BURN... EROTICA

by

JADE STONE

TORRID BOOKS

www.torridbooks.com

Published by

TORRID BOOKS

www.torridbooks.com

An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC

Copyright © 2016 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: 978-1-68299-204-3

Credits

Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Editor: Fern Valentine

Printed in the United States of America

First Serve

Back in my last year at high school, all the girls in my gym class had a crush on Mr. Jameson. And I was no exception. I didn’t care much for sports, much preferring drama and English literature lessons. Until Mr. Jameson arrived half way through the year. Suddenly hockey, tennis and basketball became a whole lot more interesting.

I’d peg him about twenty-seven, which is now four years younger than I am. We’d heard he’d once been destined for a professional football career, until a shoulder injury dashed those hopes. I wondered how he felt about having to teach us giggling fools, when he could’ve had fame and fortune.

I had lost my virginity to my boyfriend Nick just over a year ago, on my seventeenth birthday, and it was nothing to rave about. Sex with him wasn’t particularly bad, but it certainly wasn’t good. Nick thought it was, but he just didn’t get it. Grabbing at my boobs and grunting while he thrusted away was getting pretty boring.

I’d watch Mr. Jameson demonstrate his dribbling skills during basketball, his tanned arms ripped by what was no doubt a rigorous fitness regime. His thick brown hair tied back in a ponytail, partly bleached by the sun, and I’d imagine running my fingers through it. My boyfriend’s lanky white arms and knobby fingers were becoming more and more unappealing.

During another forgettable sex session with Nick I started thinking about Mr. Jameson... Jared, was his name, apparently. Nick started to go down on me, pushing a knobby finger inside me as he sucked on my clit. The slurping noise he made during this act was getting really annoying. His finger inside me was starting to hurt, too, as he pushed it in and out. Then I shrieked out in pain and pushed his head away.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

I leaned over the bed doubled over.

“You bit me,” I growled.

Nick was very apologetic, but at that moment I decided we were done. I went home and told him the next day we were over. Nick, thankfully, took it well.

I went off to gym class. It was now summer, and Mr. Jameson was looking better than ever. We were playing tennis for the next three weeks, and I’d made sure my new skirt was just a bit shorter than it needed to be. When I walked out on to the court I saw him look at me about a second longer than he needed to, then look away. I was taken by surprise at the heat that suddenly burned between my legs. I looked back at him, and saw he was eyeing me again, just for a second, before he turned around and addressed the class. I stood awkwardly with my tennis racquet; what the hell was I doing? I forced myself to think about the trouble he could be in if he ever made an advance toward me, then told myself I was of legal age, was it really so bad...?

“Ursula.”

I snapped awake. He was looking at me. So was everyone else.

“Join me on the court please. Everyone watch Ursula; she’s mastered her serve very well.”

I was very pleased. I had practiced whacking the ball against the wall at home the past few weeks.

I performed a perfect serve, and Jared thrashed the ball back at me. I hit it right back, and he smashed it back again. I could feel my tits bounce around as I darted all over my side of the court. I could feel the boys watching them, and I knew the one across from me had noticed them, too. The heat between my legs had returned with a vengeance. I was so on fire I hit the ball harder than I ever had before. We went on like this until he hit the ball into the net. Everyone clapped and cheered, no one had beat Jared at anything before.

Jared wiped his brow with his towel.

“Well done,” he said, tossing the ball at me.

I paired up with one of the girls for the remainder of the lesson.

At the end, I decided to be the helpful student and collected everyone’s racquets. I was going to end up alone in the shed putting them away, only I was hoping I wouldn’t stay alone....

I took my time putting the racquets away, when I finally finished, I was still alone in the shed. I swallowed my disappointment and went to leave. Someone darkened the doorway.

“You forgot my racquet.”

He threw it toward me; I caught it by the handle. I twirled it in my hand.

“Did you let me win?” I asked, eyeing him.

“No, I did not,” he replied. “You have quite a talent on that court; I have noticed.”

“I have talents in a few things…”

“Really...? What might those other things be?”

“Ah, not all of them are recognised scholastically...”

I reached up to place his racquet on the wall. My ass poked out as I reached up, and I knew my flat, tanned stomach was showing under my shirt. He took a step toward me, then leaned against the bench, folding his arms. His biceps bulged under his hands. I felt a surge of desire wash over me. Something I had always hoped would happen with Nick, but it never did.

I realised the buttons on my shirt were undone all the way down to my cleavage. He had noticed, too.

“I’m sure a smart girl like you can educate me,” he said softly. “Especially if you’re as talented off court as you are on. I bet you are...”

We faced each other. And I suddenly became aware of the enormity of what I was doing. I was eighteen, and I was seducing a man almost ten years older than me. My teacher. Or was he seducing me? At that moment it was unclear, but what was very clear was I had never wanted a man to fuck me as badly as I did at that moment. I could now smell his aftershave. It wafted into me and stung me between my legs. My mouth went dry, I couldn’t talk. Somehow I found my voice again.

“I’m quite a fan of indoor sport...” I said huskily.

I looked deep into his eyes, which he hadn’t taken off me since he came in here.

“Which one?” he asked quietly.

I stepped closer. Now I could feel his body heat against mine. But he still wouldn’t touch me.

“Which one is your favourite?” I breathed.

“You first,” he whispered.

About two seconds ticked by, then I grabbed his face in my hands and kissed him. His arms went around me as he pushed me against the wall. His mouth covered mine as I sank into him, his strong hands running down my back. I gasped as I felt his rock hard cock press against my stomach through his trousers. His hands reached my ass, he cupped my cheeks in both hands, then moved his hands back up to my waist. He ran his hands under my shirt, lifting it over my head. He pulled away from me, looking down at my chest. I felt my nipples harden under my tight black sports bra. He pushed my bra up, making my tits pop out. He expertly unclicked my bra, and it fell to the floor. He kissed me again, then dropped his mouth to my neck, kissing down to my chest. He took a nipple between his lips, looking up at me as he pulled my breast into his mouth. I let out a moan and ran my hands over his hair, undoing his ponytail. His shoulder length hair brushed against my other nipple before he took it in his mouth. My hard nipples gleamed in the sunlight as he kissed down my stomach. Then he came back up and kissed me again. I melted into his kiss, I had never been kissed like this in my life.

“Oh my God...” I gasped, as he kissed up and down my neck again.

His kisses were hard, almost like he was biting my neck. My mouth fell open in a silent cry as the heat of his kisses surged down between my thighs. I began to ache there.

“You are a very beautiful and talented woman,” he breathed into my ear.

No one had ever called me a woman before. The desire washed over me like white heat. I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist. He caressed my ass under my skirt, then reached up and started peeling down my underwear. I lowered my legs from around his waist as my thong slipped past my knees and rested on the floor. His hand slid up my inner thighs, reaching my pussy, which was now wet and pulsing. I gasped again as he slipped two fingers inside me, using his thumb to gently rub my clit. My muscles started to clench around his fingers as he drove me wild, his thumb pushing my clit down, stroking it in a circular motion. My back arched and my neck gave way, my chest heaved in his face. I was gonna climax. My first orgasm with someone else...

Then he took his hand away.

“Don’t stop!” I squeaked.

He just smiled and put his hands back on my ass. He hoisted me up onto the bench, then put his hands on my knees, and gently pushed my legs apart.

My knees began to tremble, I wanted his cock in me so badly. Then I felt the sun on me again. The door was wide open. Anyone could come in and see us! I suddenly felt very selfish. I grabbed his face with both hands.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” I whispered.

“I resigned on Monday,” he whispered back. “I’ll be gone by next week.”

I started to tremble again. Everywhere. I wanted him to fuck me more than anything.

“We can stop if you want,” he said gently.

I saw the bulge in his pants. I could barely breathe. I grabbed his belt and unfastened it. His cock came out in my hand, it was huge. It throbbed in my palm. I pulled it toward me.

“Please fuck me,” I breathed.

He grabbed my waist and pulled me to the edge of the bench. I let out a cry as the head of his cock pushed at my entrance, getting bigger as it slid deep inside, all the way in. I pressed my legs around his waist as my pussy accepted his huge cock. I lay my back down on the bench as he pinched one of my nipples.

“Do you really want this?” he rasped.

“Yes!” I cried.

He slid his cock back down, and I gasped in shock as he slammed it back up inside me. And again. And again. I didn’t know a man’s cock could feel this incredible! He slammed it in and out as I put my hands over my mouth to stop screaming out. He put a hand on my chest and held me down, fucking me harder and harder. I saw the open door again. Suddenly the thought of someone walking in on us became a real turn on. I imagined what it would look like, me sprawled out on the bench, wearing nothing but my shoes and tennis skirt around my waist, with my teacher fucking the living daylights out of me.

I clenched my pussy tighter around his cock, feeling it get even bigger inside me. My pussy began to convulse around it as it pounded in and out of me. I squeezed my hands around my mouth, grabbing my face tight to keep from screaming. Then I felt my back arch up. I started to shake. I realised I had lost control, I bit down on my hand as my body writhed around on the bench. I closed my eyes, I didn’t want my orgasm to end. I started to feel him quiver as well, his cock pulsating harder inside me. He grabbed me round the waist and pushed himself even further in. He let out a groan as I felt a warm explosion deep inside me. My body continued convulsing around his cock, absorbing the warm liquid. He grasped my waist and pulled me up into his arms. We held each other, neither of us moving for a long moment, then he relaxed. He slowly pulled out of me. I sat with my legs over the bench, my breathing still laboured from the incredible orgasm he had just given me.

He turned his back and did his pants up. I finally found my breath again.

“Mr. Jameson –”

He turned his head and smiled.

“Please, call me Jared.”

“Jared. Thank you. For the extra tuition.”

Jared winked at me. “You’ve definitely passed my class.”

And with that he was gone.

I got down from the bench and quickly put my bra and shirt back on. I found my underwear. They were soaking wet.

Next week Jared wouldn’t be here. I decided I’d been here long enough as well.

Today, high school graduation had come early.

Hot Seat

They say it’s lonely at the top, and it’s the truth. But, one has to weigh up the pluses and minuses, and while there have definitely been some sacrifices required to sit in this chair, ultimately they are outweighed by the pluses.

When I think back, I don’t know why I was in such a hurry to be the CEO. In my thirties, I told myself that by the time I was forty, I was gonna run this company. And I did. Still am, actually.

I’m forty-seven now, and I’ve had enough. It’s time to move on. There are a lot of things I want to do before I turn fifty that I can’t do while I’m here. I have decided to announce my resignation today, at my regular meeting with my senior leadership team.

I walk along the corridor back to my office—the corner office with the mahogany desk, leather couch and giant fish tank. I didn’t ask for that crap; I inherited it. My predecessor owned that stuff, and I never got round to replacing it—too damned busy fixing the mess he left behind. I still shake my head in disbelief at his fuckups. I run one of the country’s biggest food processing companies, and there’s no room for error when you deal with food; people can get sick, possibly even die. It was never proven, but this clown allowed stock to be released that contained bacteria, and people got sick—a baby died. My stomach still knots up when I think about it. Within one month of me being on the job, the shit hit the fan, and the media were all over us, me especially. How could such a thing happen, they asked, and did I feel bad, they asked. I felt like shit. But you can’t play the blame game when you’re CEO, you can’t say it’s not my fault, you have to own it; it was now my circus, my monkeys. Thank fuck there’s never been a repeat of that.

I can already feel the tension in my shoulders releasing, draining out as I walk the corridor, knowing I will be announcing my resignation soon. One of the hardest things about my job is the cool exterior that is required at all times, especially when I’m negotiating deals and dealing with idiots who just need a smack in the head. If my staff knew what goes through my head, if they knew how scared I am sometimes, they’d march me out of the building in disgust. But ultimately I love a challenge—when others see problems, I see challenges—and I have loved this challenge. I smile to myself, knowing my work here is done, and I will leave this place in the best place it’s ever been, and my smile widens, knowing I am leaving with someone…

And there she is. Nina. A senior member of my legal counsel. Nina is one of the reasons there’s never been a repeat of the bullshit my predecessor left behind. At only twenty-nine, she has a razor sharp mind. She anticipates problems before they happen, and she’ll chew anyone’s argument up and spit it out before they can even lay it out. She’s brilliant. I take in the view before me. Her blonde hair flowing across her shoulders, her exotic green eyes crowned by her exceptionally long eyelashes. She’s wearing a figure-hugging, black skirt suit that shows off her petite figure; it airs of sophistication and commands respect. Her black stilettos lengthen her perfectly tanned legs. She has the hottest tits and ass I’ve ever seen. And the best part, she’s fucking me.

Because in the last six months I decided to break one of my cardinal rules, I dipped my quill into the company ink. And it’s been worth every moment.

Nina grins when she sees me.

“Hey, boss.”

“Hi, Nina, how are you?” I reply.

I make sure I don’t look overly delighted to see her, this facade I must maintain when there are people around is both exciting and exhausting. I open the door and hold it open for her as she steps through. I discreetly check out her sweet ass as she walks past me, I’m tempted to give it a friendly tap, but I resist; it would just be my luck someone saw it and everything would be over. When you’re the CEO, your every move is scrutinised. I am more than happy to do things like holding the door open for someone, but you never want to be accused of favouritism, and you especially don’t want to be known as ‘that guy’ who sleazes onto the ladies by overtly checking them out, laying on unnecessary compliments or being a nuisance. The tone of the boss is the tone of the company, and I don’t want anyone else thinking they can do that either, with the exception of Nina, who can sexually harass me as much as she wants—in private.

Ten minutes till my meeting with the senior staff, where I will tell them I’m leaving. But I’m already distracted. Nina’s hot ass struts ahead of me above her black stilettos.

“Nina, have you got a moment?” I ask.

“Sure,” she replies, following me to my office.

I still pinch myself that Nina is in love with me, and the way it happened. When you become the CEO of a well-known company, you do get a big spike in women who are suddenly interested in you, but if you’ve got any brains, you know it’s because of the prestige of your job, and the big salary. I even made it to number two in a newspaper poll of the country’s hottest CEO’s, which was pretty strange—you don’t anticipate that sort of coverage when you take the job! But Nina is not interested in any of that. She had already made her first million by twenty-one, importing an exotic flower that dumb rich bastards pay through the nose to have in their foyers. By age twenty-four, she’d left a big impression with her skills at a top law firm and became one of the most sought-after lawyers in town. She certainly doesn’t need me. She’s completely different to my ex-wife, who left me two years ago after twenty-one years together. She was a lazy bitch. Smart, but lazy. In the end, all she did was play tennis and spend my money. I don’t know what bothered me most, when I found out the guy she’s now with had been fucking her when she was still with me, or my utter indifference to it. I guess the neglect of my marriage was one of the prices I paid when I took this job. But if I’m truly honest, the ex and I had drifted apart even before that, and neither of us cared enough to do anything about it.

Some of my contemporaries passed me the numbers of high end prostitutes. Many guys in my position see these girls, especially when they’re out of town. I’ll admit I did it once, toward the end of my marriage. I thought it was a waste of money, not to mention very false. I had met her for drinks, where she pretended she found me interesting, as her body dripped with all the jewellery men had bought for her. One of the rings I recognised had belonged to the wife of one of my clients. I notice stuff like that, I’m a details guy. We went back to my hotel room where she began moaning and groaning under me, pretending I was some Adonis. I know I’m good, but I’m not that good, especially after just five seconds! It might do it for some guys, but for me it’s just like any other business deal—cold. I wonder what she bought with the two thousand bucks I paid her. There’s nothing like fucking a woman who genuinely wants you for you, and I hadn’t had that in years. Until what happened next.

By then I had started to really notice Nina—every guy does—but she was a lot younger than me and I didn’t think I stood a chance. I had to accept she was a girl I could look at but never touch. She was also dating a bonehead property developer. I will never know what she saw in that guy; he was a no good scumbag who built shoddy apartment buildings that leaked. I think he liked that Nina was good at keeping him out of court. So imagine my disgust one night when I was in a restaurant and I saw this bonehead making out with a trashy looking woman in the corner that definitely wasn’t Nina. I thought it might have been a one off, but I started going there regularly to meet a client and I noticed the bonehead was there regularly as well, each time with a different woman. I wanted to knock him out, but I did something smarter. I started taking recordings on my phone. Eventually I decided to show them to Nina.

She was quiet at first, didn’t say a word. Then she just stormed out of my office. She didn’t come to work for the rest of the week. Next thing I got a call from the bonehead, who called me a bunch of names. I told him to go fuck himself and hung up the phone. As far as I’m concerned, if someone makes their bed they can lie in it, though I secretly hoped his ex-girlfriend would end up lying in mine.

She finally called me to say thanks. And I had been thinking about her, a lot. I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me. My heart rate quickened with dread when she didn’t answer right away, I thought she was going to say no, then thankfully she finally agreed. We went out for dinner, and something in the wind had definitely changed. The sexual tension between us was so strong I could barely hold the champagne bottle as I refilled her glass, especially with her hand running up my thigh. We ended up going home before our dessert arrived, only we didn’t make it home. As soon as we were in my car I was on top of her in the passenger seat. We fucked right there in the carpark, then went back to my place and continued. We’ve been together ever since.

Anyway, Nina follows me into my office and I close the door. I sweep her up around the waist. Her mouth meets mine and my dick swells against her, I end up on top of her on the couch.

“Alex?” Bev, my executive assistant buzzes me.

“Yes?” I grunt, my hands full of Nina’s tits.

Bev informs me of an urgent phone message, and some papers I must read before my staff meeting in now eight minutes.

“Shall I bring them in?” she asks.

I get off Nina. “Yes, bring them in,” I reply, begrudgingly.

I stand up and pour myself a glass of water. I know Bev knows what I’ve been doing with Nina. I may have hidden it from everyone else, but Bev misses nothing. She’s been in the job for 20 years, and she’s the assistant every CEO needs. No nonsense and ahead of everything I’m doing, and loyal to a tee. I know I can count on Bev to keep this to herself. I take the papers she hands over; if she knows what we’ve just been doing, she doesn’t let on.

I have another meeting at two o’clock with the legal team that will include Nina. My dick twitches at the thought that afterwards, we might be able to finish where we left off.

Most people keep compliments for the boss to themselves, so when I announce my resignation I am genuinely touched by the response. There was dead silence, then sad, angry exclamations. “You can’t leave!” said one. “This place will never be the same!” said another. “It’s gonna go to the dogs!” said someone else. Bev started crying.

I’m not the most emotional guy around, but I had to swallow a lump in my throat. I wasn’t expecting them to react like this, because when I kick ass, I kick hard, and I’ve done it to every one of them over the years. I told them my plans to start a new business, leaving out the part that Nina was going to be my business partner. They will find that out later, when we announce our relationship.

“Take us with you!” a few of them said.

I walk out of that meeting feeling very flattered. None of my people are yes people; they’d never blow wind up anyone’s ass, so it was pretty damn nice knowing they hadn’t secretly hated me all this time for driving them so hard.

My two o’clock meeting with the legal team can’t come quick enough, and when it’s finished, I wanna get out of here and fuck Nina silly. Bev will come up with a good reason why I have to leave early.

I get to the boardroom at two that afternoon. Nina is already in there, sitting on the table. I close the door behind me.

“Where’s everyone else?” I ask.

“They’ll be here at two-thirty,” she replies, looking at me, like a minx.

Her eyes drop to my crotch.

“Come here...” she breathes.

“You know the rules!” I growl.

“Fuck the rules. I want you to come here and fuck me.”

She’s sitting there with her legs hanging over the table, the heels of her stilettos balancing on the arm of a chair. She slowly parts her legs, and her hairless, wet pussy greets me. My dick instantly snaps toward the ceiling, straining against my pants.

“Nina...” I growl again.

But I know it’s hopeless. She’s got me. It takes me about three seconds to imagine all the scenarios of what will happen to me if we get caught in here, all my hard work will be for nothing as I depart the disgraced CEO who got caught with his pants down with a staff member, in the boardroom. And I think: fuck it. Neither of us are married, and we’re both leaving. And the biggest thing, I know most people will be quite forgiving. They might think I’m weak, but geez, anyone with red blood will look at Nina and go weak as well, then be quietly jealous.

And weak I am, in my knees, as I strut toward her. I shove the chair out of the way and get between her legs, pulling her towards my boner.

I grab her white shirt around the collar and rip it open; buttons hit the table as they snap off her shirt. Her shirt and jacket come off pretty fast and when I whip her bra off her amazing tits fall out. I toss the bra on the table and rub my hands over her tits. I can never get enough of these tits. I take one in my mouth, sucking her nipple as it hardens under my tongue, at the same time I put my hand between her legs, her warm wetness sticking to my fingers. She grabs my belt and starts to undo my pants, but I push her hands away. I want to do something else first.

