile to answer.

“I went home with him two weeks ago.”

For a second, I saw a flicker of emotion cross his face. His jaw tightened, followed by a bulging vein in his neck. Then it was immediately replaced with the familiar mask of indifference. The same mask I had come to hate and resent so much, so long ago.

“Did you have sex?”

I glared at him.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Was it consensual?”

“Yeah.”

“Any unusual sexual activity?”

“No.”

“Was he rough?”

“No.”

“And you willingly drank with him earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“How much did you drink?”

“Not enough to make me unaware of what I was doing, but it was a lot...”

John absorbed this. And I absorbed it, too, knowing that the conversation we just had could be dismissed in court due to the obvious conflict of interest that we used to be married, and we were discussing another man I had slept with. John obviously didn’t plan on using the information I’d just given him as evidence, just for his own personal use...

John showed me a photo of a woman. I immediately recognised her as well.

“Yeah, he was hanging around her that night,” I told him. “They didn’t appear to be a couple, though...he was just following her around like a bad smell. Is she the one who made the accusations?”

John nodded. Then he showed me another photo. I gasped. It was of the same woman, but she was almost unrecognisable. Her face was so bruised and beaten, one of her eyes was almost swollen shut.

“You reckon he did it?” I asked him.

“Yeah. We’ve already obtained CTV footage of him using the bathroom at a gas station afterwards, where he tried to clean himself up. He tried to flush his shirt down the toilet, and blocked the drain. When we got it, there were splashes of her blood through it. If the results come back as a match, we’ll go in for the arrest. If not before.”

I swallowed hard, feeling sick to my stomach. Not only had I gone home with this piece of shit, but that could have been me. I tried to remember more about the bastard, but nothing unusual sprung to mind, except that it was a very forgettable encounter.

“Isn’t this a conflict of interest, you questioning me?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t expecting to hear what you just told me.”

There was a judgemental tone in his voice.

“What I do is none of your business,” I said sharply.

“I’m just saying that when I asked you about him, I wasn’t expecting to hear that story.”

“Well, best you assign another cop to the case, then. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go back to work.”

I rose from my seat and slid out of the booth. I still felt sick. I’d just found out I’d slept with an alleged rapist, and the man who’d told me was the love of my life. It felt extremely fucked up.

“Carey,” he said.

I stopped short, my breath catching in my chest. The sound of him calling my name was something I hadn’t heard in a very long time. And I’ll admit, I had craved it all this time. I slowly turned around. His eyes drew me in, the same way they always had. But this time, I saw something I hadn’t seen before. Or at least noticed before. They revealed pain. It was only there for a second, then it was gone. Frosted over by the mask, and the piercing blue gaze. Cop eyes.

“You’re looking good,” he said. And that smile. Brief, but just as arresting as it had always been.

“Thanks,” I replied, quickly leaving.

He spoke to a few more people, and when he finally left, I didn’t look his way. I felt all the eyes on him as he left. At forty-three, John was looking damn fine. It was a contrast to myself. I knew I looked older than my thirty-three years, with more lines than I should have. Ten years of boozing and smoking will do that to you. And lamenting for ten years over a man like that will also do it to you. I probably looked at least five years older. As he left, I hoped I would never see him again, but somehow I knew I would. And I also knew that I wanted to see him again... Something had made me go back to my hometown. Something had made me apply for a job at this bar. This bar which, twelve years later, was still called The White Sands ...

When I got home that night, I fell straight into bed, naked, where I had vivid dreams about John, but none which I could recall when I woke up, except that I was wet with sweat. Especially between my thighs.

Just after I showered, there was a loud knock at the door. I was still naked. I pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around myself before I headed to the front.

“Who’s there?” I called.

“Detective John Carlyle,” came the reply.

He had tracked down where I lived. The feeling of déjà vu was almost overwhelming. But I knew I didn’t have to open the door. As my ex-husband, he wasn’t supposed to be talking to me about the case. I could have told him to leave and send someone else...

I opened the door. I was immediately transported back to twelve years ago. There he stood, still wearing the same uniform, looking the same, like a doppelganger of Paul Newman, those blue eyes boring into me. The smell of his cologne hit my nostrils. He was wearing the same cologne. If he was wearing it last night, I hadn’t noticed, but I sure as hell noticed it now. It wafted into my nostrils and stung me on all my soft, sensitive regions. He finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence.

“Just wanted to ask you a few more questions. Mind if I come in?”

