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Apple

By: Falcon4451



The Slave Girl knelt in the orchard; she picked apples carefully from the ground, checking each one to ensure it was the best she could find. As she looked at an apple that had been damaged by an insect, made rotten inside; she smiled. Picking it up she felt a small burst of fear and excitement, she looked again at the apple, and said to herself;" I must do this today."

She placed the rotten apple in the basket and stood, her heart starting to pound softly, as she committed herself to her decision.

She stood and walked out of the orchard, her bare feet on the soft grass. As she walked back into the courtyard; a large circular space, covered in light gravel; she felt the mild discomfort on the soles of her feet as she walked onto the gravel. She remembered a time when another girl had been caught wearing slippers she had found. The girl unaware that slaves were forbidden to wear shoes. She remembered the excitement as the girl was discovered, taken into the courtyard, and bastinadoed before the entire household. A brutal and humiliating eastern punishment, she remembered feeling the strange sensation of excitement as she had watched the punishment.

She walked past a post at the centre of the courtyard, A smooth wooden post about 7 feet in height, its sand base covered in bare foot prints. She looked at the post briefly in fascination, as she had done many times. She felt its power and looked at the apple, if her plan worked, this piece of fruit would lead her to this post. Her heart pounded harder at the thought.

She entered the great hall and approached the master, who was sipping wine at his throne; she placed the basket of fruit on the table next to the master and took her place on the furs before the throne.

Her heart pounding now, the anticipation; the excitement was electric within her. She had done all she need, now; the anticipation, such a powerful feeling, possessed her as she waited.

She glanced around, the master continued to sip his wine, the apple that would seal her fate in the basket next to him. He drank and she waited, the excitement, overwhelming.

Before she could dare a glance, things happened quickly. The master selected the rotten apple, though she could not see, he bit into it, making a noise of disgust. Her heart pounded as she heard his words, "Her," she could feel his accusing finger pointed toward her.

As quickly as she looked round she was grabbed by two guards and made to stand before him. At once she felt one emotion that she craved, no she was the centre of attention, all eyes on her, the mixture of fear and humiliation washed over her like a warm glow.

The master spoke in a low commanding hiss, "This apple is rotten girl" he snapped. She continued to look at the floor, her heart pounding, her face flushed red with the sudden attention. "You need a lesson" the Master hissed, nodding to the guards.

The guards acted swiftly, the first ripping off her dress and under garments, the second tying her wrists with a leather strap. She felt deeply sexual as her clothes were sharply removed, her breasts heaved and her nipples became erect. Her whole body flushed as she was suddenly naked in the room, many eyes upon her. She smelt the scent from the guards.

The Master barked a command, "Take her to the post." The guards gripped her arms and began to lead her to the door. She heard the Master snap his fingers and bark another command; "My Whip." Her heart skipped a beat, this is what she had hoped for, and the Master himself, not a soldier, would punish her. She had seen how expertly the Master used the whip, her plan was working.

She was manhandled into the courtyard, and saw the whipping post in the distance. People were already assembling, some out of fear some, out of interest. The Master insisted that the household be present at a flogging, so everyone was aware of the penalty for mistakes.

The guards dragged her forward; she shrugged them off, silently indicating that she would walk to the post unaided. Her heart pounding and flushed with her nakedness in full view, she began the walk, eyes fixed on the post. She held her head proud, the feelings of humility, fear and anticipation, made her body hot; her nipples were hard, erect, and her clitoris also became excited and throbbed. Her body on fire with a range of emotions.

She walked purposefully, the soles of her bare feet on the harsh gravel, her feet were hard however and she felt no discomfort as a free woman would. She tried not to look at the gathering crowd, but she felt their eyes on her, she was overcome with the feeling of attention, such a powerful and deeply sexual emotion.

She reached the post, stopping slightly before it to take in its beauty. She made another step and felt the soft sand under her feet, noticing the bucket of cool water that would be thrown over her body to signal the flogging was ended.