Her skirt is up around her waist now, and I push her knees apart, wide apart so her delicious wet pussy is now completely exposed. She knows what I want to do, and she lies back on the table, her back already arching in anticipation, she widens her legs even further, presenting her pussy to me. I drop to my knees and bury my face between her thighs, my dick almost exploding, knowing I will be putting it in here very soon.

Nina writhes around on the table, her beautiful smooth pink pussy mound pounds in my mouth as I swirl my tongue all over it, then I push my tongue down on her clit, which triggers her into another gear. She wraps her legs around my neck, digging her heels into my back. This turns me on even more, and I take her clit between my teeth. This tips her over the edge, her clit shudders between my teeth, and she comes in my mouth. Pussy juice secretes from her mound, covering my tongue. She releases my head from between her thighs, pushes my head away and sits up. I stand up, somehow. My knees still weak as hell, and for a brief moment I ask myself what the hell I will do if someone barges in here, and I remind myself I don’t give a shit.

My dick is now harder than a rock, straining more than ever to be let out. Nina takes care of that. Still sitting on the table with her skirt around her waist, she grabs my belt again and starts to undo it. She looks up at me like a lioness about to devour her prey, her nostrils flaring, exhaling hard as she releases the beast in my pants.

My dick flies out into her hand. She grabs it and gets off the table.

“Sit down,” she commands.

I put my hand behind me and clamber for one of the chairs; she doesn’t take her hand off my cock as I quickly sit down. She straddles my knees and looks me in the eye as she strokes me off, planting her mouth on mine for a moment, my tongue rolling against hers as my dick swells and throbs in her hand as she rubs it down.

“You are the hottest man alive,” she breathes in my ear.

Man this lady is good for my ego! She gets off me and drops to her knees, finally takes me in her mouth. All the way in, to the back of her throat. Wow. Her multiple skills never cease to amaze me.

Nina gives the best head I’ve ever had. She wanks my dick at the base as she swirls her tongue all over it, flicking it over and around my bulging head as she cups my balls in her other hand, gently squeezing as they pulse in her palm.

This is too much; I’m gonna explode in her mouth before I can fuck her. I grab her by the hair, and pull her mouth off my cock. “Sit on the table,” I command hoarsely.

She does as she’s told and reprises her original position. As soon as I’m between her legs again, my dick dives straight into its favourite place. Nina moans as my dick slams inside her, completely knocking her back onto the table. Her head hits the table with a light thump, and she quickly wraps her legs around my waist, her pussy clamping around my cock. She’s turned me into an animal, and I start to fuck her like a mad man. Her tits fly up toward her face and down again and again as I bang the hell out of her.

“Alex!” she gasps, again and again.

I grit my teeth as her pussy gets tighter and tighter around my cock, at the same time she gets wetter and wetter as I slam it in and out. She finally comes, and her pussy shudders all around my ferocious dick. She writhes around the table in a silent scream, her chest convulsing up and down, then I finally come as well. It takes all I have not to let out a roar as my dick erupts inside her.

We both remain stationary for a moment, catching our breath. I feel her knees loosen around my waist. She reaches up and strokes my face; I kiss her slender white hand, my chest still heaving.

I hear a gasp. I look at her. She looks at me. It didn’t come from her, or myself. Suddenly we hear many other gasps, in unison. We freeze.

I slowly turn my head. My entire legal team stands at the door, with their mouths hanging open. Jolene, Nina’s boss, and my Head of Legal, stands staring at us with her chin almost at the floor, her hand stuck to the door handle.

We all stand motionless for a few seconds, as they stand confronted with the full view of my bare black ass between Nina’s tanned stilettoed legs.

“Come back in five minutes!” I bark.

Jolene slams the door shut. Silence.

I pull my dick out of Nina, and collapse back on the chair. Then I burst out laughing. Oh, man, my tenure here will never be forgotten.

And I wouldn’t change a thing.

The Long Kiss Goodnight

My husband and I have always had a neon light shower rose installed in our bathroom. Our kids love it, they love the shining lights when they’re in there. But we like it for quite a different reason. I told my husband I once had a roommate who had a neon light in her shower, and that’s where I got the idea from. This is true, but I haven’t quite told him the whole story.

It all started ten years ago when I was still in college. I had been dating Mike—who later became my husband—for two years. Unfortunately, our relationship hit the rocks for a while, and I moved out of our apartment. We were separated for nine months, and I moved into a place nearby with a girl named Clare.

Clare was studying film and media, and I wouldn’t say we particularly got along that well. She was just obsessed with film, and if she wasn’t studying them, she was watching them. I like films too, but one can only take Sergio Leone westerns or Quentin Tarantino’s rapid dialogue on full blast again and again for so long, before you get pretty tired of it. She never went out, and she used to get angry if I had friends over, because it interrupted her film watching. If she had friends over, the living room would be full of film nuts watching one movie after another, who would then usually get drunk and leave the place a mess in the morning. Clare never did any cleaning, so I would have to clean the mess, too, which also made her angry because she said it distracted her from the screen.

So when Clare told me her older brother Gabe would be staying over for a few nights, I was not very enthused. Apparently, he had been living in New Zealand, but was coming back for their mom’s fiftieth birthday. He was stopping over in California to see his sister, then they would both go on to their parents’ house in New Jersey.

Clare wasn’t home when her brother arrived; by that time, she had finally gotten herself a boyfriend and was spending a lot of time over at his place. When I heard the doorbell, I remember groaning inwardly. I was not looking forward to meeting anyone in Clare’s family, and I was pissed off she wasn’t there, she should have been home to greet her brother.

When I opened the door, I had to blink twice. Standing before me was the best looking man I had ever seen. He stood casually with his arm up against the doorframe, wearing a black shirt and black jeans. He was in his late twenties, and his thick, black hair sat in waves on his head, accentuated by a sharp hairline and a widow’s peak. His grey blue eyes looked straight into mine. I’m not sure how long I stood there staring at him, but it must’ve been long enough for him to clear his throat.

“Hi, uh, is this Clare’s place?”

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I stumbled.

“I’m her brother, Gabe,” he said, extending his hand. “You must be Lyanna?”

At first I just stared at his hand, then quickly realised he meant for me to shake it. I put my hand in his. His touch sent a shock through me, I couldn’t even breathe.

“Uh, do you mind if I come in?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, of course!” I said, quickly stepping out of the way.

Gabe dragged his bags and suitcase into the apartment. I was so embarrassed, he must have thought I was so weird, just standing there staring at him like an idiot. I suddenly became even more aware of how I looked; I had been for a run earlier and hadn’t showered yet. I was still wearing my lycra shorts and top which must’ve reeked of sweat. My makeup was smudged and my hair was sticking to my head.

Thankfully, Gabe didn’t appear to notice; instead he stood looking at the state of the living room; Clare and her boyfriend had had friends over the night before and the place looked like a bomb site. Empty beer bottles and pizza boxes littered the entire floor. Gabe raised his eyebrows and looked at me with a slight smile.

“My sister?” he asked.

I laughed awkwardly, it was the only audible sound I could make in this beautiful man’s presence.

“Nothing’s changed,” he said, moving to pick up an empty pizza box.

He grabbed a garbage bag and started to clean up the mess. We only had a two- bedroom apartment, so Gabe was going to be sleeping on the couch, and he clearly didn’t intend to sleep amongst such a mess. I started to give him a hand.

“I admire you already,” he said smiling at me. “I couldn’t live with Clare.”

I laughed again, trying to think of something interesting to say. “Would you like some coffee?” I asked him. It was the best I could think of at that moment.

“I would love one,” he replied. “Black with two sugars.”

I went to the kitchen and started up Clare’s coffee machine. I usually burned the beans when I used this thing, I hoped I wouldn’t this time. He took the coffee and sat down on the couch. I was delighted when he invited me to join him.

If the coffee tasted burned, Gabe didn’t mention it. He was a very friendly and chatty guy. He told me about living in New Zealand, how he was working as a set designer in the film industry over there. He had worked on films like Lord of the Rings and King Kong. Obviously the love of film ran in their family. It was music to my ears when he said he had recently separated from his girlfriend.

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” he asked me.

“No, not since last year,” I replied, hoping there was a good reason why he was asking me that.

At that moment his sister arrived home. Gabe gave her a warm embrace, and gave her shit for living like a pig. They then left to go out for dinner, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And my thoughts were all about Gabe.

I had been so focussed on my studies I hadn’t even thought about men or sex since my separation, which was over six months ago. Now, sex was all I could think about. At that moment I wanted to have sex with Gabe more than anything. I imagined myself in bed with him, writhing beneath him as he thrusted deep and hard inside me. I could feel myself getting wet between my legs.

I suddenly found a bad curiosity to look in Clare’s bedroom. Just the fact that she shared Gabe’s blood now made her far more interesting.

I opened the door to her room. Her bedroom resembled the living room after one of her film binges, the bed was unmade and covered with clothes and empty food packets. So was the floor. There were even clothes hanging over the lamp. I went into her ensuite bathroom, which was just as disgusting. All the towels on the floor created a gross stench of dampness. But I was very curious about her shower. She had mentioned to me she had a neon shower head that gleamed red, blue and green when she used it. I turned off the light, and turned on the shower. As soon as the water started to run the room was filled with a soft blue glow. I had no doubt Gabe would use this shower. I could see earlier that he worked out, his pecs stuck out and his biceps had tightened under his shirt as I watched him clean up the mess in the living room. My breath started to quicken as I imagined him in here, the water splashing all over his hard naked muscular body. The steam began to rise. The wetness between my legs returned. As if on cue the light turned red, reflecting the hot blood now pounding between my thighs as I imagined being in this shower with Gabe, caressing me in the steam, as the water and soft light washed over us.

I was very tempted to actually get in, but I quickly turned the shower off instead. It would just be my luck that Clare might have forgotten something and would come back unexpectedly. I exited her room, closing the door behind me.

I didn’t see much of Gabe over the next couple of days; I was attending class and he was out catching up with old friends. But he was home each evening to have a meal with Clare. He was always friendly and asked me lots of questions about myself, something most guys I’d dated didn’t do. It did feel as though there could be something between us, but it was still hard to tell. Each night he would excuse himself to use the shower, which would distract me from anything I was doing. I was very pleased when I overheard him tell Clare he had cleaned up her bathroom, he couldn’t stand the state of it. At least I could now imagine myself in there with him without those old towels on the floor, ruining the atmosphere.

The day was coming when I knew he would be leaving. And I had decided I was going to tell him how I felt. I just hoped an opportunity would present itself where I could do so, I was counting on Clare being at her boyfriend’s one night of the weekend. I was right, Clare left after dinner on Saturday to go to her boyfriend’s.

Gabe put on Lord of the Rings after she left, and invited me to join him on the couch. I was glad the movie was playing, and that he was very enthusiastic about pointing out every scene that featured something he had worked on, because I had the worst case of cotton mouth imaginable. I didn’t really hear much of what he was saying. I am not really a Lord of the Rings fan, and I was very distracted. The movie finally finished, and he poured us both a glass of wine.

“What type of movies do you like?” he asked me.

As I had been studying for over three years, I had barely watched anything during that time, so I could only think of ones I had seen when I was still in my mid-teens.

“Um, I really like films like Basic Instinct, Wild Things, and Cruel Intentions. That type of thing,” I replied.

“Really? Why do you like those films?” he asked.

“I like thrillers.”

“There’s a lot of sex in those films,” he stated, slowly.

My heart skipped a beat at hearing him use the word ‘sex’, I hadn’t even thought of that when I’d rattled off those titles.

“Is that why you like them?” he asked.

His eyes were boring into mine, but I didn’t want to assume anything. Yet, I had never felt more sexual in my life. I stared straight back at him. I wanted this conversation to lead further on the subject.... hopefully beyond the subject....

“It could be,” I replied.

“They all feature women having sex with other women, or at least making out with women. What do you like? Men or women? Or both?”

I raised my arm to the top of the couch, letting the wine swirl around in my glass.

“Just men,” I replied, crossing my leg toward him.

I saw him eyeing my bare leg; I was wearing my black lycra shorts and a tight white singlet, even though I hadn’t been for a run that day.

“Ever been with a woman?” he asked huskily.

“No,” I replied.

“Ever wanted to?”

“Not so far.”

I could now feel the air had completely changed between us, the sexual tension was so strong, I was no longer aware of anything else.

“What about you?” I finally asked him huskily.

“Just girls,” he replied. “Women.”

I waited for him to make a move, but he didn’t.

“So what’s your favourite sex scene in those movies?” he asked me.

“Matt Dillon pouring champagne over Denise Richards breasts,” I said. “Then licking it off...”

He smiled at me, raising his glass to his lips.

“What else?” he asked.

I had to think for a moment, which was a bit difficult. He still wasn’t taking his eyes off me.

“I really like the scene in The Specialist where Sharon Stone gets fucked by Sylvestor Stallone in the shower.”

“I see,” he said quietly.

“What about you?” I asked.

I could see him thinking. I could feel the wetness seeping between my thighs at the thought of where this might go.

“I have to admit, I really like that scene as well,” he finally replied. “Along with Matt and Denise and that bottle of champagne.”

By now I could hear his breath had really started to quicken, which was matching my own. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was just about to lean over and kiss him, when he spoke again.

“What do you think of the wine?”

His eyes were burning into mine again. My mind wasn’t on the wine.

“It’s good,” I replied huskily. “Pinot gris?”

“It is. Ever tasted it out of the glass?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

He slowly picked up the wine bottle, and brought it toward me. I was still holding my almost empty glass in front of my chest. He stared into my eyes as he poured the wine. The wine kept flowing after it met the top of the glass, and began to spill over the brim. I slowly let the glass tip toward me, as he raised the bottle higher and it began to splash on my face. I threw my head back and caught the last few drops on my tongue. Gabe placed the bottle back on the coffee table then sat back, looking at the liquid that had landed all over on my chest, which was now completely soaked through my white singlet. The wine had been chilled, and my nipples had hardened from the cold. I could see he was impressed.

“It’s become very hot and sticky in here,” he began. “I really need a shower now.”

He winked at me as he rose from the couch, placing his empty wine glass on the coffee table. I watched him leave the room as he headed toward Clare’s ensuite.

He left her bedroom door open, and the bathroom door. He didn’t turn on the lights, and as I watched from the couch I heard the shower start up. The blue neon light shone through from the bathroom. It wasn’t long before steam started to emanate through to the bedroom. I was waiting for him to call me, but he didn’t. The blue light was beckoning me. I finally stood from the couch, and started walking toward it. It felt like the blue light had put me in a trance.

I reached the bathroom, but I didn’t go in.

“Gabe?” I croaked.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Clare borrowed some of my shampoo yesterday,” I lied. “I really need it back.”

“Well, you better come get it, then,” he said.

I stepped into the bathroom. By now the steam was swirling through the air, the mirror was completely covered in residue. I couldn’t see him clearly through the glass of the shower, only a dark muscular male figure amongst the steam. I felt my heart beat even faster as I saw him turning around.

“Could you please pass me that towel?”

I don’t even remember getting the towel, I just remember the shower door opening, and his hand reaching for it, and his touch as he went to take it from me. I felt the towel drop to the floor between our fingers, as his fingers touched mine.

As if on cue, the light suddenly turned red. The heat exploded between my legs, and his hand pulled me forward. The hot water covered my face the same moment his lips covered mine, his tongue entering my mouth, rolling over my own. His raging hard cock bulged against me, pushing against my lycra shorts. My clothes were immediately drenched right through. His mouth dropped to my neck as he held me tightly in his amazing muscular arms, one hand tight on my ass, his mouth sucking on my neck so hard I cried out from both the pleasure and the pain. His mouth met mine again as he started to peel off my lycra singlet, pulling up my bra at the same time, making my tits pop out. He caressed my tits as he looked me deep in the eyes.

“I have wanted to do this with you since the moment you opened the front door,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” I whispered back, my mouth melting into his again.

His head dropped to my chest and he started to lick the wine off my tits.

“This wine tastes so much better than it did in the glass,” he whispered.

I reached down and grasped his cock in my hand, it was the biggest, hardest cock I had ever felt. It throbbed in my hand as I stroked him up and down. I felt his hands move back to my ass, he started peeling down my shorts. As I stepped out of them, his hand met my soaking wet pussy, and he easily slipped two fingers inside and fucked me hard. I gasped into his shoulder as my clit pressed against his palm, sliding along it as I grinded my hips. Soft moans escaped my mouth as I felt the flesh between my legs burn to a new degree against his hand, which was now so slippery from my wetness I could feel it start to drip down my legs. I gripped his cock harder as he released a moan of his own. I felt him remove his fingers from inside me; I looked up into his eyes, silently in angst from the sudden removal; I could feel my bud still throbbing, begging for his return. I saw his hand reach behind him, and he flicked the shower tap. I gasped as the water turned ice cold. He smiled at me, then thumbed my already rock hard nipples, which were now harder than ever from the blast of fresh cold water. He lowered his head, and took my nipple into his mouth again. I ran my hand through his thick black hair as he sucked harder until my entire breast was almost in his mouth.

He released my nipple and moved to the other, which was now also rock hard in anticipation. As my nipple met his tongue a shot of fire went through me and exploded between my legs, my bud throbbing so hard now I was aching.

“You have the most amazing tits,” he breathed.

He finally dropped to his knees. Knowing where he was going, my heart began to pound more blood downwards. He pulled my leg up over his shoulder, and clutching my ass with both hands, I felt his tongue sink into the silky wet flesh between my legs. My raging hot pussy melted into his mouth. I moaned loudly as his tongue separated my folds, soaking up my wetness, my fingers running through his thick wet hair. I threw my head back as his tongue worked my pussy, flicking all over it and diving in and out of me; I had never felt such pleasure in my life.

The cold water only seemed to enhance the heat that was raging through all my pink parts, especially where his mouth was. The neon light shone from red to green as he sucked on my clit, running his tongue over it in circular motions, making my back lurch forward and my head fall back. Just as I thought I was going to explode in his mouth, I gasped as the water turned hot again. Gabe got out from under my leg and came up to kiss me again. Normally I didn’t like a man kissing me when he had just been going down on me, but everything felt amazing with this man. The blue light washed over us with the spray of the water, the steam rising to the ceiling.

I had to taste his cock. I held him at the base and dropped to my knees. His cock got even harder in my hand as I held him steady, then I gently took him into my mouth. His cock was amazing. I ran my tongue all over his swollen head and 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 bulging head. The water from the shower rose spilled down my back as he ran his hand over my hair.

“You are incredible,” he breathed.

Then he grabbed my hair and pulled me up. His beautiful 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 against the glass of the shower. My hands were hard against the glass, and then I felt it, his cock entering me from behind. His cock filled me entirely, and then some, stretching me out. My lips quivered as his hands took my hips.

Gabe held me by the hips as he started to thrust into me. I gasped at the sensations as I moved with his rhythm, waves of pleasure washing over me. His hand moved up to my breast as the rhythm got faster and harder, harder and faster, we started to get louder with our moans. I did briefly wonder what his sister would think if she came back early and heard us, but neither of us cared. My pussy swallowed Gabe’s cock deep inside me and gripped around it as it slid in and out. I felt his hand slide down from my hip to my pussy, and his finger met my clit. I clenched his dick hard as he massaged my clit and thumbed my nipple. I could feel myself starting to climax, my knees began to shake. He pressed my clit harder and held my waist steady with the other hand as I started to spasm. My head flew back and met his shoulder as he moaned softly into the side of my neck.

Then I felt the blast of cold water again, and we were engulfed in a blue light. This tipped us both over the edge. He wrapped both arms around my waist 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 leaned against the glass on the opposite side of the shower, trying to catch his breath. As he turned the water to a warmer temperature I turned my head and faced him, the light turned green as he pulled me into his arms. I could’ve stood there forever, as the water and beautiful lights washed over us.

“Is this what they call the long kiss goodnight?” I asked him.

“Could be. But I hope it’s not the last,” he replied.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked him softly.

“Hanging out with you.”

“What shall we do?”

He kept holding me, his hand stroking my back.

“We could watch another movie?”

“Which one?” I asked.

“Hmm, I’ve got water on my mind. How about Singing in the Rain?”

I laughed. I didn’t know anything about that film except that it was really old.

“Are there any wet scenes in it like this one?”

“Uh, not really...” he replied, laughing. “Maybe we should stick to thrillers. I’d like to see Wild Things again.”

“I might need a shower first,” I replied.

“I think I will as well,” he laughed. “A long one!”

We both laughed, and he kissed me deeply.