I stepped aside. I felt like I was floating as he walked passed me, his arm brushing mine, the sweet smell of his cologne engulfing me. I closed the door and followed him in. I watched him from the kitchen as he took a seat on the sofa in the living room. I finally managed to speak.

“You want something to drink?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he replied in his husky, smooth tone. In ten years, it hadn’t changed.

“What would you like?”

“You really need to ask?”

“It’s a little early for Jack on the rocks...” I said.

“Why’s that? Neither of us are going to work any time soon...”

My heart skipped a beat. What was that supposed to mean?

“Why are you here in uniform, then?” I asked.

“Just finished the night shift.”

I looked at him as I pulled down the bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the shelf. I’d had that bottle for about three years. I barely drank the stuff. The memories of whom I used to share it with just weren’t worth it. My heart fluttered as he gave me that smile again, causing me to look away as I grabbed a block of ice from the freezer and started to hammer it with an ice pick. I did not try to disguise how hard I was hitting it, concentrating on the shards of ice that sprang off the edges. Suddenly, I felt him right next to me. Before I could wonder how he had gotten so close to me without my noticing, his hand covered mine.

“Allow me,” he said. I had no choice but to drop the ice pick. My joints had gone limp.

He expertly knocked the ice off the block. Even with twelve years of bartending experience under my belt, he was still better at it than I was. He poured the whiskey into the tumbler glasses, half full, as he always did. Before I could raise the glass to my lips, he clinked his own against mine.

“Cheers,” he said.

I set my glass down.

“John, what exactly are we toasting to? And what exactly are you here for? It’s pretty obvious it isn’t police business.”

“I just wanted to see you,” he replied. “I knew you were back in town, so I thought I’d stop by. But if you don’t want me here, I’ll leave.”

He used to do this when we were married. Give me some attention after days of indifference, but act as though everything was cool when it never was. Then he’d walk away when I got ‘difficult,’ always after saying something awful that would cut through me. Today I knew he was going to be no different.

He went to put down his drink. And I didn’t stop him.

“Well, might see you ’round,” I said.

This was the first time I had not tried to stop him walking away, or yelled at him in frustration, or desperation, at his coldness and lack of affection. And he wasn’t used to it. He actually glared at me. I could see change in his eyes. The mature cop was starting to transition.

“Nice to know my ex-wife is still the proud town slut,” he spat.

I laughed.

“So that’s what this visit is about?”

He slammed down his drink. The transition was complete.

“You always have to fuckin’ ruin everything, don’t you? I just wanted a quiet drink with the love of my life, whom I haven’t seen for ten years, but clearly nothing has changed. I’ll let myself out.”

He went to grab his hat. Gone was the cool, calm, and collected cop whom I had spoken with last night, who also walked into my apartment five minutes ago. In his place was the petulant asshole I had been married to. All the sexual chemistry between us evaporated in one second. But he was wrong. Things had changed. Because I had changed.

“Sit down, John,” I commanded.

He must have been stunned at the tone of my voice, because he stopped short and turned to look at me. Still holding the sheet around myself, I lifted my tumbler glass and took a long sip of whiskey. I had been preparing for this moment for a long, long time. I gestured back to the couch.

“I don’t want you to leave,” I said. “Sit down.”

For a moment, the face of frost was gone as he stared at me...glared at me. In his eyes was the brief look I recognised from the night before, a look that was full of emotion. In hindsight, it had always been there, but I had been too young to recognise it, or understand what it was. Almost immediately, it was covered again by the familiar steely gaze, followed by the old cold demeanour. As I walked back over to the couch, I handed his glass back to him on the way. I almost did not expect him to follow me, but he did. When I sat down, he sat down, too. I sat facing him, swirling my drink in my hand.

“You just called me the love of your life,” I said. “You’ve never called me that before. Why now?”

He took a while to answer, looking into his drink, swirling it in the glass, the same way I was doing.

“Because it took me this long to realise it,” he finally answered. “I know why you left. I’ve never hated you for it.”

It was now my turn to take my time answering.

“I know why you forced me to leave,” I said, quietly. “And I don’t hate you for that.”

“You should.”

“How could I, when I know what happened to you?”

I could tell I had hit a nerve. A very exposed one. His jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white around the glass, but he wouldn’t look at me. He rose to his feet and turned his back.

“What the hell are you on about now?” he asked, still with his back to me.