One of the guards made a motion for her to raise her bound wrists. She did this and felt the other guard lift her up so her bound hands slipped over the top of the 7 ft post. As she slid down the post her breasts rubbed against the smooth wood, the leather biding her hands came to rest on a peg at the other side of the post. Leaving her stretched on tiptoe, her back, buttocks and legs, even the soles of her feet vulnerable to the lash.

Her body was alive with excitement now, every nerve alive. She had never felt such attention, such sexual power, and such deep excitement. She felt the eyes of the crowd on her naked body, her heart beating like a drum. Her body on fire with sexual excitement. She found the she could rub on the post with her groin, starting this gently timing it with the powerful rhythm of her breathing.

She waited, it seemed for a long time, the anticipation almost over whelming. Excitement rather than fear possessed her. She knew the whip would be painful, but also knew the Masters skill with the whip. She was there to be punished, humiliated and taught a lesson, not to be permanently marked or injured.

Her heart leapt as she heard the heavy booted footsteps of the Master. His shining riding boots crunching the gravel as he approached. She could feel his piercing blue eyes surveying her naked body. She was able to catch a glimpse of him in a the reflective surface of a window. Tall with jet-black hair, he wore high riding boots and black tight fitting leather trousers. His solid chest was bare as he had taken his shirt off , she could just make out the single tailed flogger in his right hand.

His footsteps grew louder and she heard them stop. She saw his shadow and could feel his breath lightly wash over her neck. His hands reached forward and gathered her long hair, he gripped it tight and leaned to her ear. Pulling her hair down slightly he whispered in her ear, making her already excited body shiver with excitement. "I shall make you sweat girl" he said in a soft hiss. He tucked her hair down her right shoulder so her back was exposed. She pounded with excitement as the time was here, almost ready to release her first orgasm. She looked at the master's shadow on the ground, her first orgasm shot through her She gave a moan, which was mistaken for fear by the crowd, bucking on the post as the powerful release shot through her, making her body shiver as though she was in terror.

The Master gripped the handle of the flogger tightly, and gritted his teeth in anger. Using medium force he brought the whip down on the girls smooth shoulders. It licked across her skin like a hot tongue, making a loud LASH. She felt the first stroke in surprise, letting out a whimper as she felt the flogger lick over her. She was shocked by the pain, but soothed by how quickly it went to a dull warm feeling. The second stroke hit her in the small of the back, making her arch, LASH. She let out a low moan, "Ooooooaahhhhhhh," feeling her body building up for another release of ecstasy. The Third came over her buttocks, making her rise high on tip toes, then fall. The Fourth cam over her left shoulder making a large red line from her shoulder to the centre of her back. This time she let out a silent scream. The Fifth came over the centre of her back and licked around her body, striking both her breasts. She was surprised by this and yelped, as the flogger bit both her beasts, she felt herself lick the whipping post in lustful ecstasy, as she sensed that the Master was aroused by her reaction. Pleased with her action, the Master repeated the stroke with the Seventh lash. She rode up the post and for the first time let out a genuine scream, "Aaaaaaaaaghhhh." She was panting heavily now, fast rapid breathing, her body on fire with a mixture of pleasure and pain. The Eighth stroke hit the centre of her back, and her second orgasm exploded powerfully, she gushed her juices as her whole body shook with the most powerful release she had ever felt. Her legs gripped the post, as it was her lover, her toes clawed at the sand, as her body bucked under the power of her release.

She never felt the Ninth lash as she almost passed out with ecstasy, Her swollen clitoris throbbed hard. The final stroke slashed over her buttocks, making her grit her teeth. She slumped on the post allowing her bound wrists to take her weight. Her heart pounded, her body on fire with pleasure, endorphins making her light headed as if on a drug.

She gasped as the cool water from the pale was washed over her, cooling her naked body. Her powerful lust began to wane as she hung on the post. She smiled, her plan had worked, she had never felt such an experience. It was everything she had dreamed of and more. Her body ached with the exertion, not from resisting the beating but from the powerful feelings it produced.