I did hang out with him the next day, and we did have another amazing shower together. But after he went with his sister to New Jersey for their mom’s fiftieth birthday. I never saw him again. He sent me an email after he returned to New Zealand, saying he loved our time together but he’d got back together with his ex. Two months later Clare told me she was going to their wedding. Clare moved out not long after to live with her boyfriend, and I never saw her again either.

A few weeks later I got back with Mike. We were able to work out our differences, and then we married as well. As painful as our separation was, it needed to happen. But we both grew and learned a lot of things about ourselves while we were apart.

And I certainly enjoyed what I learned about showers and neon lights.

Lullaby Baby

What is it about a musician that is so powerfully alluring? What other man can cause women to faint at the mere sight of them in person, overcome with lust?

They say men are turned on by what they see, women are turned on by what they hear. That’s why the snake spoke to Eve in the Garden of Eden; he knew the power of words over a woman.

I can hear my husband singing, his rich tenor voice flowing out of the open windows of our house, through the leaves of the trees as I lie here by the fishpond, almost naked apart from my black see-through silk gown.

I was told my marriage would never last, and maybe it won’t. I am married to one of the most desired men in the world. Maybe eventually he will tire of me, or I of him, and if that happens, I will not stay or make him stay, such a thing cannot be forced. But for now, here I am, and here we are, and we crave each other now just as much as we did when we met eight years ago.

I don’t think he knows I’m home. He’s just returned from four months straight on tour, and I told him I’d be out meeting my editor, but she was sick today and our meeting was cancelled. What an odd couple we must appear to others, one of the world’s biggest rock stars, married to a bestselling author of suspense crime novels.

But writing is writing, and that is how we bonded. I fell in love with his words before I met him, and he fell in love with mine before he met me. When we finally met at a charity ball, it was love at first sight.

Daniel is thirty-seven now, five years older than I. It’s amazing we’re both still alive. When we met, there was another thing that bonded us, our love of drugs, especially cocaine. And we would sniff it up together like there was no tomorrow, then fuck and fuck and fuck like there was no tomorrow. But when you mix cocaine with everything else, like we were doing, eventually there will be no tomorrow. We both overdosed and almost didn’t make it.

We came clean together, and believe me when I say there is nothing more pure, nothing that makes you higher, than making love straight, when you know your love is as pure as mine is for him and his is for me.

I come down to the garden when I’m struggling for inspiration with my writing. The gardeners don’t work on weekends, so I can lie here in any state I please. The trickling of the waterfall flowing over the rocks at the end of the pond soothes my frustrations.

My contract commands I must produce two novels a year. I get told they are brilliant; maybe they are, but no one knows the process in which I write, the raging doubts in my own mind—whether my work is good enough, the writer’s block which lasts for days, sometimes weeks. It nearly drives me insane. But my husband understands. Every song he releases is a hit. He makes it look easy, but like me, he is a perfectionist. No one sees the process we go through in refining our work, trying to reach perfection.

Whatever this song is he is singing now, it sounds as perfect as it will ever be. He plays his electric guitar as he belts out his notes, the licks and flicks of his fingers strumming the guitar strings carry through the wind as I lie back on the grass. My silk nightgown lies open, my nipples harden as his voice washes over me.

The stone stares of the marble mermaids in the middle of the pond watch me as though they are stifling naughty smiles. The sun beats down, the cicadas sing and the sparrows call to each other across our garden, but Daniel’s voice reigns. A film director could not have arranged a more perfect scene than the one I currently reside in. I feel myself start to drift off, listening to his voice.

I imagine him sitting there, in his music room, overlooking the ocean. He’ll be hovered over his guitar, wearing his black singlet, the guitar sitting between his tanned muscular arms as he holds the neck in one hand and strums the strings in the other. His long brown hair covering his face, which will be contorted in concentration. This image has made me very hot between my legs. I run my red-tipped, manicured hand over my breast, down over my stomach, until it reaches the hot bare flesh between my thighs. But this isn’t enough; his hand is what I need there.

I rise from my place in the garden and head toward the house, the breeze blowing my silk nightgown behind me, above it my long hair flows.

Even after all this time I still get butterflies when I am about to see my husband, the adoration I feel for him never leaves. The butterflies in the garden have started flitting around behind me, following me toward the house, I feel like I am in a dream.

I realise the music has stopped. I know what this means, it means he is writing lyrics. I stop walking. As polite as he would be if I interrupt him, I know where his mind will be, and it will not waiver fully until he has finished. For now I am better off staying where I am.

I run the tips of my fingers over the thorns of the rose bushes, I break off one of the roses and run its head of petals over my breasts. The red folds of the flower resemble the folds between my legs where red blood continues to swell.

I get to the huge willow tree in the middle of the garden, and I walk through the curtain of willow leaves that reach the ground. The swing under the tree is my favourite place. Swinging through the air, as the willow tree hides me, is one of the most magical feelings I have ever had. I take the seat and begin to soar through the air.

The press call me “the wife, as mysterious as the characters in her books,” but the real truth is a lot simpler than that. I am simply incredibly shy. The very reason I became an author was so I could avoid working in a job with other people, my unexpected success was a lucky by-product of my shyness. I force myself to go to events like book signings, but it is never easy. Only my husband knows of the panic attacks I get around people I do not know well. I was having one the night we met, outside in the garden of the ballroom. He knew what was wrong. When I asked him how he knew, he replied he had picked it up in my books. As far as I’m aware no one else has ever had the insight to see that far into me. He held me in his arms that night, I had never felt so safe in my life.

I close my eyes and hold my head back as the swing soars through the air. I try and concentrate on the plot twist required for my latest novel, the one that has had me stumped for the last two weeks, but I remain distracted by the man I know is in the house. Four months away from him has left me aching, a dim ache that starts in the pit of my stomach and spreads upwards into my heart, and down in between my thighs. Staying outside knowing he is back is almost unbearable, but the anticipation also titillates me higher.

Then I hear him again. This time at the piano. If ever there is a grand instrument it is the grand piano, and I can hear Daniel sitting at the black grand in our living room. I start to slow down on the swing, as I listen to his fingers run over the keys, making the most beautiful sound you could ever hear. I’ve not heard this song before, but the melody is so powerful it causes me to stop breathing. I never stop being incredulous at my husband’s talent, which appears to have no end.

The beauty of his song is making me go into a trance. I wander back toward the house in a slight daze, and hot anticipation, for what I have been missing for four months.

As I get to the house, I pull my silk nightgown closed and draw the cord. I follow the sound of the notes from the piano. And finally I see him. He sits at the piano, eyes closed, hair halfway over his face, his fingers dancing over the black and white keys. My eyes rise to the ceiling, where I can see him in the reflection in the huge ceiling mirror that sits above the piano. I lean against the door frame; I feel my face start to smile as I watch him work. He finally comes to the end of his song, and he collapses over the piano, catching his breath.

He soon realises he isn’t alone in the room, and he lifts his head. I hadn't realised my silk robe had parted as I stood against the door frame. He looks at me, his eyes taking in my exposed breast in the robe, my bare pussy framed by the parted black silk, standing completely in the open. His face starts to crack into a smile; it’s that twisted white grin that never fails to send a surge of heat into my chest and then down between my legs. I start walking toward him. I cannot talk; if I did, no sound would come. I am too overcome with passion to say anything.

He catches me as I almost crash into him, our lips locking together. He pulls me onto his lap, he is already hard in his pants. His arms wrap around me, his hands running down my back over the black silk, through my long hair. He cups my ass. I grasp his head in my hands, running my fingers through his hair as he buries his face into my neck. The warmth of his breath as he smothers my neck with his mouth heats up the flesh between my legs, and my limbs start to go limp. His mouth lowers down to my chest, kissing between my breasts, then hungrily kissing all over them, taking my nipples between his lips. I let out a gasp as the sensations shoot through me as he sucks harder on my nipple. I stare up at the image above us, and get even hotter as I watch myself getting ravaged by this beautiful man.

I reach down and undo his belt and zipper, his cock springs out to greet me. He pulls me into another kiss as I stroke his amazing cock against my stomach. He wraps his arms around me, searching my mouth with his tongue. Then he hoists me up onto the piano, my ass meets the keys and makes a thunderous bass sound that coincides with my crying out in pleasure as his hand covers my pussy.

My husband has magic hands when it comes to his instruments, and he has magic hands when it comes to my body. I start to pant as he gently rubs my clit with his index finger, then slides two fingers inside me. His thumb rubs my clit in tight little circles as he fucks me with his fingers.

My pussy is now a pulsating mound, and I am dying for his cock to be inside it. I lean back into the piano, laying my head on the top, and pull his cock toward me. He removes his hand from my pussy and clasps me around the ass, and I feel his cock at my opening. I spread my legs wider to take him in. The head of his cock pushes inside, stretching me out until he is all the way inside me. The feeling of opening myself up and having his beautiful cock enter me never ceases to put me in a state of ecstasy.

I look up at into my husband’s eyes, still too overcome for words. His cock hardens even further inside me, I moan and bury my head in his neck. He holds me in his arms with one hand on the small of my back, his other arm around my shoulders, and he covers my mouth with his again, gripping me hard as he starts to thrust into me. I throw my head back as my ass gets slammed against the piano, the keys making small notes in response to my ass lifting up and down on top of them.

Daniel plants his mouth onto my neck again, setting me on fire as his lips smother the tender flesh under my chin, while his huge cock impales me against the piano, slamming in and out of me. His hand reaches up and clasps one of my breasts, his thumb stroking my nipple.

Then my ass slips downward a bit, and my g-spot is hit head on against the head of his cock as it plunges back into me. The sudden surge of extra pleasure shocks through my body, and again I am breathless, my pussy going from burning hot to a thrilled chill. It tightens around his cock so hard he can barely pull it out. I feel myself starting to quiver. It starts between my legs, then spreads to my joints, then expands to my entire being. Daniel is all too familiar with this, he can feel it coming.

He puts his hand behind my head and grips me hard, his other hand holding my ass still. My head is thrown backward as the orgasm hits me, I let out a scream as he holds me down by the hair as my chest thrashes up and down underneath him, my pussy convulsing all around his cock.

Then I feel him tighten all over, and he grips me even harder. We look deep into each other’s eyes, then his jaw tightens and his head flies back, and we’re both forced to look at the image of ourselves above us. My eyes lock with his above in the mirror, he is still for a moment, then it hits him and he shudders all over as I feel him explode inside me. This causes me to come again, my legs wrapping harder around his waist, squeezing him further into me.

Finally we come to the end, and he collapses his head against my chest, I wrap my arms around his neck, running my fingers over his hair. My silk gown is drenched, it sticks to my back as he runs his hands over it.

“Oh, my baby,” he whispers. “I have missed you so much.”

He kisses me again.

“I love you,” he breathes.

“I love you too, baby,” I breathe back. “Welcome home.”

I look above me again, and savour the image of the shy girl who just had the world’s most incredible orgasm with the world’s sexiest man, on top of a grand piano.

I lower my mouth to his and our lips lock in another kiss, and I smile quietly to myself.

I really am the luckiest woman on earth.

Miss Demeanour

My flatmate and colleague, Dave, has called me Miss Demeanour for the last four years. I wouldn’t let anyone else call me that, ’cause I am not ‘Miss’ anything, but I like Dave so he gets away with it. He calls me this because he says I get away with so much, but I never quite cross over into ‘felonies,’ as he calls it. I find it amusing how straight men have silly names for each other, I guess he considers me one of his best friends so this is my pet name, though sometimes he shortens it to Miss Demon. That’s probably more accurate.

Dave finds it amusing that I also score more straight chicks than he does. A lot more. Even I’m surprised sometimes. We both work at a leading restaurant where I am the maître’d and Dave is a chef. My job helps me score better I think, I’m right at the front of house so I deal with all the punters first.

Dave is correct that I get away with a lot. I regularly arrive late to work, I drink from the bar, if I’m serving, I slip my favourite customers free drinks, and if anyone starts causing trouble, I will not hesitate to haul their ass out of the restaurant with my own two hands.

Our customers love me, and I love them. I especially love fucking a lot of female customers.

I guess it’s not hard to tell I’m a dyke, with my short black haircut and diamond stud through my nose, and apparently I have quite a swagger, according to Dave. But I like being a bit feminine as well, and I wear a tailored white shirt that shows off my black bra underneath, with just enough buttons undone at the top to reveal some cleavage. But it’s not that that gets the ladies, I know it’s about my confidence. I’ve never been afraid to look anyone straight in the eye, and while I love a good joke, I take no shit from anyone. My father was a high ranking marine, and he taught me to be afraid of nobody. People were afraid of my father, but it was only because he had mastered how to carry himself, I certainly wasn’t afraid of him. He was a deadly son of a bitch, too, he could kill a man with his bare hands. He taught me this as well. I guess this also helps, you can size someone up and know how to instantly disable them, and when you emit this air, you receive automatic respect.

You see a lot in hospitality, especially when people have had a few too many glasses of their favourite poison, and by the end of the night, they’ve revealed who they really are. Our restaurant turns into a nightclub from about eleven at night, and that’s when all the fun begins.

It amuses the hell out of me when straight couples rock up to the restaurant for a romantic meal, and so often the woman has all eyes for me. The men are often quite wary, slightly intimidated by my air, but also slightly turned on that a chick who licks out chicks is so close to them. I feel them all watching me, the more booze they consume, the more they watch. Straight guys won’t try anything, except for a few who get really drunk, then they slink out of the joint after landing on their back after I’ve judo thrown them to the floor. But some straight women are seriously presumptuous. They follow me to the bathroom, they eye me up in the mirror, and depending on how much they’ve had to drink, sometimes they just move straight in for the pash and expect me to go into a cubicle with them.

Depending on how I’m feeling or how busy we are, I might take them up. But it also depends on attraction, just because I’m a dyke, doesn’t mean I’m into every broad I meet. These straight chicks don’t seem to get that.

Dave loves watching all of this when he’s finished cooking for the night and takes his usual seat at the bar. He doesn’t have the same confidence as me when it comes to approaching women. If I’m chatting one up and I can tell she’s definitely straight as an arrow, I’ll introduce her to Dave. He owes me big time for the amount of times he’s gotten lucky. I once showed him my box of toys I keep under the bed, which he calls my ‘toolbox’. When I opened the case he looked totally weirded out. It was so funny. He’s never asked to see it again.

Dave’s girlfriends never last longer than six months, the unsocial hours of a chef are a try on anyone’s patience. Every time he meets someone, he brings her home to me and asks me what I think. I can sum people up very fast, and I’m always honest. I will also always tell him when I get the ‘vibe’, and it happens a lot. He can see it for himself. I don’t bother going there with those girls, I know they are just bi-curious and it’s a waste of my time. Plus I don’t want to ruin my friendship with Dave. A lot of my dyke friends have made big mistakes in falling for straight girls who are bi-curious, and it just complicates their lives and ends in heartbreak. They lead you down the garden path by telling you that you’ve turned them, then they end up leaving you for a man.

I actually believe bi-curiosity goes all ways, though most in the gay community prefer to think they are immune to being seduced by a hot person of the opposite sex. It doesn’t always end up in the bedroom, but attraction is attraction. I know enough straight women who have had gay men hit on them, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes. And I certainly know enough gay guys who have straight men hit on them, straight musicians are the worst offenders, apparently. Me, I’ve always liked girls, but I did get curious about boys once. Twelve years ago, when I was seventeen, I was working with a chef who was a very fine looking specimen of a man. Even though I was gay, I could tell why women loved him, he was extremely good looking but also very charming. After a few drinks alone in the bar one night, I decided I wanted to give it a go. I leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. He was shocked, and I immediately felt weird. The kiss felt wrong, I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting his face to feel so hard and rough. Of course he didn’t know that, and after he got over his shock, he grabbed me and shoved his tongue straight down my throat. His tongue felt massive and hard in my mouth. I opened his pants and started whacking off his dick, which prompted him to put his hand down my pants. He rubbed my clit so hard it felt like sand paper. In the end I lowered my mouth to his dick to suck it, not because I particularly wanted to, but because I wanted to get his tongue out of my mouth and his hand off my cunt. I tried to suck his cock, I really did, but I just couldn’t keep doing it. It didn’t smell good, it didn’t taste good, and he pushed it down the back of my throat until I started gagging. And the main thing, I felt not one bit of attraction during all of this. In the end I wrenched my mouth away from his cock and ran away. From that moment on, I knew I definitely only liked girls. I texted him the next day, telling him he’d done nothing wrong, just that I’d made a bad mistake and I hoped we could still be friends, but I got another job soon after, and I never saw him again.

But we all have a type, and my type is definitely petite blondes, femmes as butch dykes like me refer to them. And we get a lot of femmes rolling through our restaurant. Usually they are accompanied by tough football, racing, beer-drinking type guys.

It’s interesting watching these types of couples. Often the woman is so completely taken by the man she doesn’t take her eyes off him. She tries to make conversation all night. She strokes his wrist, and goes to the bathroom regularly to check she’s still pretty. All the while the man’s eyes have long glazed over even before he sits down. He spends the evening grunting replies through his meal and discreetly checks out other women that look like the one he’s with. The checking out of other women gets less and less discreet the more he drinks.

The chicks with these men don’t notice me, they’re too infatuated with their men to notice anyone else. In the end they leave, trailing behind their man looking dejected—again.

Then there are two other types that arrive with these guys. The ones who have had enough of feeling neglected, and are looking to make themselves feel better. They are open to a liaison with a man or a woman, they just want to feel validated that they can still make someone come. Getting it on with another woman makes them feel naughty and adventurous. I have a lot of fun with these chicks. Then there’s the third kind, the ones that arrive with a similar sort of man but they’re both looking for a chick to take home for a three-way. I don’t do three-ways with men. Instead the woman will flirt with me while the man sits there watching, imagining my head between her legs, then his eyes wander off in search of a more feminine woman that he can fuck as well. But I’ve already got his woman, and she either comes home with me on her own or we get it on in the bathroom, then they go home happy.

And of course, there’s everything in between. Mostly straights come to this bar, but a few hot lesbians and genuine bi gals turn up. Sometimes I have some fun with them if they’re keen, but most seem to be after a serious relationship and I can’t be bothered with that at the moment.

My last long-term relationship was two years ago, with Jennifer. I fell bad for her. She moved to Australia for work and I was meant to follow in three months. Then word got back to me she was seeing someone else. When I confronted her on the phone, she admitted it, and said we were over. I never heard from her again. I’ve felt pretty burned ever since.

Dave, however, has met someone. Her name is Mandy and she’s a twenty-two-year-old fashion design student. Our mutual day off is Monday, because Dave has Sunday and Monday off and I have Monday and Tuesday off. Dave is bringing Mandy around tomorrow to meet me.

When they arrived, I was sitting home alone, indulging in hair of the dog, and the beer bottles were already starting to pile up on the coffee table between me and the TV. Something was on, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I was still thinking about the hot Asian chick sitting on my face that I’d gone home with the night before.

Dave came through the door, leading someone behind him.

“Sam?” he called.

I looked up, my mouth still full of beer. I almost choked on my beer. Standing next to Dave was the cutest girl I had ever seen. Size eight, with beautifully tanned legs stretching out from her Daisy Duke denim shorts. Her perky tits stuck out through her pink singlet. She looked a lot like Jessica Simpson, with her curlish blonde hair flowing over her shoulders and down her back. Her beautiful white smile zeroed in on me, and her lovely brown doe eyes looked straight into me.

“Sam, this is Mandy. Mandy, this is Samantha, also known as Miss Demeanour,” Dave said.

I managed to stick my hand out, which Mandy dutifully took.

“Hello,” I managed to cough out.

“Hi, I’ve heard all about you,” she replied in a friendly tone.

“Oh.” I laughed and hiccupped at the same time, sounding like a strange hyena. “Don’t believe anything this dog tells you.”

Mandy and Dave laughed. I realised I hadn’t even showered, and I was still wearing my clothes from the night before. I quietly hoped I didn’t smell bad.

“Come down to the bedroom,” Dave said to Mandy, leading her away.

“Nice to meet you,” she called to me.

“Likewise,” I called back.

Dave was beaming, and I couldn’t blame him one bit. I took a swig of my beer, and tried to compose myself. That was one gorgeous girl, and I was very, very attracted to her. I had been so overtaken with the loss of my own composure in her presence that I hadn’t even detected if she gave me the ‘vibe’. I took a deep breath, because it didn’t matter if she did. This was Dave’s girl, and I could tell he really liked her. It wouldn’t be long before I would start to hear them fucking in his bedroom. I turned up the TV, and thought about Mandy’s hot perky ass in those shorts. My mouth started to water at the thought of undoing them and tasting what was inside. I wondered if she waxed or not. Straight chicks all seem to be bald down there these days. I am not a staunch supporter of bald pussy, but I have to admit, it does make eating pussy a lot more fun.