“John, you can lie to everyone else, and you can lie to yourself. But you cannot lie to me...”

I could see his shoulders stiffen. He gulped down almost the entire glass of whiskey.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he said, going to get his hat.

“But you have. You are here, and now you’re too drunk to drive, so why don’t you stay?”

He still wouldn’t face me, and remained silent. When it became clear he wasn’t going to answer, I decided to press a bit more.

“Who was it, John? Who did this to you...?”

Now he did turn around. He looked enraged as he pointed a finger at me, stumbling as the whiskey began to take hold.

“Fuck you, Carey!” he yelled. “You don’t know shit!”

I ignored his outburst.

“Why didn’t you invite your mother to our wedding, John?” I pressed.

He clenched his eyes shut and put his hand over his face.

“It was someone she knew, wasn’t it?” I said, pressing further. “The person who did this to you... And your mother did nothing.”

His knees gave way, and he collapsed back onto the sofa across from me, covering his face with his hand. I knew then that what I had suspected for all these years was the devastating truth. I decided I wouldn’t say anything more. I couldn’t. I felt my heart melt for him, for his agony and his pain. And I realised that I still loved him with all my heart. I had never stopped loving him. My former contempt toward him now transferred to whoever had caused him such suffering. I felt it seep into a seething rage.

“Are they still alive?” I asked, my voice shaking with anger.

He took a deep breath, his hand still covering his face.

“No,” he whispered from behind his hand. “And don’t ask me about them again.”

I went to reach out to him, but he recoiled from my touch.

“Who told you this, Carey?” he finally asked, still hiding his face.

“You did,” I replied, softly.

He stole a glance at me, his face questioning mine.

“Your nightmares,” I began. “I heard them. You told me how rape survivors behave with others, how they avoid intimacy and closeness, pushing everyone away. That’s why you slept on the couch. And your passion for snuffing out sexual predators...” I trailed off.

By now, I had tears in my eyes. Again, I reached out my hand, and touched his knee. This time he did not recoil, and allowed me to touch him.

“I’m so sorry, John,” I told him. “I didn’t understand.”

There was a long silence between us. I expected him to brush my hand off, but he didn’t attempt to do so. The clock ticking on the wall echoed loudly. We both jumped when it suddenly began to chime at seven in the morning, causing me to raise my hand off his knee. But before I could retreat my hand, he put his over mine. He finally looked at me, and I saw that tears filled his eyes. I realised this was the first time I had ever seen him cry. And it was the first time I had ever been able to look him deep in the eyes...

“This is why,” I said. “You are still the love of my life.”

He pulled me toward him. By then I had forgotten about the sheet I had been holding around myself, and I felt it fall to my waist. My bare breasts pressed against his uniformed chest as his lips met mine, his arms around my back holding me tight against him. I don’t know how long we stayed in that tight embrace, just with our lips together and our arms around each other, but it was the most passionate kiss I had ever had with anyone. I felt all the walls between us melt away, and I could finally feel what I had craved from him the day we met. True love.

He finally broke his lips away from mine and buried his face in my hair. His fingers grasped the skin of my back, and I felt mine rise up towards his head. I ran my hands through his thick hair and down the nape of his neck, and his lips met mine again. Our kisses became a ferocious hunger as he held me so tight I could barely breathe, and he was soon on top of me on the couch, his raging erection pressing against me through his pants. I hadn’t really been expecting this to happen after such an emotional conversation, but it was clearly what we both wanted.

My naked body entwined with his beneath his blue uniform as he kissed down my neck, his hands grasping my breasts. My nipples bulged bigger and harder than they had ever been before, as each one met his mouth and he sucked on them. The skin between my thighs had become so hot that when his hand met the flesh there, I gasped. My clit throbbed against his fingers, and my wetness easily allowed him to slip two fingers inside me.

“Oh John...!” I whimpered as his fingers hit my g-spot.

I moaned as he finger fucked me, his raging hard cock still pressing against my stomach. I went for his belt, unleashing the cock that had satisfied me and infuriated me all those years before. It met my hand, and I grasped it hard as he continued to fuck me with his fingers. I moved my hand up and down his shaft as I felt it throb against my palm, while my pussy pulsed in his hand. I lost the grip on his cock as he moved down my torso, removing his fingers from inside me as he kissed down my stomach. His mouth met my pussy, and I completely gave myself away to him the same way I had so long ago, during the few times he actually pleasured me this way. Because no one could give me oral sex the way John could. I gripped the back of his head and writhed all over the couch as he held his hands steady on my stomach, stretching my pussy up into his mouth as his tongue worked me, sliding up and down my folds and flicking my clit, then dipping in and out of me. I felt my back arch as I was about to come, but John could read my mind now the same way he could when we were married; he knew I wanted his cock in my mouth, and that I only liked to come when he fucked the living daylights out of me.