They must have had a real quickie in there because they suddenly appeared again, startling me.

“We’re going for a drive,” said Dave. “Do you wanna come?”

This startled me even more.

“Um, no,” I replied. “You guys go.”

“Oh, come along,” said Mandy.

“No, no,” I replied, hiccupping, again. “I haven’t had a shower, and I uh, don’t feel too good.”

They finally left. I got up from the couch and went and had a cold shower.

When Dave returned later, I made sure I was in bed, I didn’t want to get into the “what did you think” conversation with him about Mandy.

But he finally cornered me at work and asked me.

“She’s cute,” I told him.

“You like her, don’t you?” he asked.

I felt my face redden a bit.

“Sure, she seems like a nice person.”

“You know what I mean,” he replied.

I wasn’t quite sure where this was going, so I decided to just be honest.

“I won’t deny I am quite attracted to her.”

“Yeah, that was obvious.”

He seemed annoyed, which suddenly got up my nose; I had done nothing wrong.

“Where’s this going, Dave?” I asked. “What are you trying to say here?”

Dave took his time flipping the steaks he was cooking before he finally replied.

“She likes you, too,” he said.

“What? She doesn’t even know me.”

“Well, I helped with that, I told her all about you, then she met you, she thinks you’re awesome.”

“And you’re pissed she thinks I’m awesome?”

Dave looked at me.

“Sam, stop acting like a dumb ass. She would like to fuck you. She asked me if it would be alright. And I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“Oh,” I replied. “Has she been with a woman before?”

“No,” he said.

So Mandy was just another bi-curious presumptuous straight chick after all; my attraction to her started to lesson. I was so over this.

“Don’t worry about it, Dave,” I told him. “She just wants to have a girl on girl experience to get it out of her system. I can’t be bothered with that shit, I’m not interested.”

I went back to my post out the front. I tried not to think about Mandy. But while I told Dave I wasn’t interested, it wasn’t exactly true. I wanted to fuck her, badly. Darned straights. To be honest, I love straight guys. A lot of dykes don’t trust them, and a lot of straight guys don’t trust dykes, or maybe it’s just men and women not trusting each other in general. My strategy of dealing with anyone is to treat them with respect, and they give me respect in return. I’ll admit there is a camaraderie amongst males that is different to females. Men give each other shit, especially chefs, it’s the alpha thing, and when they give it to women, sometimes women feel threatened, me being me I give better than I get.

My thoughts returned to Mandy. Knowing she felt the same way made me want her even more. But I had a lot on my plate, with work, so I didn’t give too much thought to her again, until two weeks later when she arrived at the house on a Tuesday. Dave was at work. He must’ve given her keys to the house, cause there I was, watching TV on the couch again, and suddenly she was standing in the doorway.

“Oh!” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were home.”

“All good,” I replied, my mouth full of pizza.

“Is Dave home?”

I reminded her he works Tuesday to Saturday. Somehow I got the feeling she hadn’t really forgotten, especially when she sat down on the end of my couch. She was wearing the same outfit she’d been wearing when I first met her, and I’ll admit those shorts were really doing something to me. I asked Mandy if she wanted a drink, offering her my award winning cocktail, in case Dave hadn’t informed her I am an award winning cocktail maker. Mandy accepted a drink.

“What would you like?” I asked.

She asked me if I would recommend something. I was still lying on the couch wearing a t-shirt and boxers, my feet pointing at her.

“How about Sex on the Beach?” I asked.

I looked her straight in the eye when I said it. She looked straight back at me; she leaned over and put her hand on my bare leg.

“I would love you to show me, how you make Sex on the Beach,” she whispered.

She slid her hand up a bit higher, toward my knee. The strap of her pink singlet slipped down over her shoulder, revealing her smooth tanned shoulder blades. She wasn’t wearing a bra and I noticed her nipples had hardened under her pink singlet. My mouth went dry and my pussy went moist at the sight.

She looked at me and smiled, but I didn’t smile back. She suddenly looked a bit awkward, she removed her hand from TVand looked back at the TV screen. I smirked to myself; I was enjoying this. I pulled my legs off the couch and sat up. Mandy was still looking straight ahead at the TV screen, thinking she must’ve made a mistake. She pulled the strap of her singlet back up onto her shoulder.

I sat there for a few more seconds, and looked her up and down through the corner of my eye. I had to enjoy the beauty of this girl before I fucked her brains out. My mouth watered again at the thought of what was between her legs—the heat between my own legs soaring to a record temperature—knowing it was about to happen.

Mandy stood up. “I uh, better get going. Let Dave know I came over.”

She went to leave, and I snatched her wrist. She turned around in surprise. “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked her huskily.

And I ended the games right there. As I stood from the couch I pulled her toward me and her lips smacked against mine, locking together in a very deep kiss. I pressed in close to her; she was stiff in my arms at first, but as I kissed her more deeply, she began to relax, her tongue finally meeting mine in my mouth. She unlocked her lips from my mouth and dropped her head back as I kissed down her neck.

“Oh my God, you are sooo hot!” she breathed.

“So are you, sweet lady,” I breathed back. “Come with me.”

I took her hand and led her to my bedroom; thankfully, I had made the bed that morning. I couldn’t get her in there fast enough, the anticipation of putting my head between her legs was driving me crazy.

We got to the bedroom and my mouth met hers again as I ripped off her singlet, revealing the beautiful perky tits underneath. I ran my hands over them, caressing them, then ran my hands down her amazing, smooth back. I reached her ass and cupped it in my hands before bringing them around to finally undo her shorts.

My breath quickened as I realised she was wearing nothing under the shorts. They slid down her legs and landed on the floor, her bald pussy greeting me. I put my arm around her waist and put my other hand between her legs, my fingers meeting her delicious, wet stickiness. She gasped as I slipped two fingers inside her. She was really, really wet, and she started to pant as I fucked her with my hand. Then I took my hand away from her pussy and raised it to my face, putting each finger in my mouth and sucking them clean. They tasted amazing.

I pointed to the bed. “Lie down and spread your cunt,” I told her.

Mandy lay down on the bed, lifting her knees toward her face and spreading her legs wide apart. Her pussy was pink and glistening from her wetness; she was so wet, she had dripped down to her asshole, which also glistened. I could take it no longer, I dived onto the bed and buried my face in her pussy.

Mandy let out a soft cry as my tongue sank into her folds. Her pussy was both beautiful and delicious, and I ate it like I hadn’t had food in a week. I reached my hands around onto her stomach and stretched her pussy up, pronouncing her clit. I took it into my mouth; it swelled as I ran my tongue all over it. When I felt it start to spasm, I slinked my tongue down into her hole and fucked it with my tongue.

Mandy writhed and moaned all over the bed as I impaled her with my tongue. Then I slipped it out and snaked it down to her asshole. She gasped as my tongue hit her tight puckered hole. I worked my tongue on her asshole, swirling it all over the tight pink skin and dipping it in and out. Her asshole began to spasm around my tongue, and I pushed it in further and her whole body started to quiver. I raised my mouth back to her pussy just before she came.

Mandy grabbed the back of my head as she cried out in pleasure, her pussy shuddering beneath my tongue, her juice filling my mouth. I gently kissed her vulva to calm her down a bit.

I wasn’t done with her pussy yet, but I could see it needed some rest time before I demolished it again. I raised my head to her beautiful breasts and kissed them, taking each of her pink nipples into my mouth.

“You have amazing tits,” I whispered to her.

“Can I see yours?” she asked.

I realised I was still fully clothed in my t-shirt and boxers, I guessed it was definitely time to get naked with this beautiful woman. Her legs were still on either side of me as I went to take my shirt off, but she reached up and pulled it off for me. She looked curiously at my B cup tits, running her hand over them. Then she started to pull down my boxers. My black bush greeted her. She put her hand between my legs and started to rub my clit, I lay down next to her and she continued. I played with her nipples as she played with my clit. But I really wanted to fuck her again.

I got her into the scissor position; our clits met and stuck together. Mandy looked a bit confused, she definitely hadn’t done this with a dude. But once I started to move my hips against her, she soon followed my motion and soon we were really going for it, both our cunts so wet they slipped and slid together in a beautiful wet mess. Mandy arched her head back and started to cry out, she was gonna come again. I was gonna come myself, I pushed my cunt hard against hers and threw my head back as we both came together. I collapsed on top of her, kissing her sweet mouth. We held each other for a while, stroking each other’s tits. But I had another surprise for this special lady.

“I have a treat for you,” I told her.

I reached down under the bed, and got my toolbox. I pulled out my black strap-on, my black mamba. Her eyes widened at the sight of it. I winked at her.

“Get on your knees,” I said.

Mandy rolled over and got on her knees, she bent over presenting her ass and pussy to me. I didn’t show her what else I had in my hand, a glass butt plug. I rubbed some lube on the plug, then slid it down her crack. Mandy turned her head.

“What is that?” she asked.

“You like?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, I do.”

She gasped as I started to edge it into her asshole, moaning when it took its place firmly in her ass, the diamond end of the plug sparkling between her cheeks. I lubed up my black mamba, and pushed the head of it into her pussy hole. The black mamba is huge, so I edged it in slowly.

Mandy whimpered as it opened her up, stretching her out. It was finally all the way in. I looked down at the sight below me, this beautiful girl on her knees before me, her ass fitted with my favourite glass butt plug, her cunt filled with my black mamba, all ready to go. I took her waist with both hands, and pulled my hips back. The black mamba slid out of her till just the head was left at her entrance, and Mandy cried out as I slammed it back in.

I fucked her hard, the black mamba stretching her pussy out every time I thrust it in. I kept fucking her as she moaned into my pillow. I could feel her start to get tighter and tighter around it, her ass cheeks were starting to quiver around the sparkling end of the butt plug poking out of her ass. And she came. Her whole body tightened up, then she shuddered all over, finally going limp.

She panted heavily into my pillows, trying to get her breath back. I slid the black mamba out and she collapsed onto her side on the bed. I could see the butt plug still sitting in her ass, I went to remove it. It came out with a short pop as her asshole quickly closed after it.

I lay down next to her and took her in my arms. I could feel the black mamba against her ass. I would have to introduce her ass to the black mamba properly at some stage. I stroked her nipples.

“Sam?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Can I eat you out?”

A lot of straight chicks are more than happy to receive, but many don’t like giving, so I never expect it unless it’s offered. So this was a nice surprise.

“If you want,” I replied.

“I do, I really do. Can you sit on my face?” she asked.

I didn’t see that coming, but I manoeuvred myself up so I could lower myself down on to her face. Mandy raised her hands to hold my waist, and her tongue met my cunt. To my surprise she was really good, her tongue darted all over my folds, flicking in and out of my hole. I felt myself starting to come, I went to move as I didn’t want to come yet, but Mandy held me down where I was and pushed her tongue deeper inside me. I started to grind on top of her face as the excitement built higher, and my cunt began to shudder over her mouth. I grabbed the headboard of my bed to steady myself as the orgasm hit me, and I came all over her tongue. I sat there panting, as Mandy kissed my hot, wet vulva. I climbed off her face and lay down next to her.

“Dave’s gonna be pissed at me,” I told her.

“It’s okay,” she replied. “He told me to come here today, but he said you’ll owe him a beer afterwards.”

I laughed; damned Dave! He was such a dog.

I gave Mandy a kiss on the lips. I think I owed him a round of beers.

Swimming Lessons

My parents have a kidney-shaped pool at the back of their house. I have fond memories of that pool, the little pool parties I would host when I was a kid, which grew to very drunken pool parties when I was a teenager. The house was on a cliff edge and the neighbours didn’t have a view of the backyard, so I could also sunbathe naked when I was home alone, which I used to do a lot. But it was an experience I had in the pool when I was twenty-eight that brings the biggest smile to my face, a naughty smile that I keep to myself.

For years they used to get the pool cleaned by an older guy, who eventually retired, so they had to find someone new to take over. Eduardo was twenty-five, from Portugal, and came here to study. He studied hard and cleaned pools in his spare time for cash under the table. Each month he would come and test the water in the pool, clean out all the leaves and change the chemicals. After the collapse of my marriage, which only lasted two years before I found out my husband had been cheating on me, I’d come to my parents’ house for some time to enjoy the sun and not think.

One morning I was home alone and I was sunning myself in a red bikini on one of the loungers, and had fallen asleep with my sunglasses on. I must’ve heard some movement that had stirred me awake. When I opened my eyes, I was confronted with the back of a dark haired man wearing nothing but tight blue bathers. He had ripped muscles down his back and the cutest, tightest butt I had ever seen. The muscles in his dark tanned arms flexed as he swung the net around the pool, fishing out the leaves.

I blinked a few times, was what I was looking at for real? I cleared my throat.

The man turned around. He was even better from the front. He had olive skin and sparkling green eyes, a square jaw and strong nose. His hair had been slightly bleached by the sun, and had some lighter streaks through it. His swimming bathers were so tight the outline of his package was very pronounced, and very impressive.

“Hello,” he said, in a thick accent.

“Hello....” I replied.

He put down the net and came toward me with his hand extended.

“I am Eduardo,” he said, taking my hand.

I realised too late that my hand was sweating.

“Catherine,” I choked out, discreetly wiping my hand on the towel when I got it back.

“You have lovely home here,” he said in his broken English.

“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s actually my parents’ house.”

We talked for a little bit, he asked me questions about what I did for a living, and what sort of things I would recommend he does while he was living here. Skinny dip with me in the pool, I felt like saying.

“Would you mind,” he asked. “If I have swim in this pool before I leave here? It so hot today.”

“Sure,” I replied. “As long as you don’t mind me joining you.”

“But not at all!” he said. “It your pool!”

“Would you like a drink?” I asked him.

“If you have one, too,” he replied.

“Indeed I am,” I said, going into the house.

When I got inside I realised I was extremely warm inside my bikini bottoms, and it wasn’t from the sun. As I made two pina coladas, I watched Eduardo through the kitchen window as he finished cleaning the pool. Then he dived in. He did some back stroke back and forth, which he was still doing when I came out with the drinks. I put the drinks on the side of the pool, and sat down with my legs in the water.

“Obrigado,” he said, taking his glass. He gave me a wink. “It mean thank you, in Portuguese.”

I could feel my bikini bottoms getting moist, and it wasn’t from the water in the pool either.

“You coming in?” he asked.

“I saw you doing the back stroke,” I said. “I’ve never been able to do that properly, I always get water in my mouth and nose, do you think you could show me?”

This was true; I always ended up getting water in my mouth and nose.

“Sure, sure,” he said. “Come in.”

He waded to the middle of the pool. I got in the water. The pool wasn’t heated, so it was quite cold, but all my pink parts were raging hot. My nipples hardened under the red bikini top as the cold water touched them, and I could tell he noticed. He extended his arm over the water.

“I keep my hand under your back for first few times, then you try by yourself.”

I lay back onto his hand, his touch caused a chemical reaction between my legs, I completely lost my balance and fell under water. He grabbed my arm and pulled me up, coughing and spluttering. I was so embarrassed.

“Ugh,” I said. “Sorry.”

Eduardo laughed. “We try again, eh?”

The second time was more successful, though my heart fluttered when my elbow brushed his tight abs. He led me back and forth along the pool, and no water went up my nose.

“You want to try by yourself?” he asked.

We’d barely touched the pina coladas.

“I need a drink first,” I replied.

We waded back to the drinks at the side of the pool. I leaned my elbows on the edge, my legs outstretched in the water. Eduardo did the same.

“You have boyfriend?”

European men are always so direct.

“I had a husband,” I replied.

“What happen?”

“He was having more sex than me.”

Eduardo seemed to be trying to process what I’d just said.

“He was seeing other women,” I put more simply.

“Oh, I see,” he said.

He looked me deep in the eyes. “He very stupid man.”

The heat between my legs got hotter than ever.

“You got a girlfriend?” I asked him.

“No anymore,” he said. “In Portugal, she was. But when I come here, she say it over. I look now for a nice lady from this country.”

Again he looked me in the eyes as he said it. I had to make it clear I was not looking for a relationship, not for a long time.

“I’m still legally married,” I said. “I don’t want a boyfriend until I’m divorced.”

I held the pina colada glass tightly in my hand, Eduardo watched as my hand started to slowly slide up and down the glass. He looked back at me, the corner of his mouth creasing into a naughty smirk.

“Ah, I see....” he replied huskily.

He held my gaze for a few seconds, which sent a rage of passion through every inch of my being. I wanted to reach out and grab hold of him, but I stayed still, looking straight back into his eyes. He smiled again, then slowly leaned toward me. His lips met mine, and for a moment I went completely limp, except for the pounding between my legs. His tongue met mine in my mouth, setting me on fire. My hand left my drink, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, his arms clasping me around my back, his hands lowering down to my ass under the water.

Then we both heard a car pull up, it was my parents. Eduardo snapped out of our bubble of desire and pulled his lips off mine. He leapt out of the pool. Trust my parents to interrupt this, I felt like I was sixteen again. Some things never change. He put a towel around his waist.

“When are you coming here again?” I asked him, panting.

“Uh, next month,” he replied.

“I think our pool needs a clean again before then,” I replied, eyeing him.

I remembered my parents were going away on Saturday night, three days away.

“I’m gonna be swimming in here a lot,” I said slowly. “I think it’s going to be very dirty again by Saturday.”

Eduardo eyed me sexily, the chemistry between us now so hot not even the pool water could cool it down. He gestured toward the house.

“They home?” he asked.

“Not after nine in the evening...”

“See you Saturday,” he said, winking.

I spent the next three days practicing my back stroke, until I finally got it right. I couldn’t wait to show Eduardo.

I saw him arrive on Saturday night through my bedroom window. He started unloading the pool cleaning gear. Somehow I didn’t think he’d be needing that. I quickly grabbed my towel and went down to the pool. I turned on the pool and patio lights, including the lights under the water and the neon sign on the wall. The neon sign always looked romantic at night, with the green palm trees and blue lettering spelling out Pool Bar, even though there is actually no bar in the pool. I lay back on one of the loungers, and closed my eyes. I could hear his footsteps coming toward me. When I knew he could see me, I raised my hand, and slid it down between my legs. I could feel his presence much closer, and felt his eyes boring into me as I caressed myself.

The light over my eyes darkened, he was standing over me, but I kept my eyes closed, my wetness now seeping through my bikini bottoms. I finally opened my eyes, and saw Eduardo’s blue bathers above me. He was running his hand over the front, caressing his huge hard-on that protruded through the tight lycra. He reached down and took my hand, lifting it away from between my legs. He led my hand to his groin. I let out a gasp as I felt his cock’s hardness, and its girth. It got larger under my hand, straining to be let out. I decided to release him.

XXXI sat up properly. He looked at me longingly as I hooked my fingers through the top of his bathers and pulled him toward me, then I tugged them down. His huge cock sprung out in front of my face. He let out a moan as I took it in my hand and stroked his shaft up and down. Then I led it toward my mouth. I took him in slowly, licking around his head, before I took him all in. He ran his hands through my hair.

“Catherine...” he gasped, as I sucked him harder.

I know how to give good head, and can make a man come pretty fast. He gripped my head as his balls tightened, and I could feel his orgasm hitting as his balls lurched upward and his load was coming up his shaft. I pulled my mouth off his cock and raised my chest, and his cock exploded onto my chest. I sat back on the lounger and smiled at him as his warm cum shone in the patio lights over my cleavage, it started to run down between my breasts. I ran a finger over my breast, then slipped it into my mouth.

“You taste amazing...” I whispered.

He pushed his bathers down his legs and stepped out of them, now naked before me. He then took my hands, hoisting me up. Once I was at my feet he reached around and undid the clasp on my bikini top. It slid off my arms and landed on the concrete. Eduardo took my breasts in his hands, which were still covered in his cum.

“Come to the pool,” he said quietly, thumbing my nipples. “You a very dirty girl who needs a clean.”

I was expecting to walk, but he picked me up in his arms. He walked down the stairs that led into the pool, and released me once he was waist deep. I waded to the middle, then turned around and faced him. He watched me as I splashed the water over my chest, caressing my breasts with the water until all his cum was washed away. Then I stood still, the water dripping off my tits. He came toward me and took me around the waist, putting a hand under my chin, and kissed me deeply. I could feel his cock getting harder again, it swelled against me and pressed toward my now sweltering hot cunt through my bikini bottom.

Still kissing me, Eduardo moved his hands down toward my ass. He slipped one hand under my bikini bottoms and clutched my ass; his other hand moved to the front and also slipped inside, cupping my cunt. My clit throbbed against his middle finger.

I moaned as his finger worked my clit, making it engorge more and more. When he could tell I was on the brink of coming, he slid it further down and slipped it inside me, then slipped in a second finger. I moaned harder as he finger fucked me, I had his cock in my own hand, which was now harder than ever. His other hand was cupping my ass, and I felt his fingers sliding into my crack. His index finger met my asshole.