He lifted his face from my pussy, then leaned over me, directing his cock into my mouth. But I had to look at it first. I had fantasised for so long about having his cock again that I took a few moments to savour the sight of it as I rubbed it down. John had the perfect pink cock, seven inches long when aroused, which always pierced me with the perfect amount of pain before it transformed to pleasure, and was topped with a bulging head which blazed red the more aroused he became. I couldn’t look at it for long before he pushed it toward my mouth, and I hungrily took his cock in.

I closed my eyes as his cock filled my mouth, taking in the same taste and smell of him that had so turned me on, and turned me upside down, so long ago. He moaned as I held him by the shaft and sucked him up and down, ravenously taking him to the back of my throat as I clamped my lips tightly around his thick girth, his cock sliding in and out of my mouth as I flicked my tongue over his bulging red head and beneath the underside. I could feel his balls begin to pulsate when he gasped my name.

“Carey, I wanna fuck you!”

Only the thought of him fucking me allowed me to let his cock out my mouth. I was enjoying that so much that I could have sucked it for hours. He stretched out on top of me as I parted my legs, and my head fell back as his rock hard, seven-inch cock pierced into me for the first time in ten years. I let out a moan as his cock opened me up, stretching me out. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pulled backwards, then slammed straight back into me. He wrapped his arms around my back, burying his face into my neck as he hammered into me, my pussy taking his cock deeper and deeper inside me with every thrust. I gripped the back of his neck hard as he pounded inside me, knowing for sure now that there was no other man I ever wanted inside me again. My pussy began to throb around his cock, gripping it harder than ever, as I was starting to hit the brink of orgasm. I felt my entire body go rigid as the orgasm hit, my g-spot going into overdrive as John’s cock continued to pound against it, and I began to convulse beneath him. I gripped the back of his head as I cried out into his neck, my body writhing beneath his just as he met his own orgasm.

“Carey!” he grunted, holding me tight.

I felt his cock explode, his warm cum erupting and seeping deep into me. John collapsed on top of me, his face buried in my neck and my hair. I lay still beneath him with my eyes closed, stroking his back, recovering from the best sex, and the best orgasm, I had ever had in my life. And we just held each other like that, something we had never done before. When he finally lifted his face, we looked into each other’s eyes for a long time, and he gently stroked my face before he finally eased himself out of me. He held me in his arms as I stroked his hair, running my hand through it and over the nape of his neck. He kissed me, then he took my hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it before kissing me on the mouth again.

“Please, Carey, don’t ever leave me again,” he whispered between kisses.

“I don’t ever want to again,” I replied, kissing him back.

We kissed for a long time, just holding each other.

“Why didn’t you tell me...?” I whispered into his ear.

“I’ve never told anyone...” he whispered back.

I felt the tears prick my eyes again. I blinked them back. We would have to have another conversation about this at some point soon, as painful as it would be. John stroked my back.

“How can we make this work this time?” he asked softly.

I stroked his face.

“Let me love you, John,” I whispered, looking into his eyes. “At least try. Do you think you can try?”

He stared into my eyes, and this time he did not try to hide the vulnerability inside his own.

“I love you, John,” I told him.

“I love you, too,” he whispered.

This time I did not try to blink away my tears. It was the first time he had ever said those words to me. During our entire marriage, he had never uttered them, not even once. He pulled me close, his mouth meeting mine. I sunk into his kisses, melting into him.

I was under no illusions, because I knew this was not going to be easy. Nobody recovers from trauma overnight. But unlike twelve years earlier, I knew exactly who I was with, and what I was doing. Despite the pain, I was with the only man I would ever love. And he was still worth every moment of it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jade Stone

Jade Stone is a New Zealand based author.

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TORRID BOOKS

www.torridbooks.com

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

Other Books by Jade Stone

Black Jack

Cupcakes and Champagne

Champagne on Ice

Elizabeth’s Song

Gloss

Like a Surgeon

Medusa

Mrs. Peppermint Tea

Oysters

White Sands

About the Author