I gasped as he fingered around my asshole, running his finger over the opening in little circles. I had never really been touched there. My ex-husband had tried it, but he was always so rough I used to push his hands away. But this felt amazing. I felt my head fall back as Eduardo’s fingers worked my front and back, waves of pleasure syncing with the water lapping at my waist. I was starting to tremble.

Eduardo removed his hands from inside my bikini bottoms and started peeling them down. I stepped out of them under the water, and they floated up to the surface. He had his back against the wall, and he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me toward his cock. I straddled him in the water, then gently lowered myself onto his rod. I gasped as it slid up into me. His cock felt amazing; it filled me completely.

Once he was tightly inside me, he held me firmly around the waist and began to thrust into me. His cock hit my g-spot immediately, his thrusts so hard they literally knocked me back in the water. But he had obviously done this before because he knew to hold me tight, thrusting into me so hard I met his every thrust with a shriek.

I couldn’t believe how good this felt, being bucked and fucked at the same time, it was completely different to doing it in bed, and I was loving every moment of it. My g-spot was starting to reach its peak, and my pussy began to quiver around his cock. Soon it began spasming, and my whole body convulsed in the water as the orgasm washed over me.

He came soon after, gripping me tightly as he filled me up. He pulled me into his arms, and held me for a few minutes as I lay my head on his shoulder.

“Oh my God,” I said, still breathless. “That was incredible.”

“You have a pool and you never been fucked in the pool?” he asked.

“Yes, but not like that!”

That was the truth. When I was sixteen, my first boyfriend and I had had sex in here once, but it was not enjoyable at all. I had never bothered to try it again.

“You obviously have!” I said.

“My favourite place,” he said, grinning. He lowered his hands to my ass. “Have you ever been fucked here?” he whispered, giving my butt cheek a squeeze.

“No,” I said quietly.

“You want to try?”

I did. But I was embarrassed to say so. I had always worried it would hurt, but something told me it would be okay with Eduardo.

Eduardo took my hand. “Come here,” he said gently.

He led me to the side of the pool, got behind me and hoisted me up over the edge, my ass sticking up in the air. He was going to fuck me in the ass; I clasped my hands together and closed my eyes. I felt his hands part my cheeks, and I braced myself for the hugeness of his cock. Instead I felt the most amazing sensation I’d ever had, as his tongue sank into my asshole. I let out surprised cry, I wasn’t expecting him to do that.

He held my ass down firmly with his hands holding my cheeks apart as he rimmed his tongue all over the soft pink puckered skin of my asshole. I clasped my hands harder together as he pushed his tongue further in, then out again, fucking my asshole with his tongue, then releasing it and swirling it all over the rim again before driving it back in.

Gasps and moans escaped my mouth as I began to writhe around on the concrete. Then I gasped even louder as I felt my asshole start to quiver. My ass was going to have an orgasm; I’d had no idea it could even do that.

He kept driving his tongue further in and out, again and again. I started shaking all over, and still he held me down, my whole body impaled on his tongue in my ass. Then it hit me, a full body orgasm that caused me to convulse all over and my asshole to start convulsing all around his tongue. He held me still and kissed my asshole as the orgasm kept washing over me. It finally finished, and I lay panting on the concrete.

I finally turned over and looked at him.

“You like?” he asked.

I actually didn’t know what to say, but I quickly realised I was sitting on the edge of the pool with my legs apart; my exposed, hairless pussy facing Eduardo, and he was eyeing it. He came closer to me, and pushed my knees apart. I was still exhausted from the orgasm he’d just given me in the ass, but as his face got closer to my cunt I felt the heat surge there, and I was ready to go again.

I lay back on the concrete as his mouth met my pussy lips. My pussy was so slippery from the orgasm I’d just had it enhanced the sensations to a new level. I moaned as he tongued my pussy, sloshing it around the soaking wet flesh and swirling around the folds, flicking all over my clit. He slipped two fingers inside me, fish hooking me, catching my g-spot. My clit puffed up inside his mouth as he sucked on it, gently pushing his tongue down against it, his fingers working my g-spot. I came fast, wrapping my legs around his head as I shuddered into his face. He reached up and stroked my breasts.

My legs loosened around his shoulders. He straightened up in the pool, and ran his hands up and down my thighs.

“You had enough?” he asked. “Or you want some more?”

Yes, there was one thing we hadn’t done yet.

“I want you to fuck me in my ass,” I told him.

He grinned. “Okay,” he replied. “You got KY?”

I did, it was under the lounger I had been lying on when he arrived, though I didn’t quite have this in mind when I put it there. I stood up and smiled at him, beckoning him to follow me.

I grabbed the lube and tossed it toward him; he caught it in one hand. One of the towels was lying on the ground; I got down on it on my hands and knees. After what he’d done to my ass with his tongue, I wanted to see what he could do with his cock.

Eduardo kneeled behind me. I could hear him open the lube and rub himself down. I lowered my head to the ground between my elbows, so my ass was as high as it could be. Then I felt the cold lube drop onto my asshole. My breath quickened as he rubbed the lube around my asshole with his fingers. He gently slipped one inside, slipping it in and out, then two fingers, then three, squirting more lube and rubbing it inside me.

Once he decided my ass was open enough, he took me by the waist with both hands. Once again I braced myself for his cock. I felt his head at the entrance, nudging to get inside. His cock gave a soft shove, and it edged in a little. I squeezed my eyes shut as my asshole strained against the wideness of his cock. I felt him reach around and his hand met my pussy, his finger finding my clit. He rubbed my clit in little circular motions, and slowly my ass began to open up. He edged his cock further and further in. When he was finally past my sphincter muscles, his fingers left my clit, and his cock slid all the way up inside my ass.

I gasped as I felt the length and girth of it deep inside me; it felt massive. He then grabbed me by both ass cheeks, holding them firmly apart and me firmly in place as he slid his cock back out. He slid it almost all the way out, then slammed it back in again, repeating the motions. I started letting out soft cries with each thrust; this felt amazing.

He began to fuck my ass harder, slamming his cock in and out, and my ass found a life of its own as it gripped and swallowed his cock deep down inside it. With every thrust I cried out in both pleasure and pain as I lay with the side of my head on the towel as he pounded my ass behind me. Then my ass gripped his cock harder than ever, my whole body stiffening.

I cried out as I began to shudder all over, my asshole convulsing all around his incredible cock as another anal orgasm hit me. His hands gripped my ass harder, and I felt him stiffen behind me. Eduardo let out a huge growl then his cock exploded inside my ass, his balls pulsating against my cunt. We were both motionless for a few seconds, panting hard. He finally pulled his cock out of my ass. I collapsed sideways onto the towel, and he fell down next to me.

“Oh my God,” I said again, I didn’t know what else to say. But I knew what I had to ask. “Where did you learn to do all that?” I exclaimed.

Eduardo grinned. “Back in Portugal, my mom had a friend, who had a pool...”

I stared at him, then laughed. Now it made sense, only an older woman could teach a younger man to pleasure a woman like that.

In a week I would be flying home, but I’d just decided I would be moving back to my home town very soon.

I just needed to find a place with a pool.

Strawberry Punch

International business travel is always exciting when you first start doing it, especially the part where you don’t have to pay for it. But after about three years it becomes a drag, and after fifteen years, it’s a real drag. Especially when you’ve got a wife at home like I’ve got.

Cherie is my second wife, and until I met her, I didn’t actually know marriage could be so, well, good. Really good. Amazing, actually. I have the perfect woman in every way. As for looks, imagine Dita von Teese, but even hotter than that. That’s the woman I’m married to. The best part—she loves being fucked by me. Anytime. Anywhere. Everywhere.

But right now, I’m stuck on a flight from Hong Kong with a bunch of douche bag IT executives, including Ted, my drone of a boss.

“What you buying for Cherie from the duty free?” he asks, like it’s any of his damn business what I buy my wife.

“Couple of bottles of the best stuff,” I reply.

I’ll call Cherie when I’m in the shop and see if she wants anything. I’ll buy that woman whatever the fuck she wants.

“What are you buying for Susan?” I ask Ted out of politeness.

“Fuck, I can’t remember,” Ted snorts. “She gave me a list, I gave it to Melissa; she’ll text it to me.”

Ted has two women who think for him—Susan, his wife, and Mel, his PA. I think they even find his ass in the dark and hand it to him. He’s fifty-seven and grossly overweight. Ted wants to fuck Mel but as they say, dreams are free. He fucks Susan sometimes but he doesn’t like it much, and I’ve no doubt the feeling is mutual. I know he definitely beats off thinking about my wife.

I’ve been stuck with this fool for ten days.

“So, Cherie will have a cherry pie or somethin’ waitin’ for ya, eh?”

The fool has been drinking too much again; I can smell it from where I sit. I pretend to be asleep.

I think of my wife, her perfectly manicured red fingernails at the end of her perfect slender white hand, wrapped around my cock. Her hand leading my swollen cock to her perfect crimson mouth. I feel my cock start to twitch; I quickly think of football. I don’t want these clowns telling everyone at work I got a hard-on in the plane.

Cherie is thirty-six and I met her five years ago, in the apartment building where we lived; yeah, we were neighbours. She was a chef at a leading restaurant. Not just any chef either. She’s won awards and she has a top selling line of cookbooks. She left her job at the restaurant about six months ago to concentrate more on her books. Somehow I married a woman who looks like Dita von Teese, cooks like Nigella Lawson and fucks like Jenna Jameson. I suppress a smile to myself, yes, such a woman exists—and she’s married to me.

When she was my neighbour she was married, and I was married. Her husband was a chef as well; he worked really long hours. Because he could cook, too, he didn’t appreciate Cherie’s skills; he even told her that her food was shit. My ex-wife was a vet who liked animals more than people, especially more than her husband. One night after one of many rows, I left our apartment and had a cigarette out back. I’d recently taken up smoking again, mostly as an excuse to leave the house when she was being a bitch, which seemed to be happening more and more often.

I’d noticed the stunning woman next door and I’d heard the way her husband spoke to her, like she was a dog. He and my ex would’ve been perfect for each other.

Cherie had seen me smoking downstairs more than once, and this time she followed me and asked for a cigarette. She’d heard us fighting. We didn’t discuss it, we both knew about each other’s situations. She asked if I wanted to come in and have some of the dinner she’d cooked—the dinner her husband said tasted like shit. Hell, this lady could’ve offered me a piece of dry toast and I would’ve thought it was great. I couldn’t even remember the last time my ex and I ate a meal together.

We went to Cherie’s apartment for dinner, and I say without bias, it was the best food I’d ever eaten. I’d had no intention of moving in on another man’s wife, especially in his house, but when Cherie leaned over and kissed me, it was all on. I fucked her right there on the table.

The next week we both moved out of our respective apartments and in with each other. I know it sounds cliché, but when you know, you know. We’ve been together ever since, and we got married as soon as our divorces came through.

Cherie gives the best head I’ve ever had, and she loves being fucked in the ass. Her ex could never get hard enough to give it to her in the ass, and the loser refused to take Viagra. My ex hated giving blowjobs. As for anal, I never dared bring that up.

I start to get hard again thinking about Cherie’s beautiful creamy round ass. Her luscious pink asshole twitching when she’s bent in front of me, getting ready to take my cock deep inside it. I put a newspaper over my lap.

The pilot announces landing is thirty minutes away. Thank fuck for that. Any more time in the ass of this aeroplane, I’m gonna go insane.

When we land, I ditch my colleagues and call Cherie. I ask her how her day has gone. She tells me she’s made a four-course dinner for me and four of our friends tonight. I hope she doesn’t hear the disappointment in my voice. I don’t wanna go home and eat with other people, I wanna go home and eat my wife’s pussy out.

Then she tells me she’s waxed her pussy today. No hair she says, from the eyebrows down. Damn! She’s made a strawberry punch, she tells me. But one strawberry got lost. Her breathing is now really heavy. It’s in my pussy, she says. You need to come home and help me get it out, before our guests arrive.

Other people are now filing in around me. “Do you want anything duty free?” I croak.

“No,” she replies. “Just come home. Now.”

I was gonna get myself a bottle of whisky, but that’ll have to wait for another day.

I race through customs and grab the first cab home. The thirty minute ride feels like two hours. The driver keeps trying to make small talk, but I’m a bit distracted.

As soon as I get in the door I can hear Cherie on the phone. I follow her voice. My hard on is now bulging through my pants. When she sees me, she mouths hello, and I stand watching her as she leans against the table top, talking into the receiver. Cherie digs the vintage look, today she’s wearing a stunning red dress and black stilettos, similar to what Marilyn Monroe would’ve worn. She’s also wearing skin coloured stockings, my cock gets even harder knowing she’s got suspenders holding them up. And that smooth pussy is waiting at the top.

Her makeup is perfect, she looks about to grace the red carpet or something. She smiles that sultry Dita von Teese smile as she sees my hard on pointing at her. I want to drop my pants and stroke myself but it will be worth it if I wait for her to do it. I can tell by her words she’s speaking to her publicist, and it doesn’t sound like the conversation is going to end soon. Damn. As usual she has a perfect spread prepared on the table, I go to grab a glass of strawberry punch, and she smacks my hand away. I sit at the table like a good boy. I am forty years old and I am hornier now than I was when I was fifteen.

Suddenly Cherie tells her publicist she can’t hear him.

“Sorry, Bill, what was that? I can’t hear you, there’s something wrong with the line.”

I smirk, I know there’s nothing wrong with the line.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have to call you back.”

Cherie hangs up the phone. We look at each other. Then I am on her. Her mouth tastes like strawberries.

“Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much,” she gasps as I drop my head down to her neck.

I don’t mean to be rude, but I can only grunt in reply as I kiss and suck her smooth flawless skin. I pull down the straps of her dress and bra and her beautiful creamy breasts spill out over her dress. I take a raspberry nipple in my mouth and suck hard on it. Cherie has the most amazing double-D cup tits.

She goes for my belt, but I’ve already dropped to my knees. I push her ass against the table and hoist her on top of it. I hear some glasses fall over, luckily she doesn’t seem to care. I push up her dress and spread her thighs. I was expecting to have to rip off some underwear, but to my delight she isn’t wearing any. Her hairless pussy stares back at me, wet and waiting. And inside is a strawberry with my name on it. I pull her into me and sink my tongue into her pink folds. Cherie moans with pleasure. Oh my God, I never get tired of eating her pussy, it is the most delicious thing to have ever touched my taste buds.

I reach my hands around and place them on her stomach, stretching her pussy up as I swirl my tongue all over her folds. The soft pink skin begins to throb under my tongue. Cherie runs her fingers through my hair as I suck on her clit, circling my tongue around it. It swells in my mouth. Her fingers start to dig into my scalp.

“Oh my God, Chris...” she moans.

I move my tongue back down to her hole and tongue fuck her. I can feel something against my tongue. It is the strawberry she promised me. Cherie clenches her pelvic muscles and the strawberry pops into my mouth. I chew it down. The best tasting strawberry I’ve ever eaten.

Her wetness has dripped into her ass crack. I move my hands down and part her ass cheeks, and then slide my tongue between them. Cherie has the prettiest pink asshole, and she loves it when I eat it. And I love eating it. She also returns the favour sometimes—the only woman I’ve ever been with who does that. But my favourite way to eat Cherie’s asshole is to have her face down. I flip her over so she is bent over the table, ass in the air. I spread her cheeks again, her asshole shines with her pussy juice and my saliva. I sink my tongue back into it, rimming it all around. I hold Cherie’s ass cheeks firmly apart as she moans and writhes on the table.

I start fucking her asshole with my tongue, pushing it in as far as it can go, in and out, in and out. The pink cavity starts to convulse around my tongue. But I don’t want her to come just yet. I get to my feet and start to undo my pants. But Cherie beats me to it. She has moved off the table and dropped to her knees in front of me, her dress still half way around her waist. Her red lipstick is smeared from my mouth being on hers. She looks up at me with doe eyes as she undoes my belt and pulls down my trousers. My bulging cock springs out in front of her face. She grabs it and rubs it down, then starts licking the tip, still looking at me. I have to look up at the ceiling, otherwise I’m gonna come too soon.

I feel her take me into her mouth, right to the back of her throat. Oh my God, this woman is a goddess. She sucks it hard, still whacking me off me at the base, her tongue flicking all over the tip. I hold her head as she sucks harder, I take a deep breath and exhale, oh man I am gonna explode. I gently pull her hair back. “Baby, lets fuck,” I gasp.

She looks up at me, still with her mouth full of my cock. Now her lipstick is really smeared, she looks more beautiful than ever. Then she smiles and releases me.

We aren’t gonna make it to the bedroom. Cherie gets on her hands and knees and bends in front of me on the carpet. I must have unbuttoned my shirt at some point, I rip it off and kneel behind her. Her red dress is still stuck around her waist. I pull it over her head and toss it aside, then I rip off her suspenders, stockings and garter. Now she is completely naked on our dining room floor, her face in our expensive Persian rug, her pussy and ass presented to me. My swollen dick is covered in her red lipstick. I grab her around the ass and slam my raging hard dick into her wet pussy. Cherie cries out as it goes in.

“Sorry, baby,” I pant.

“It’s okay, it’s a good pain,” she pants back.

Cherie’s tight pussy grips my cock as I slam it in and out. Her pussy gets wetter and wetter as she cries out every time I slam my cock in. She sticks her ass up higher by lowering her back. Her pink asshole twitches away.

I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to fuck her in all three holes before our guests arrive, but its gonna have to happen that way.

Cherie is now so wet she doesn’t need lube for her ass. I take my cock out of her pussy, and she shifts her weight so her ass is right where it needs to be. I have already opened up her asshole by fucking it with my tongue, now it is ready to be fucked for real.

My dick is dripping wet with her pussy juice, so I put the head at the opening of her ass. I take her up the ass regularly, but I still need to be careful every time I enter it. I nudge the head of my cock forward, and her asshole accepts it. I edge it in some more, and some more, bit by bit, until my cock is all the way in. I let out a groan; this feels amazing. Cherie moans, too, as my shaft swells even bigger and harder inside her ass, widening her tight hole. Cherie clenches her ass muscles around my dick, sucking my dick down deep inside her.

“Pound my ass, baby,” she pants.

I pound her ass, alright. After ten days away from her, I fuck it as though I’ve never fucked an ass before. Her ass muscles start to shudder around my cock. She loves this, and I’m gonna give her an orgasm in her ass, just the way she loves it. My dick gets even bigger and harder again, widening her ass even more.

My balls start to really throb, I’m gonna come, now. I let out a roar as my dick explodes in her ass. My dick pulsates inside it as I blow a second load. Cherie’s asshole is now spasming around my dick, and she lets out several shrieks, then collapses, ass still in the air, with my cock inside it. She is gasping for breath as I collapse on top of her.

She lies with the side of her face on the rug, her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath. I gently slide my cock out of her ass. She falls to her side and lies there panting for a bit. Then she turns around and lies on her back. She opens her eyes and looks at me. Her face flushed with colour, her big beautiful breasts spilled out over her chest, hard raspberry nipples pointing to the ceiling. She grins. “Welcome home, baby.”

I lean over and give her a kiss on the mouth.

“Our friends are gonna be here any moment,” she tells me. “I need to go get changed and do my make-up again. And you need to reset the table.”

She gets up and leaves the room as I stand and do my pants back up.

I look at the table and see two of the glasses have broken.

My wife. What a legend.

Under the Mistletoe

Many people say they envy my position. Very few average citizens like me get to party with movie stars, film directors, rock stars, supermodels and high-flying millionaires. It comes with the job when you are nanny to the children of the stars. But it’s not all glamour and parties, it’s mostly damned hard work, especially when the parents are more difficult than the children. Like any job, it comes down to who you work for, and I’ve had more than my share of assholes.

The booze, the drugs, the tantrums, the sexually deviant behaviour of the elite, sometimes I think I should just walk away from this life and never return. Then I get another job, and things get better. Unfortunately, it usually turns out like the previous ones, most of these people are cut from the same cloth. It’s also me, I am the sort of person that attracts these people. I might only be thirty-two, quite young compared to many nannies, but being from the south of London I have a no nonsense attitude. Most of my clients like this about me, they think, here’s someone who won’t take shit from my kids, or myself, you’re hired.

I have a set of rules for myself, one being that I will never allow the children to call me ‘mom,’ (it happens a lot), and another that I will never get romantically involved with a client. But despite this, I often get turned down for jobs, with no other reason given than I lack experience. It’s usually an excuse for wives who feel threatened. They don’t want their husbands around the pretty, long haired–and single–British Indian nanny, who’s better with her kids than she will ever be. So the result is the women who do hire me are usually so up themselves they think no one is better than they are, certainly not some lowly nanny. The fun never ends.

But my job with a top Australian actor who made it in Hollywood was different. His name was Nathan. He and his wife hadn’t used nannies before; they preferred to bring up their kids themselves. Australians are different from the British and the Americans, they tend to be more down to earth, even when they come to the US. Nathan’s wife was an Australian actress as well, but she wasn’t quite getting the roles he was getting. She finally got a lead part in a high profile mini-series to be shot in Canada by a high profile director, and would be away for four months, so I was initially hired for just this period. The first month I would spend with them as a family, then she would be home by mid-November and I would move on.

Nathan was thirty-nine years old, his wife, Simone, same age as me. It was a nice change to meet a woman who didn’t appear to be threatened by having me take care of her kids and living in the same house with her husband. It was also nice to see a couple who seemed to genuinely love each other; I was looking forward to this job.

Their kids were great, a boy and a girl called Ruby and Kane, aged seven and eight, respectively. They still had their Australian accents and were incredibly cute. Their parents were very easy going, letting me do my job without being a pain in the ass.

I won’t deny their parents were very good looking people, especially their father. I do prefer white guys, and Australian guys have a certain handsome ruggedness you don’t see anywhere else, which Nathan had in spades, it must be something to do with the sun over there. He had thick dark brown hair with a sharp hair line, straight, white teeth and warm, brown eyes that twinkled when he smiled, and boy, did he have a gorgeous smile. When he smiled at me, my heart would flutter, and I would tell myself to get a grip, then drink a cold glass of water.

Once Simone left for her stint on the mini-series, Nathan was also away most of the time on another movie, the only time I saw him was on his odd day off and he would take the kids out on his own. He was great, he didn’t act like he was God’s gift to women like so many men in this town. He saw his job as a job and had his feet were firmly on the ground. He called a spade a spade and even travelled in his Maserati with his dogs, which weren’t those stupid handbag mutts you normally see around here, they were a Doberman and a German Shepherd, real dogs.

When he took his kids out, I would spend the time lying by their pool reading, this part of the job was really good.

Mid-November was rolling around fast, so I started to look for my next place of employment. So I was very surprised when two days before I was meant to depart, Nathan came and sat next to me by the pool.

“Priya,” he said, in his cute accent. “I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

He was wearing sunglasses, but I could tell the look on his face wasn’t good. My heart sank, I had enjoyed this job so much, now I was going to hear a complaint about my performance. I swallowed hard.

“Do you think you could stay over Christmas?” he asked me.

I felt the relief wash over me, so it wasn’t a complaint.

“Yeah, that’s no problem. Not many movies get made during Christmas, did one go over schedule?”

Nathan didn’t answer at first.

“No, it’s not quite like that. If you can just please stay until late January, then we’ll relook at the situation.”

“Sure,” I replied.

He got up and went back into the house. Obviously something was up, but I wasn’t going to make it my business to ask. Unless clients offer such information, I keep our relationship as professional as possible.

I found out the very next day. It was splashed all over the newsstands, everywhere. Simone had been caught by a paparazzo making out with the director of the mini-series in a park. She was leaving her husband and moving in with the director. So much for what had seemed like a perfect marriage in Hollywood, they even had me fooled! For now, the children were to live with their father, custody would be discussed later. She was obviously enjoying all the time she was having with her new beau. Nathan told his kids their mother wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas this year, but when the kids asked if she’d be home for Christmas dinner, he couldn’t give them an answer.

“What do you think?” he asked me. “I don’t want to see her, just the thought makes me feel sick.”

I knew exactly how he felt. I told him about how I got to Hollywood, I’d followed my actor boyfriend over from London. When I was with him I wasn’t a live-in nanny; we’d lived together in a shitty apartment in LA while I worked my ass off so he could go to audition after audition. I didn’t mind; I had faith in him that he would land something eventually. He did, and he landed in bed with his leading lady as well. As soon as I discovered this, I moved out. That was eight years ago, and I’ve never seen him since, nor has he had another role since. Nathan laughed at that one. I normally don’t get too personal with clients, but decided to ask Nathan a question.

“Did you ever?” I asked him.

“Ever what?” he replied.

“Stray.”

“No. Never.”

“Then she’s a fucking fool,” I told him.

I was surprised I said that, but Nathan smiled. I was starting to feel a certain affableness around this man that I hadn’t felt in a very long time. My heart quickened when he kept smiling at me.

“I better go feed your kids,” I said, getting up.

“You haven’t answered my original question,” he told me.

I felt embarrassed, what had he asked me again? My brain was suddenly blank.

“Should I say she can come here for Christmas dinner?” he reminded me. “I was just going to send them to her place, but they want her to come here.”

Oh, that’s right.

“Well you asked for my opinion, so I will give it,” I began. “Just think of the children, this is about them, and she is their mother. They are going to be very upset and unsettled once they fully understand she isn’t coming home ever again, so not having her at Christmas will make things harder, for them and for you. So this is about you as well, in a way. It will be hard, but just think about the long term.”

He sat thinking about what I’d said. I wasn’t actually sure if what I’d said was a good idea, I’d just rambled it out. My brain was a bit frazzled, so I hoped I hadn’t given him bad advice.

“I think you’re probably right. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I turned to leave.

“Priya?”

“Yes?”

“Will you join us? I want others there, if that’s alright, I’m not acting like we’re some happy family again, just because it’s Christmas.”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

He gave me a smile, and I scurried back into the house and went straight to the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face. I couldn’t deny it anymore, I’d been attracted to Nathan as soon as I’d met him, but I had never dwelled on it. I would never go there with a client, especially a married one, there was no way I ever wanted to be part of some sex scandal in those stinking tabloids. Up until now I hadn’t had any vibe he was attracted to me, but now something felt different between us. And between my legs, it was undeniable, my knickers were moist. He just wants a rebound, I told myself. Stay away from him.

“Priya?” he called from outside the bathroom.

He’d been using my name a lot today.

“Yeah,” I called back.

“I’m taking the kids out for dinner, will you join us?”

Blimmie, I tried to think of an excuse to get out of it, but none came.

“Sure,” I replied.

Crap. I looked back in the mirror. I was now so hot and sweaty my hair and shirt were stuck to my skin, I’d better have a shower if I was going out for dinner. And change into some decent clothes, if I would be dining with Nathan.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas I spent a lot of time with Nathan and his kids, and I couldn’t help but feel I was taking on more of the ‘mother’ role than I was comfortable with, or should I say would normally be comfortable with. I had to admit, I was enjoying it more than I possibly should have. Normally I was immune to the charms of the rich and famous, but as I said before, Nathan was different from the rest; must’ve been the Australian in him.

Christmas Day finally rolled around, and Simone arrived, thankfully without her director boyfriend. She was different, and not in a good way. She was no longer the down to earth Aussie girl; she was now dressed head to toe in designer clothes and had an air to her that looked down on everyone, especially me. She seemed pissed off that I was sitting at the table, even though her parents were there and Nathan’s parents were also there. I made sure I sat as far away from her estranged husband as possible, I didn’t want to be caught up in any subconscious flirting he might do to make her jealous.

When she finally left, I had noted she’d barely spent any time with her kids, instead leaving them with very expensive gifts. A limo came to collect her and her parents. I shook my head quietly at how soon the poison of this town can infect some people.

While I helped Ruby and Kane pick up their Christmas presents and fold up the gift wrap, Nathan came to join us.

“Daddy,” said Ruby. “You and Priya are standing under the mistletoe.”

I almost fell over. I was too scared to look, but Nathan did.

“Oh, so we are,” he said.

“You have to kiss Priya,” giggled Ruby.

I froze. My feet felt like concrete as Nathan leaned toward me, his face coming straight toward mine. The heat surged through me as his lips brushed my cheek. Somehow I managed to give him a peck back.

“Your turn!” said Nathan to his daughter, scooping her up and giving her a kiss as well. “Time for your bed,” he told her.

He gathered his children and took them upstairs; his parents had already retired for the night.

I sat on the couch and collected myself. My hands were shaking. I hadn’t felt this way for about ten years. I’d had a couple of boyfriends since my ex, but neither lasted long, and the last time I’d been laid was a one night stand over eighteen months ago. To be honest I’d been put off men, I’d grown comfortable being by myself. I didn’t want kids, so I’d never felt the need for a man to breed. I questioned my situation, what would one of the hottest actors in Hollywood see in a little Indian nanny from the UK?

I wasn’t ugly, but it wouldn’t exactly be an equal relationship. But Nathan was different, that little voice told me again. I wondered if he liked Indian girls. His ex-wife was Lebanese, and had long dark hair like mine. I was shaken out of my thoughts when Nathan suddenly appeared in the doorway; he was holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“Would you like a glass of bubbly?” he asked. “I think you’ve earned it.”

“Uh, sure, that’d be nice,” I replied, my mouth full of cotton wool.

He sat down next to me and poured me a glass. I realised the lights were off, the only light in the room was from the huge Christmas tree. The huge white woollen rug his parents had bought him for Christmas lay beneath our feet. Nathan handed me the glass, his face illuminated by the Christmas tree made him look more handsome than ever.

“Cheers,” he said, clinking my glass.

The clink on the glass caused an ignition of heat in my pants.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said quietly. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me, you are just amazing with my kids. I wouldn’t have coped without you.”

“Just doing my job,” I replied, trying to sip my wine.

I ended up gulping it. In the corner of my eye I saw his arm reach over the couch, above my head. I couldn’t look at him, my joints were turning to jelly. His hand came over to the side of my face, he brushed my hair behind my ear.

“Priya....” he said huskily. “We’re still under the mistletoe...”

Slowly I finally turned my face. I looked him in the eyes, and I was drawn toward him like a magnet. My lips met his. The lust I had contained for this man was released. I dropped my wine glass and it splashed all over the rug. His wine spilled all over my chest, but I didn’t care. Our hands were everywhere as he pushed me down on the couch, his mouth dropping from mine to kiss and lick the wine from my chest, his hands running over my breasts over the top of my shirt. All I could do was moan as he kissed up and down my neck, his thick hair brushing under my chin, bringing the hot sensations between my legs to a new level. I could feel his hard cock getting harder against me through his trousers.

“Oh my God, Nathan,” I gasped.

He started to undo my shirt as I started to undo his, and I realised I had only ever seen him shirtless in movies. His bare chest was even more impressive in real life. He got my bra off and caressed my breasts, my nipples hardening under his thumbs. I caressed his head as he took them in his mouth one by one, his hair again brushing under my chin, my knickers now wetter than ever. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to taste him.

I grabbed his belt and started to undo his pants; he moaned as my hand met his cock. I slid my head down his torso till I came face to face with his cock, he quickly sat up on the couch and I manoeuvred myself so I was kneeling on the floor between his legs. I stroked my hand up and down his shaft as I looked up into his eyes. He stroked my brow and my hair before I lowered my face and licked around the swollen head of his cock, flicking my tongue around the sensitive underside, then I took him into my mouth. He ran his hands through my hair as I sucked his cock hard, savouring the taste of him, revelling in this moment that I had thought about so many times at night. His cock swelled even more inside my mouth, and I sucked harder, I couldn’t get enough of it. I felt his hands reach down and tug at my pants. I managed to get my pants off with his beautiful cock still in my mouth. He reached down and put his hand on my ass, giving my ass a squeeze.

“Priya, let me taste you too.”

I released his cock from my mouth and stood up, and he grabbed me around the waist, his face meeting my soaking wet pussy. I moaned as his tongue met the hot flesh there, separating the folds as he explored my pussy with his tongue. He massaged my ass as I put one leg over his shoulder, running my fingers through his hair as he ate me out deeper. Then he pulled me down onto the couch, onto his face, in a sixty-nine. He held me tight onto his face as his tongue swished all over my cunt, his cock still standing upright and glistening with my saliva in the lights of the Christmas tree. I leaned down and took his cock back in my mouth. I held him steady at the base and cupped his balls with my other hand as I sucked up and down his cock. His balls were beginning to pulse, as was my mound in his mouth. I felt his body stiffen under me, and he grabbed me hard around the waist as he pushed his tongue even further into me, causing me to go into a state of bliss, right before my pussy tightened around his tongue and his balls heaved in my palm. I could feel the eruption coming up his shaft, at the same time my pussy was shuddering all over his lips.

His cock exploded in my mouth, the warm juices washing all over my tongue. I slipped his cock out of my mouth and savoured the taste as I swallowed his warm cum down my throat, just as I came all over his face. He held me still as my body quivered all over. I sat there panting, still on his face. I pulled my leg up and fell back on the floor, giggling.

“Oh my God! What have we just done!” I cried, still giggling.

“I don’t know, but it was good. Didn’t you enjoy it?” he asked.

“Now that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked me!” I said, sitting up.

He reached over and put his hand behind my head, pulling me toward him, kissing me again. I lay back on top of him, careful not to touch his cock which would be sensitive for awhile. He held me tight and kissed me deeply.

“I would like to fuck you properly,” he whispered in my ear.

“And I want you to fuck me properly,” I whispered back, kissing him again.

We made out for a while, until what was between our legs was ready to go again.

Nathan sat up on the couch, holding my waist as I straddled him. I kissed him passionately as I lowered myself down onto his cock. I gasped as soon as it hit my opening; it slid up inside me, filling me completely. His hands lowered down to my ass as I began to slide up and down on his cock. He clasped my ass hard as I wrapped my arms around his neck, throwing my head back as he kissed me all over my chest, his cock getting harder and wider as I rode it up and down.

I had never made love like this with anyone. I leaned my hips back and his cock hit my g-spot. For a moment I couldn’t think, all I could do was gasp louder and louder as he thrust his hips up higher, pushing into me higher and harder. The orgasm hit me and I became a quivering mess in his arms, then he moaned and held me tighter as I felt his balls emptying, the warm explosion filling me deep inside.

We held each other tight, until we could both breathe again.

“You are so amazing,” he whispered, running his hands down my back, through my hair.

My eyes closed as he held my head on his shoulder.

“You honestly give the best head I’ve ever had,” he said.

“Everyone will suck your cock in this town,” I replied. “But you need a genuine out of town girl to get genuine good head.”

He laughed.

“And I can genuinely say,” I continued. “That I’ve never been satisfied by anyone the way you just satisfied me.”

He laughed again.

“You need an Australian for the best performance,” he said winking.

“Sounds like I should’ve gone there a long time ago...” I replied.

“I will take you there,” he said.

He gestured at the luxurious white rug on the floor.

“What do you think of the new rug?”

“It’s nice,” I replied.

“I had a special purpose in mind when I asked for it,” he said.

He pulled me down, toward the rug. We lay down, kissing again as he got on top of me. The rug was so soft and thick I felt myself sink into it; it had to be New Zealand wool. I could feel Nathan getting harder as we made out. I parted my legs as far as I could, and he slid his cock inside me again. He kissed my breasts, and I moaned as his cock filled me up, I couldn’t get over just how amazing his cock felt inside me. I gasped as he began to thrust into me, hitting my g-spot almost immediately. I tightened my legs around his waist, thrusting my hips against him as he thrust harder and harder. I grabbed his ass with both hands, trying to push him deeper and deeper into me.

We finally came again, and he pulled my waist against his hips as I writhed beneath him, my back arching up and down, my third orgasm with this man the most powerful yet.

I lay in his arms on the rug, before we fell asleep.

Luckily the nanny in me is always awake, I woke at five-thirty the next morning and realised his kids or his parents could walk in at any moment and see us in this state. I shook him awake and we quickly went to our separate showers.

Over the next few weeks, Nathan and I somehow managed to keep our relationship secret from the press. Until one day when I went to the supermarket, and there I was. I picked up the magazine from the rack, and looked back at myself kissing Nathan in front of the house. Nathan’s Nanny Love! the headline screamed.

Darn, it had been such a quick kiss, too, before he went to work. I put the magazine down, but instead of feeling angry, I realised I actually didn’t care.

I smiled to myself. I was in love, and the happiest I had ever been in my life, and I didn’t give a shit what anyone had to say about it.

Unmasked

I’ve always had a fascination for men in masks. When I was a kid, it was Batman, Phantom of the Opera, and David Bowie in Labyrinth. I would pretend it was me they were taking down to their lairs. Funny how, even as a kid, you don’t know what sex is, but you know what you find attractive. There is another masquerade scene in Batman Returns with Michelle Pfeiffer’s Catwoman and Michael Keaton’s Bruce Wayne which is equally as hot as the scene in Labyrinth.

Those types of scenes don’t happen in real life, at least I thought they didn’t. But as a journalist who mostly covers art events, I should probably know by now that sometimes life imitates art.

I’m not sure why I was the only journalist invited, or maybe I do, but the organisers of a masquerade charity ball invited me to cover their event, sending me a complimentary ticket worth a four figure sum. I actually didn’t want to go at first, I was meant to be interviewing one of my favourite bands that night.

“No, you need to go to this,” said my editor.

“Why...?” I asked.

“You know what can happen at these things,” he replied, with a glint in his eye. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”

A lot of celebrities and high society were attending, and any first-hand account we could get of drunken or drug addled debauchery would be a right scoop for a Sunday newspaper like ours.

Mask mandatory, said the invitation. That would help. My face wasn’t exactly well known, but guests would be less inclined to misbehave in front of me if word got around that a hack was observing.

I managed to borrow some clothes from my sister, who earns a lot more money than I do. I borrowed her red silk gown and a diamond necklace. This thing was as fancy dancy as you could get and I had to blend in as much as possible.

The mask itself was a bit more tricky; with my affinity with masks I was rather fussy about that one. I finally settled on a pure black one that covered my eyes and nose only, it was covered in sequins and lace and had a long black boa.

On the night of the event I had been working all day so got changed at work.

“Wow,” said my colleagues as I walked back to my desk.

“Go get ‘em,” said my editor, grinning at me. He got a hard-on for these sorts of things. Ah, I hoped to bring something back to him; he was a great boss.

The event was held at the home of Roger and Pam Pearson, one of the city’s richest but elusive couples. Incidentally, I used to babysit their thirteen-year-old nephew when I was sixteen. I hadn’t seen him since then, but a good journalist will use any contacts necessary for a good story. Maybe now was a good time to reacquaint myself with the nephew. He’d been a sweet kid and had had a crush on me, if I remembered correctly. I’d heard he would be there.

The cab dropped me off at the opulent iron gates, which were wide open for the evening. You couldn’t see the house from the road, but going by the latest prestige cars entering the gates I had no doubt I was in the right place. I walked the long leafy driveway, and the house soon came into view. I stopped when I saw it, it was the most stunning home I had ever seen. It resembled something out of The Great Gatsby. It was two stories, but was palatial, a beautiful man-made pond sprawled out the front, with its own jetty. Flood lights lit the whole area at the front of the house. I could do a story about the house alone.

I entered the front door and a white gloved butler took my name as another took my coat. The foyer was stunning. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a black grand piano stood beneath it.

I made my way toward the ballroom. Hors d’oeuvres were being served by more white-gloved waiters, and I was offered a glass of champagne. To my annoyance, I was informed that the hosts weren’t even there that night; neither was the nephew or any other family members. They were just letting their magnificent home be used as the venue. I would need to make some new acquaintances then.

Everybody in the ballroom had certainly gone to great lengths; the masks were incredible. I suddenly felt my own was a bit tacky.

Everybody else also seemed to have a date; I was starting to regret not having brought someone along. There were probably some people there I knew, but you couldn’t exactly scan the room and recognise anyone immediately, though my luck quickly changed. I caught a glimpse of a pinky ring I’d recognise anywhere. It bedecked a hand holding a champagne flute. Even with white gloves, he wore the pinky ring over them.

I made my way over to him.

“Hello, Jeff,” I said quietly, from behind.

My old roommate turned around and looked at me curiously from behind his mask. “I know that voice...” he said, cocking his head.

“It’s me. Rose,” I replied, grinning.

“Oh geez, of course! Was a bit hard to tell!” He laughed.

He gave me a hug. Jeff and I went way back over ten years, to our university days when we lived together.I was attending journalism school and he was doing his arts degree. I hadn’t seen him for about five years, but he’d worn that stupid pinky ring ever since I’d known him.

“What brings you here tonight?” I asked.

“I just sold them that,” he replied, winking, and gestured to a huge sculpture in the corner of the room.

It was one of the ugliest things I’d ever laid eyes on, but Jeff always had a knack for selling—in my opinion—his ugliest art pieces for ridiculous amounts of money. It probably helped that his boyfriend ran the top art gallery in town. Jeff knew all the right people; he could definitely introduce me around.

Jeff extended his arm.

“Shall we dance?” he asked.

I took his arm and we made our way to the dance floor. He asked me what I was doing there.

“What do you think?” I replied.

He laughed.

“You’ll have to wait till at least midnight before people start turning into pumpkins,” he said naughtily.

I sighed; it was only eight o’clock. It was going to be a long night. I grabbed his glass of champagne and downed it in two gulps. Somehow I didn’t think anyone would be paying attention to me to scold my lack of table manners, and who cared when we weren’t even at a table.

Jeff twirled me around. Back in the day we’d both gone to ballroom dancing lessons and weren’t too bad on the dance floor. The band was actually pretty good, maybe this assignment wouldn’t be too boring after all. The song changed, and Jeff got ready to twirl me around again.

“May I have this dance?” said a voice.

I looked up. Standing next to Jeff was a tall man wearing a gold mask, his eyes looking intently at me. Jeff looked taken aback.

“Erm, sure...” I said, without really thinking.

The stranger cut in front of Jeff and whirled me away. He held me steadily in his muscular arms. I could tell by the way he moved that he, too, was familiar with dancing. A red rose stuck out of his jacket pocket. His hand held me firmly on the small of my back, his other hand holding mine, leading me around the floor. I looked at Jeff over the stranger’s shoulder, as he stood looking at us rather perplexed, then walked away. I looked up at the stranger. His mask obscured most of his face, over his eyes and nose but leaving his mouth uncovered. He smiled at me. He had the straightest, whitest teeth I had ever seen.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” I said.

“Oh yes, we have. Rose,” he replied, winking at me behind his mask.

He was the third man who’d winked at me that day, but the only one who caused a flutter in my chest. And how the hell did he know my name? I made a good effort to make sure my face was never next to my by-lines in the paper.

“I don’t think so...” I said, looking into his eyes, and grasping his shoulder a bit more than I needed to. “I’d have remembered...”

The stranger chuckled as he stared back into my eyes, and twirled me around again. I could tell I’d already had too much champagne, I was light headed, and his aftershave was intoxicatingly sensual; it emanated around us and made me feel like I was floating. He pressed closer, bringing his mouth to my ear.

“Let’s just say it was a while ago, but I would know that pretty face anywhere, no matter how much you try to hide it, my dear,” he teased.

I felt his hand on my back go a little lower than necessary. I felt a flush of blood flow into all my sensitive regions. I swallowed hard; where was this going...?

“So does the mysterious man have a name? Or is this a guessing game?” I managed to tease back.

“I go by many names...” he said quietly. “But tonight, you may call me Angel.”

“Why Angel?” I pressed.

“Would you prefer something different?”

“No, but you do know what I do for a job, don’t you? Expect me to ask questions,” I replied.

“Yes, my good journo, just don’t expect me to answer them.”

I scanned his face. Even behind the mask I could tell he was handsome. He had thick dark hair and deep dark eyes with long lashes; a strong jawline lay under the mask. He pressed closer, his hand against my back pressing a little harder. I let out a gasp at the hardness that suddenly pressed against my sex. I looked up at him speechless, but as soon as he met my gaze his arousal was gone. He looked at me innocently.

“Are you okay, my lady? You look startled,” he said.

I couldn’t talk, my mouth was dry. “I’m sorry, I need to go,” I mumbled.

I quickly broke out of his grasp and went outside. I didn’t realise how hot I had become until the cold air hit me. I stood on the balcony and cooled down. Who the hell was that and what the hell had he done to me?

Jeff found me outside. “Who was that guy?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” I replied, again taking his champagne, though sipping it this time.

“I’d stay away from him,” he said. “Seemed like a weirdo.”

“Yeah...” I said, not really paying attention.

I scanned the ballroom from outside, looking for the stranger, Angel, but I couldn’t see him.

Angel.... something was ringing a bell, from way back, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Despite Jeff’s concern, I was drawn to finding out. I left Jeff outside and returned to the ballroom.

I stood scanning the room, looking for the gold mask, and the red rose poking out of the tuxedo but couldn’t see him.

“Looking for someone?” asked a voice.

I spun around, and came face-to-face with him again. He held open a silver cigarette holder, offering one to me.

“I don’t smoke,” I said.

“Yes, you do,” he replied.

“A long time ago...” I started to say, because it was a long time ago that I smoked. I had stopped when I turned twenty-one.

Angel grinned. “Really? It has been a while then, hasn’t it...?” he asked

He popped a cigarette into his mouth and headed outside. His aftershave lingered behind, dazzling me beyond reason. I couldn’t help it. My feet followed him.

With his back to me, he lit the cigarette, but when he turned around, I could tell he knew I’d be there.

He eyed me from behind the mask as the smoke exhaled from his mouth. Without words, I took the cigarette from his hand, and inserted it into my own mouth. I should have gagged at the now foreign taste of tobacco, a habit I now couldn’t stand, but all I could taste was him. I savoured it in my mouth, before releasing it and slowly exhaling the smoke into the night air. He didn’t take it back, instead lighting himself a new one.

I took another drag of the cigarette, his cigarette. The cool night air made me feel even lighter. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he took another drag. I felt I should ask him something, I was a journo after all, but my mind was blank.

“So what does Angel do during the day?” I asked.

It wasn’t the brightest question, but this man was making it very hard for me to think clearly. He ignored my question anyway.

“You look as magnificent as ever...” he said softly.

I was starting to get annoyed now. “Oh, come on, at least give me a clue; you’re driving me crazy!” I said.

Angel grinned. “Am I just?” he said. He dragged his cigarette again. “I can’t stay here much longer,” he said. “Give me one last dance...” His eyes bored into mine. “And I might tell you...”

It was a demand rather than a request. As he tossed his cigarette into the ash tray, I quickly tossed my own cigarette into it after his. He took my arm and led me back inside. We settled back on the dance floor, his hand again on the small of my back. His other hand firmly held mine as he once more led me around the floor.

“So, how do you know the hosts?” I asked.

“I know them very well,” he replied.

So he was likely someone of some importance then, but my mind was still blank at how we could possibly know each other.

I felt his hand on my back, pressing that little bit harder once more and again lowering just a bit more. His aftershave again wafted over me, reigniting all my sensitive regions, but even more intensely than previously. I was finding it hard to breathe.

“Have you been to this house before?” he asked quietly.

“No, I have not,” I replied.

“Perhaps you should have a tour...”

Now that would be something. I should have been imagining writing some good copy of what was featured in this house beyond where the party was being hosted, but all I could think about was getting somewhere private with this man.

“How many bedrooms?” I asked.

“More than they need...” he replied.

“You’ve seen them?”

He pressed harder against me. “Yes, I have...”

“Tell me about them...”

“Would you prefer, if I showed them to you?”

And I felt it again, the hardness in his pants against me. Desire washed over me. “Sounds good,” I whispered.

“Follow me,” he instructed.

He let me go and left the dance floor. I got the distinct feeling I wasn’t to follow him too closely. I made my way back into the crowd, watching him as he headed toward the grand stairwell. I waited until he was halfway up the stairs before I went in the same direction.

I was on the first step as I saw him disappear into the darkness of one of the corridors.

When I got there the corridor was completely dark. There was no sign of him.

“Angel?” I called. I felt silly, knowing it wasn’t his real name, but I didn’t know what else to call him.

“I’m here, Rose,” he said, from within the darkness.

And there he was, standing against a doorway, with one hand in his pocket, illuminated by the flood lights from outside. He extended his hand, which I took. My knees barely keeping me upright, I followed him into the room. He closed the door behind us.

Once we were in the room he let go of my hand. He put another cigarette in his mouth and casually lit it. “This is one of the guest rooms,” he said, taking a drag.

The room was very striking. A large luxurious bed covered in pillows sat at the back of the room, a sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling. A huge ebony dressing table with diamond drawer handles sat opposite the bed. An equally huge mirror sat on top of the dressing table.

As I stepped toward him, he took the rose out of his breast pocket. He brushed the rose against my face, down my cheek, under my jaw, down my chest, over my cleavage. He inhaled on the cigarette, it exhaled through his nose.

“My beautiful Rose...” he said, softly.

I couldn’t answer him. The sexual tension between us was so thick you could slice it with a knife. Breathless, I reached up and stroked his face as he carefully fastened the rose behind my ear. Then he walked away from my touch and went over to the dressing table, where he stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray. I found myself following him to the dressing table, where I stood in front of it, looking in the mirror.

He stood behind me. As he pressed against me, my breath caught. I felt his hardness against my ass. He put his arms past my waist, his hands meeting the edge of the table. He put his head next to mine. We both looked at each other in the reflection, through our masks.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said huskily.

Was he talking about the mirror, or the reflection in it? I couldn’t find the words to ask; instead I lifted my hand to his face. His mouth met my ear, kissing my ear, then slowly down my neck. I tried to remove his mask, but he moved his face away from my hand. As I pushed my hair over my shoulder, he kissed the nape of my neck. His hands moved from the edge of the dressing table to the front of my dress.I felt the hardness in his pants getting larger as he ran his hands over my breasts.

“Tell me what you want, Rose Thornton,” he breathed into my ear.

He ripped the mask off my face, causing the rose to fall out of my hair. It landed on the dressing table along with the mask. As he clasped my breasts with both hands, he eyed me, unmasked, in the mirror. His hand lowered down past my stomach, reaching my pussy through my red dress, his fingers meeting the most sensitive part. I let out a soft cry as the sensations gushed through me.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered again.

“I want an Angel,” I gasped back.

“How do you want me?”

I gripped the edge of the dressing table, the flesh between my legs throbbing as he ran his fingers over my sex, and over my nipples through my dress. “Inside me.”

His hands left my front, and went to the back of my dress. He lifted my dress up to my waist, I felt my underwear sliding down, and I could hear his zipper coming undone. His hands came back around my waist and held me tight. His cock was hard against the back of my thighs.

His cock slid up toward my entrance from behind, but he hesitated before entering me. His hand returned to my front, where he found my clit again, circling it with his middle finger. “Do you really want this?” he whispered.

“Yes!” I panted.

I cried out as his cock slid into me, my hand reaching up to grasp his face again. He put his hand over mine on his face, and slid his cock back out, then straight back in. His finger still pressed on my clit, pushing down, making me cry out again.

I leaned toward the mirror, my eyes not leaving his in the reflection through his mask, as he thrusted into me from behind. He fucked me harder, making me double over the dressing table, and I started moaning as his cock kept slamming into me, his hand still working my clit.

I came fast, shuddering over the table. I captured my face in the mirror, contorted in ecstasy, but I wasn’t done yet. I wrestled out from his grasp, releasing myself from his cock, and turned around to face him. He stood before me, his hard on pointing toward me beneath the white shirt of his tuxedo. I undid my dress; it slid to the ground.

I reached out and stroked his face, and his hand met mine. He ran his hand down my arm as I traced his jaw line.

I touched the tip of his mask, and once again he took my hand away. He pulled me into him, kissing me deeply, as I melted into his arms. This man was so familiar, yet still a stranger. His cock met my sex again, and I moaned as he slid back inside me. He hoisted me up around his waist, his hard cock impaling me as he carried me over to the bed. He almost threw me onto the mattress.

The bed was high enough for him to continue standing as he fucked me, thrusting harder and harder into me as I held my legs tight around his waist. My pussy clamped harder around his cock as I felt myself begin to climax again, and we came at the same time as he moaned loudly, filling me with his warm ejaculation. We were both still for a few seconds, catching our breath.

I reached up and stroked his face, my fingers touching the outline of his mask again. This time, he didn’t try to stop me. I gave it a gentle nudge upward, waiting for him to protest, but he didn’t. His mask finally came away in my hand.

In the dark light, the silhouette of a very good looking man looked silently back at me. There was some scarring on his forehead and cheek bones, not terribly, but it was there. It looked like remnants of perhaps bad acne or a skin infection. He did look familiar, but still I could not recollect where from.

“What is your real name?” I whispered, running my fingers over the scars on his face.

He pulled himself out of me and did up his pants. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a business card. He handed it to me. It was too dark to read, and I realised that was his intention.

“Give me a call,” he said. And with that, he was gone.

I lay naked on the bed for a few minutes, trying to get my thoughts together. Part of me thought I should put the card away and look at it in the morning. I should get back downstairs and do what I was there to do—while I was still sober enough. But curiosity got the better of me, and I got off the bed, going straight to the light switch.

My jaw dropped as I saw the name on the card. It jumped out at me, almost hitting me in the face.

I sat back down on the bed, and looked at it again, in shock. How could I ever forget the name Jack Pearson?

Jack Pearson. The overweight, acne ridden, thirteen-year-old boy with braces, whom I had babysat all those years ago. The genius who was already doing university papers. The boy I used to call Angel, because he was such a sweetheart. The boy who gave me a rose the last time I saw him, telling me he was in love with me. The nephew of the business legend, Roger Pearson, the rich powerful uncle I had never met.

I looked at the business card again, this time seeing the title “Vice President” emblazoned under his name.

I knew what my story would be tomorrow, about the twenty-six-year-old, once shy little boy who was all grown up, next in line to run his uncle’s huge corporation.

And we would meet again. Unmasked.

Wedding Bells

My wedding day was not traditional, not in any sense of the word. For starters, we got married at someone else’s wedding. And I wore black. And we’d been engaged for less than an hour before we tied the knot. But my relationship with Jaron had never been traditional. He had been my former boss, and until our wedding day—and night—we hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for three years.

I’ll never forget the day I met Jaron, and it took me some time to decide whether I regretted it or not. I was working as a temp executive assistant, and the day before I had got a call from the temp agency saying I was required to work for some big cheese at an IT company for about three months.

I arrived at my new assignment the next morning, and my new boss kept me waiting in reception for nearly two hours. The receptionist was embarrassed, and kept offering me coffee. I decided I’d wait for two hours—I would be charging for my time—and if he still hadn’t shown up by then I would leave. I had better things to do than wait for some fool who was obviously so full of his own importance he couldn’t even make time to send someone else to meet me. With one minute to go, I stood up to leave, and the doors swung open. A tall man with thick brown hair and wild blue eyes stomped into reception. His eyes settled on me.

“Are you my temp?” he barked.

“I wouldn’t know,” I replied coolly. “My name is Danni Moran and I’m here to see Jaron McLachlan.”

“I’m Jaron,” he snapped. “Follow me.”

He turned around and went back through the swinging doors. I gave the receptionist an odd look, she gave me an embarrassed shrug. A little voice told me not to follow him, but to leave the building, this man was not going to enhance my life in any way. But something drew me through the doors, possibly morbid curiosity or a sense of masochism, or both. I swallowed hard, I had a feeling I was going to regret this.

He was already far ahead of me when I got on the other side, but I made sure I did not hurry after him; I do not hurry after anyone. He didn’t bother to turn around as I followed him all the way to the other side of the open plan office, and as I walked, I noticed heads raising above the partitions to watch me. I noticed the looks between people, the sympathetic stares they gave me. I sighed inwardly; what on earth had I got myself into? But I’d been doing this job for over ten years; big bully executives didn’t faze me.

Being an executive assistant can be an odd job. It is quite a unique job, for a start, you only work at the top of an organisation, because only very senior people have an EA. It can be amazing, or it can be hell, it depends entirely on your boss. Your entire job is centred around that person, and if you don’t get along, then your working life is miserable. If you do get along, it can be very rewarding.

People ask why I do it, and I do it because I love organising and support. I like being part of a big organisation and working at the top, but I have no interest in being accountable for financial results. I do not want that type of responsibility, so I had a choice of either working in human resources or being an EA. To work in HR, it appears you need a prerequisite to be a useless fuckwit, and I wanted no part of that world, so EA it was.

Jaron finally turned around, but he didn’t wait until I was near enough to start talking.

“What’s your name again?” he shouted.

I didn’t answer, I wasn’t shouting across the office. He eyed me as I made my way closer, I saw his lip start to curl, but too bad.

“My name is Danni,” I said when I was close enough.

He shoved a folder into my arms. “I need that in date order in the next hour,” he grunted, pointing at a desk outside his office. “That is where you will sit.”

I put the folder on the desk—my desk.

“Can you speak Japanese?”

“Japanese? No,” I replied. “But I can speak some Portuguese?” I’d once had a Brazilian boyfriend, but I didn’t bring that up.

“Portuguese? That’s of no use to me!” He looked me up and down. “Unfortunately, you won’t get a handover,” he said. “I fired your predecessor yesterday; she was a useless bitch. So you will learn this job through trial and error.” He eyed me again. “Except there’s no room for error.”

He stepped into his office and slammed the door. I stood next to my desk for a few seconds, trying to absorb what had just happened. This guy was something else. Part of my job sometimes requires me to be a lion tamer; I shouldn’t have to be, but some people at the top can be rather wild, and they need taming. So far, I’ve never failed. This job was gonna be interesting.

I sat at my new desk. I could still feel many eyes on me. When I raised my head in their direction all the heads lowered back down again. A little man with glasses appeared from around the corner.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied.

“Erh, sorry about him,” he said, gesturing toward Jaron’s door. “He’s uh, extremely clever,” he continued, “but a bit, hmm, how should I put this...?”

“A bit of an asshole,” I offered.

The little man laughed.

“Well, that’s one way to put it,” he said. “He’s actually not a bad person, he’s just a bit...mad.” he whispered.

“I see,” I replied. “Tell me, what happened to the last person?”

“Oh,” he said, looking embarrassed. “She only lasted a week, and she stormed out yesterday. No one knows if she jumped or she was pushed.”

“And what number am I?” I asked.

“We’ve lost count,” he replied. “We’re now counting bets over how long you will last.”

He winked and went to leave. I stuck my hand out. “I’m Danni, by the way.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m Wayne. From HR.”

Right. Some HR person he was going to be. I was definitely gonna be on my own with this one. As Wayne scurried away, I could see my new boss through the glass wall darting around his office with his head set on, his arms flaying about. I saw him thump the wall. He was clearly having an intense conversation with someone.

I settled at my desk and turned on the computer. I finished putting the folder in date order in less than twenty minutes. I watched Jaron again through the glass. He was actually a nice looking man, but I could tell he wasn’t aware of it. I found a copy of his passport in one of the folders, he was thirty-eight, only seven years older than me. That was young for someone so senior; this was the first time I’d had a boss under forty. I found more details and discovered he designed and ran all the cloud computing for the major banks and airlines in the country. He also had five-hundred staff working under him.

While I waited for him to give me something else to do, I scanned wedding dresses on Google. I was getting married in nine months, and was looking for a dress.

The door to his office flew open and he came flying out. I clicked out of the window displaying wedding dresses and pretended to type.

“Woman, can you take minutes?” he barked.

I looked straight ahead at my computer screen, and continued typing.

“Can you take minutes?” he repeated.

I didn’t look at him.

“Lady, are you deaf?” he roared.

I stood up, and faced him with my hands on my hips.

“Now you listen to me—man!” I said sternly. “My name is Danni, not woman. And I am here to help you. To help you, I need you to help me. And you can start by calling me by my name and having some manners!”

He looked very taken aback, and we stood staring at each other for a few moments. I noticed the whole area around us had gone quiet, too. Then he burst out laughing.

“Very well, Danni,” he said.

He put on a different tone, a rather condescending tone, but a better mannered one nonetheless.

“Could you please escort me to this next meeting?” he asked. “Where I would like you to record some minutes for me?”

“That’s a bit better...” I replied.

And that was the beginning of my relationship with Jaron McLachlan.

I picked up a pad and pen and followed him to a meeting room. I concealed a smirk as eyes followed us, the looks of incredulity and delight on the faces of the other staff told me it was clearly the first time someone had put this man in his place so publicly.

After that first encounter, he was far more polite, but as I said earlier about being a lion tamer, he would still try and revert back to his bad mannered ways, and I would have to put him in his place again. It was both exciting and exhausting, but Jaron was a very interesting man, and there was never a dull moment with him. He actually had a very good sense of humour, and he was aware he was difficult to work with. He would even joke about how he couldn’t believe people put up with him. He was fluent in Japanese, and I discovered the reason he had asked whether I could speak it was because we had a lot of dealings with our office in Japan. But the Japanese staff spoke excellent English, so my ignorance of the language was never an issue.

It was my first time working in the IT industry, and I quickly realised my perception of IT workers was completely wrong. Before I worked there, I thought they would have to be a bunch of geeks, and while there was certainly an element of this, they were the cleverest, most witty and friendly people I had ever worked with.

Jaron, for all his rudeness and eccentricity, was actually a very kind person. When one of our team members ended up in hospital, he was extremely concerned and gave her all the time off she needed, also sending her a huge bouquet of flowers. He adored his ten-year-old twin daughters and was always talking about them. And while he could be a right twat to deal with as a boss, he adored his staff and would fiercely have our backs at all times.

He was highly regarded and respected for his expertise in cloud computing, and reported directly to Miranda, the CEO, and I could tell he was a favourite of hers. The rumour was that he was in line to take her place when she eventually left.

Somehow I could not imagine Jaron as the CEO. A big part of a CEO’s role is PR skills and people skills, and Jaron would struggle with both; he couldn’t leave a thought unsaid. He was one of these people who had a high IQ but a much lower EQ. He was brilliant at his job, but his people skills left a lot to be desired. But I was good at dealing with these types, I never took his behaviour personally and took no shit from him.

My first three months working with him were great. He ended up asking me to stay on permanently and I accepted. I got high fives from the other staff; apparently no one had bet I would last. When I noticed Jaron seemed to be getting more and more stressed out, I knew it had nothing to do with work. His wife would ring incessantly, and he would shut the door, but I could still hear him arguing with her. When he hung up, he would avoid speaking to anyone for a while, including me.

One day I had to speak to him about something urgent. I opened the door.

“Fuck off,” he said, not taking his eyes off his computer screen.

“Don’t you tell me to fuck off!” I snapped.

He glared at me.

“What is the problem, Jaron?” I asked.

“I’m having problems with my wife, all right!” he snapped back.

“Well, that’s nothing to do with me,” I replied. “Here, this is from Miranda; you need to sign it.”

I left the document on his desk and left. I felt his pain. Unlike him, I didn’t bring my problems to work, but I, too, was having relationship problems. My fiancée, Mark, and I were on the rocks. We’d been together for seven years, and due to marry in six months. It’s just the seven year itch, I kept telling myself, and we’ll get through it.

Jaron came steaming through the door. “What is this fucking shit?” he demanded angrily, pointing at the document from the CEO.

I glared at him, I was in no mood for one of his moods.

“Oh, for fucks sake, I need a coffee.” He sighed. “Will you come with me? My treat.”

We had coffee together from time to time, and I always looked forward to those times. Jaron would usually joke around about his difficult clients and how his wife was giving him grief. I felt sorry for the poor bitch, being married to him. But this time we went to the bar next door, and Jaron ordered a double whiskey on the rocks. I ordered a coke. I was wearing a new pearl necklace that day, a gift from my mother.

Jaron eyed my necklace. “That is a very nice necklace,” he said. “What is it about pearls that make a woman so sexy when they wear them?”

I felt slightly uncomfortable; he’d never spoken to me like that before. “They enhance the neck,” I suggested.

“No, they enhance an already beautiful neck,” he said slowly.

Our knees touched under the table, and something happened that had never happened before. A surge of heat filled me between my legs. It shot up to my face as well, and I felt my cheeks flush. My mouth went dry. I could tell he felt it, too. A strange sexual tension enveloped us.

Jaron swallowed hard. We both looked at the table awkwardly. “I’m sick of this fuckin job,” he finally said, swigging his drink.

“You’re just having a bad day,” I replied, barely getting my voice out.

Jaron snorted. “Everywhere I turn, I got goddamn women busting my balls, my wife, my boss, my two daughters. You!”

I’d had enough. “Fuck you, Jaron,” I said, and walked out.

When he returned to the office, I could tell he was drunk. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, going into his office and closing the door.

He went to Japan that night, and when he returned after a few days, a bottle of top-shelf, duty-free whisky was sitting on my desk. “What’s this for?” I asked.

“For putting up with me,” he said, smiling.

I saw Miranda join him in his office. His boss certainly ran an odd ship. As much as we had good results, bad behaviour flourished. While it was never spoken of, and providing there was nothing too overt, drunkenness was quite accepted at work, as were rampant affairs and bully behaviour amongst staff. Jaron should never have gotten away with his behaviour, but Miranda was the type of CEO who was all about results, not processes; she wasn’t interested in details. And if something staff-related needed to be dealt with, she got her Chief Operating Officer, Paul Finch, to deal with it. Finch was a nasty little man who got off on being a bully. He did not like Jaron, but as long as Miranda liked him, then Finch couldn’t touch him. Jaron had enough sense to know which boundaries he could push as far as he could before he got in trouble.

We had worked together now for nine months, but things weren’t like they were. I was having more problems with Mark, and it was affecting my job. Whereas I had been able to deal with Jaron’s behaviour, it was becoming harder because I was becoming fragile. And I could tell he was having more problems with his wife, causing him to be more difficult to deal with. Unlike my fiancée, whom I could avoid talking to for a few days when I was mad at him, Jaron was my boss and avoiding him wasn’t an option. I was stuck with him five days a week.

Even when he was overseas, he would call me incessantly during the day. Once again the uniqueness of my job struck me. I was stuck with this man five days a week for over fifty hours, much more time than I spent with the man I had at home. I would get a hard time at home, then get a hard time at work. I had nowhere to escape. I just put my head down and tried to get on with it.

I knew I should’ve called my wedding off, but it was now two weeks away and I couldn’t bear the thought of telling over one hundred guests to cancel coming. I decided I would go through with it and deal with our issues afterward. But Mark had other ideas. Only ten days before the wedding, he told me we were over and the wedding was off. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. I was absolutely shattered.

I went to the next day in a daze. I was barely at my desk for a minute before Jaron burst out of his office.“What the fuck is wrong with these minutes?” he roared.

“What? What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You’ve sent me the minutes to the wrong meeting!” he yelled. He slammed the minutes on my desk.

“Send me the right ones—now!”

His door slammed shut. I looked at the minutes; how the hell did I manage to do that? Clearly I hadn’t been concentrating. I looked at the back of his office door. And suddenly felt rage boiling up inside me. Bastard. How dare he speak to me like that!

I picked up the minutes, and went into his office. He was already talking to someone on that stupid headset. He gave me a WTF look as I stood there with the minutes clenched in my hand, but I was so angry I couldn’t speak. I bunched up the minutes into a ball, then hurled it at his head. He quickly moved and it hit the wall. He looked completely stunned. But I wasn’t done.

“Get off that damn phone, you son of a bitch!” I screamed.

Jaron quickly disconnected the call, but he was still so stunned he said nothing as he stared at me. That made me even wilder, and I grabbed the closest thing I could find, a glass framed certificate on the wall, and I hurled that at his head too, he darted out of the way. He finally found his voice.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled.

“I’m not your goddamn slave!” I yelled back. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Lord fucking Muck!”

“Get out of my office!”

“Fuck you!”

But I was already on my way out. By then we had attracted quite a crowd, but at the sight of me, they all scattered back to their desks. I snatched up my bag, marched away from my desk, out of the building and to the carpark. I got in my car and drove home. As soon as I got in the driveway and stopped the car, I burst into tears. My wedding was off and I had to tell everyone, and I’d just had a huge fight with my boss. I started to feel faint, it was all too overwhelming.

But I felt something else as well, it was undeniable. I wasn’t sure how, or when, but somewhere along the line, I had fallen in love with this mad man who was my boss.

I could no longer work for Jaron McLachlan.

Within an hour he was texting, asking where I was. I’ve gone home, I replied, I’m not coming back. He came back apologising, almost begging me to return. He knew he’d acted badly and deserved what I did. After a week, I still hadn’t returned to work. He tried to call, but I didn’t answer. He told me he didn’t want to do this, but if I didn’t return to work the next day, he would have to terminate my employment and hire someone else. I didn’t answer, and that was the last I heard from him for three years.

I found myself another job as EA to a senior partner at an accounting firm. He was a mouse of a man, who barely came out of his office and would barely talk to me, sending his requests via email. And that was where I stayed for three years. In a way it was the perfect job, I considered it a form of hibernation.

Three years later, I ran into a former colleague in the supermarket. She said I was still talked about at my old job, and greatly missed, but that Jaron had now left as well. There had been many changes. Miranda had moved on, but instead of Jaron being appointed to the CEO role, Paul Finch got it. Finch had made Jaron’s life hell until he resigned. He’d moved overseas and no one had heard from him again. His wife had not joined him; they were over.

I felt a lump in my throat. As difficult as Jaron could be, he didn’t deserve to be forced out of his job. When my former colleague departed, I felt the tears drip down my face. I was still in love with Jaron three years on, and I missed him terribly. But I still couldn’t face contacting him.

Luckily I was distracted. I had a wedding to go to that weekend. Louise, an old friend of mine from high school, was getting married. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. Ever since my own wedding had been cancelled, I didn’t exactly look forward to going to anyone else’s nuptials.

I arrived at the wedding that weekend, sporting a brand new dress I was quite proud of, a slinky black gown that looked perfect with the pearl necklace my mother had given me.

I took my place on the chairs in the gardens outside a giant old estate that was now a hotel, where the wedding reception would take place later that night, and where the bride and groom had booked their honeymoon suite.

I watched lazily as the groom and his groomsmen took their places at the altar, then they turned around. My heart leapt into my mouth. There, standing amongst the four groomsmen, was Jaron McLachlan. I felt my heart start racing. My hands got clammy, and the blood in my veins started thumping very hard, especially between my thighs.

I heard nothing as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, all I could concentrate on was Jaron, who hadn’t seen me yet. He had changed a bit since I’d last seen him, he looked thinner, and there were shots of grey through his hair. But he still looked great.

Finally, the wedding vows were over, and everyone circled excitedly around the bride and groom to express congratulations and have photos with them. I looked around wildly for Jaron, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, and came face to face with the boss I had walked out on three years earlier.

“Hello. Woman!” he said, smiling.

I put my hands on my hips. “Now, you listen to me—man!”

Jaron’s face broke into a grin, and he grabbed me into a big bear hug. Neither of us let go for a long time.

“Oh my God,” he said, into my hair. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I know,” I said, with my eyes closed.

We finally unlocked our embrace.

“How do you know them?” I asked, gesturing at Louise and her husband.

“Went to school with John,” he replied.

“I went to school with Louise!” I said.

“Let’s get a drink,” he said.

We went to the drinks table, where he poured us both a wine, as he told me he had gone to work in Japan, but he was now back for good; he couldn’t bear being so far from his kids any longer. We took a seat in the garden. He asked me what the hell had happened, what had he done to make me walk out on him and never return. I told him about my break up, and he sat there listening. Jaron had definitely mellowed since I last saw him; he never used to listen, unless it was to respond.

He no longer had the wildness in his blue eyes; he was much calmer, more mature perhaps. I guess losing your wife and your job at the same time can do that to you. But we weren’t there long before he was called to join the wedding party for photos.

“Now, I’ll be back. Please don’t leave this time!” he said.

I grinned at him. The photos took forever, especially because I didn’t know anyone else at the wedding, which made the time go slower and slower. When the photos were done it was time to move into the estate for the reception, where Jaron was required to sit with the wedding party. I sat at a table with three couples who largely ignored me as they conversed with each other.

Finally, when the speeches were over, the main courses were served, and the dancing began, Jaron and I were reunited. We went outside in the garden, where we continued our conversation, about work, our failed relationships, and where we were now. We were both single, somewhat still reeling over our broken lives. The wine still flowed, and we became more and more open with each other.

“Geez, I was a right prick to you, wasn’t I?” he asked.

I sipped my wine. “You were at times,” I said. “But as much as I tried, I could never hate you. And that...”

“…was the most frustrating part?” he finished for me.

I gave him a shove. “You took the words out of my mouth.”

“No wonder you walked out,” he said, laughing. “I deserved a punch in the nose!”

We found ourselves alone on a bench in the garden. It was a full moon, and the brightness reflected through the trees illuminating our best features in the dark. Jaron looked very handsome in his black tuxedo. He eyed my pearls, the same ones I had worn that day in the bar, the day something in the wind had changed between us.

“My, those pearls make you look so beautiful,” he said softly, gazing at me. “Especially in the moonlight...”

“Do you remember that day I first wore them?” I asked him quietly.

“How could I forget,” he replied, breaking his gaze, sipping his wine.

I eyed him in the dark, and he finally returned my gaze. He lowered his wine onto the seat. My attraction to him was now at a peak; I was on fire between my legs. I reached my hand out and touched his shoulder.

“Jaron...” I said softly.

And then his mouth was on mine. He kissed me like no other, and everything I had ever felt for this man came bubbling to the surface—rage, adoration, frustration, adulation, detestation, loss, and above all, lust. My arms wrapped around his neck as he embraced me around the waist. I raised my leg over his lap, and he lowered his hand to the outside of my thigh, running it up toward my ass, pushing my dress up higher. He pulled me up onto his lap. I could feel the hardness in his pants, pushing against me. He released my mouth from his kiss and buried his face into my neck, inside my hair. I lay my head on his muscular shoulder.

“Oh my God, Danni,” he breathed. “You have no idea how much I have missed you.”

He kissed my neck, and I felt the swelling in his pants getting larger, harder. He slipped my dress straps down my arms, until my breasts slipped out. He ran his hands over my breasts, thumbing my nipples until they hardened.

“Wow, your tits are amazing,” he whispered. “I always wondered what they looked like.”

I pretended to slap his face. “Sleaze,” I teased.

I leaned into him and kissed him again, the swell of heat in my own pants becoming a raging fire. I wanted him inside me so badly it was starting to hurt between my legs. Without talking, I pulled my straps up, got up from his lap and took his hand, we had to find a place where we could consummate our feelings.

But Jaron did something so unexpected, and so outrageous, for lack of a better word, that I still shake my head in bewilderment to this day.

Still with my hand in his, he got on his knees.

“Danni Moran, will you marry me?”

“What?” I exclaimed.

He stood up, and took me by the waist.

“Danni, you’ve seen me at my best and my worst,” he said softly. “You know me better than anyone.” He took my face in his hands. “I love you, Danni Moran.”

He kissed me again as I was still staring at him. When our lips broke away I was in a daze. When I came to my senses, if you can call it that, I realised, yes, I would marry this man, because I loved him, too. More now than I had ever realised. But I couldn’t answer him, instead I planted my mouth back on his. He held me tight as we kissed again.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, when I finally released his lips.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“How about right now?”

“What?” I exclaimed again.

“You know me, I’m an impatient bastard. I can’t stand long waits. We’re in this beautiful setting, we have a wedding celebrant right here, we’re in wedding clothes, why not now?”

“I’m wearing black. And we haven’t even had sex yet!” I said, in a daze again.

“What’s wrong with black? And how many people have sex the first time on their actual wedding night?” he asked. “Let’s be different. If you don’t mind getting a ring later...”

I hadn’t even thought about a ring. Man, Jaron was still something else, and still full of surprises. I finally laughed. Nothing could be better with this man, or worse. I’d seen everything with him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and gazed up at him.

“Okay, Jaron McLachlan, I will become your wife, right here, right now.”

He kissed me again. Then took my hand and led me inside, we had to find the wedding celebrant, who was a friend of the couple and a guest at the wedding reception. Though Jaron first reserved a room upstairs for the night and got the key.

Jaron finally found the celebrant sitting in the corner with the bride’s grandparents, rather drunk. I saw her give him a very strange look once she heard his request. But she got up and walked with him over to where I stood at the door.

“I have some papers in the car,” she said, slightly slurring, still looking at us like we were mad. “Meet me in the garden.”

Jaron grabbed one of the waiters to act as a witness. He, too, looked at us like we were mad.

In the garden we stood, Jaron and I holding hands as the drunk celebrant conducted our tiny ceremony and the waiter looked at us like we were a couple of lunatics.

“Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?” she asked Jaron.

Jaron took both my hands and looked me deep in the eyes. “I do,” he said.

“Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?” she asked me. “I do,” I whispered.

“You may kiss your bride.”

Jaron leaned toward me and our lips met. I felt as though I were falling off a cliff. I realised I had never been in love with Mark, not like this. As strange as my relationship with Jaron was, this was always the way it was going to go. I realised I had always known, right from the day we had met.

I heard the celebrant clear her throat, and we finally parted. We quickly signed the papers, and the celebrant and waiter disappeared back inside.

Jaron held me again. I suddenly didn’t feel the need to rush upstairs and ravage him. I just wanted to stand here forever, in his arms, but as more and more people filed out of the wedding, the crowd thinning out, Jaron whispered, “Shall we go upstairs, wife?”

“Yes, husband,” I answered.

Jaron led me upstairs. Our room wasn’t the honeymoon suite, but it was just as impressive. A huge canopied bed sat at the back of the room, inviting us in. The room was illuminated by the brightness of the full moon outside. I looked at Jaron, and the lust I had felt for him earlier returned with a vengeance. I was all over him; he was all over me. Our mouths and hands were everywhere as our clothes ripped off and dropped on the floor. And I finally saw his cock. It was huge as it pointed up at me, but before I could touch it, he had dropped to his knees in front of me, clasping my ass with both hands.

He looked up into my eyes as he kissed down my stomach. My breath quickened, knowing where he was going. I gasped as his mouth reached the sensitive raging hot skin between my legs that was now soaking wet. I gripped my hands in his hair as he teased me with his mouth and tongue. His tongue moving around my folds and flicking over my clit sent shocks of pleasure all over me. I moaned as he sucked on my clit.

But the bed beckoned me. “Baby,” I gasped. When he looked up at me,“The, the bed…” was all I could get out.

He stood up, and swept me off the floor and into his arms. He kissed me again as he carried me to the bed, laying me out on the mattress before lying beside me. I could finally touch his cock. I took it in my hand and stroked him up and down. He let out soft moans at my touch as he stroked my breasts. I then moved over and straddled him over his knees, and lowered my head over his cock.

He held my gaze as I wrapped my lips around his head and took him deep inside my mouth. He rolled his head back as my lips came back up his shaft, his fingers running through my hair. “You are so amazing,” he whispered.

I sucked him a bit longer, but I wanted to do what we were ultimately here to do. I released his cock. “Shall we get in bed?” I asked quietly.

“Yes,” he smiled.

We got under the covers. The bedding was extremely luxurious, with one-thousand-thread sheets and the most deluxe duvet I had ever touched. We faced each other in bed on our sides. Jaron, my husband, stroked my face. I realised I was still wearing my pearl necklace. He kissed my lips, lowering his mouth to my neck and kissing around my necklace.

“I could never get the image of you wearing that pearl necklace out of my mind,” he said softly, kissing me again. “You were absolutely breathtaking. You still are.”

We held each other in bed, until I rested on my back, raising my left knee and parting my legs, beckoning him. He met me on top, getting between them. I wrapped my legs around his waist under the covers, and I could finally feel him at my entrance. I gasped as he entered me; it had been so long since I’d had a man inside me, but Jaron was extremely gentle. He didn’t start thrusting immediately. Instead we made out as he let himself simply be inside me, but before long our kisses became hungrier; I wanted, needed, this man to fuck the life back into me. I ran my fingers up and down his back, digging my manicured nails hard into his shoulders. “Jaron....” I whimpered into his ear.

His cock drew out of me, and I cried out as it slammed back in. I arched my back as his hands clasped my breasts, his mouth at my throat—kissing, sucking under my jaw, kissing down toward my chest. I writhed and thrashed underneath him on the magnificent bed as he hammered into me. He took my nipples into his mouth and sucked them hard. I thrust my hips up higher against his to meet him as he kept driving into me, the full moon flooding into the room as our silhouettes moved around on the wall.

His mouth met my ear as he held me tight. “Danni,” he panted, thrusting into me even harder.

I felt myself begin to tighten around him, everywhere, my knees buckling, I grabbed the back of his head as I cried out, and he held me tighter as I had the most intense orgasm of my life. I shuddered and convulsed under him as he held me in his arms. Then before I had finished, he stiffened all over, his jaw clenching as he exploded inside me. I felt his warm liquid filling me deep inside, and I collapsed back on the pillows.

He lay down next to me, putting his head next to mine. And I realised I hadn’t yet told him I loved him. I stroked his face. “I love you,” I whispered.

He kissed me. “I love you too,” he whispered back, between kisses.

As I lay in my husband’s arms, eyes drifting closed, I couldn’t believe what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. I had woken up this morning, dreading going to my friend’s wedding. I had arrived sad and alone, and in the same day I had been reunited with the love of my life. And I had become his wife. Our friends were going to get a shock in the morning when they discovered they were having their honeymoon at the same time as ours.

I felt Jaron stir. “Danni?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“If I’m Lord Fucking Muck, does that make you Lady Fucking Muck?”

“Fuck you!”

We both burst out laughing as he grabbed me around my waist, pulling me on top of him. We were ready to go again. He held my hips as I threw my head back, riding him up and down as he thrust up into me. And I smiled to myself.

I will never forget the day I met Jaron McLachlan. And I will never regret it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jade Stone

Jade Stone is a New Zealand based writer.

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

First Serve

Hot Seat

The Long Kiss Goodnight

Lullaby Baby

Miss Demeanour

Swimming Lessons

Strawberry Punch

Under the Mistletoe

Unmasked

Wedding Bells

ABOUT THE AUTHOR