She was half dazed with the powerful endorphins, produced by the body as a reward for enduring physical torment.

She saw the master had the whip to his aid and walk away. She smiled and silently whispered, "Thank You Master."

She waited to be taken down; a flogged slave was left on the post for a time, as an example. Then they were taken down and allowed to rest. She waited; content on the post, slowly calming down, the marks on her body receding.

Apple



For my darling across the waters. Your passions are endlessly inspiring. To my readers, please leave feedback and vote if you fancy this story... Or any others as you see fit. Thanks and enjoy. Kisses, YLA.

*

I tried to make the class environment a bit easier for Winter. She was just one of those girls. I gave her more leeway about not answering questions or raising her hand. If she came in looking as if she'd spent the better part of the night before without sleep, I didn't raise too much of a fuss when her eyelids began to flutter. To be honest, Winter never fit in with the popular crowd or, really, any group in school. She wouldn't fit in with the sorority girls in college, or later down the road, the perky mothers' clubs that were all the rage for trendy new housewives these days. To be even more honest, I liked and admired her specifically for that reason.

Spring was in the air. The cherry blossoms were opening to reveal radiant pink splendor. The air was redolent with the sharp green fragrance of newly emerging grass, and my college-prep English class had been stricken with an acute case of senioritis.

While the halls of Mont Blanc High were more tense than usual with all the underclassmen cramming for exams, the senior class moved through the worried younger students like a hot knife through butter. Self-assured that their freedom was at hand, there seemed to be a collective gaiety about most of them. All but quiet Winter T. Melan.

She had made her way through her senior year alone. Just as she had done every day for the last three years.

She'd never seemed to be truly happy from what I'd observed during my fledgling career at Mont Blanc as the "sexy young English teacher." The first two years had been spent getting to know my own teaching style, the other faculty, and just trying to keep organized and cool even when presented with the most difficult students.

This year, I tried to be friendlier in class and got out into the community more in an effort to meet some of the families behind the great—and not so great—kids I taught.

With just days remaining until graduation, I sat at my desk grading junior book reports. I thought about Winter's journey through her senior year of school. In October, when the east coast was draped with heavy skies, Winter seemed to enjoy the gray and drizzle the way a beach bunny enjoys the endless heat and blue of a perfect summer day. For reasons I couldn't fathom, I'd taken more of an interest in the quiet, bookish girl and longed to know more about her life and interests. She piqued my curiosity in much the same way a mystery novel would.

Winter lived on a farm and helped her mother bring in the various harvests from late spring to autumn. I'd try to make idle chatter with her when I stopped by the farmers market to pick up produce, maybe buy some squash and herbs and comment on the delicious produce they'd had grown this year. She'd merely offer me a solemn smile before returning her pretty nose to yet another book. Ms. Melan would give me cooking tips (I suppose being a young, single male allowed people to assume I was lacking in the kitchen, though my family was Portuguese and I'd been helping my mother cook since I could reach the stovetop). Winter would roll her pale blue eyes behind the pages of the latest horror or fantasy book she held.

She showed up for school after Halloween wearing a lovely opal pendant. I commented on it, and she turned bright red beneath the unruly mop of her ash blonde hair.

"Mom gave it to me for my birthday," she mumbled, slinking past my desk to her customary seat in the back of the room. She risked a few more glances my way than usual that day. I imagined her dancing among the falling leaves, her lustrous hair glowing in fading autumn afternoon light, maples and oaks showering her with gold, amber, russet, and mahogany leaves as if sending their own greeting card to assure the waif she wasn't alone on her special day.

There was gossip among the students that Winter's mother had given her an unconventional upbringing, and that she was allowed to roam the acreage behind their old farmhouse and even camp out there for as long as she wanted. The more salacious bent to that rumor was that Winter did a lot of nude swimming and sunbathing in her solitary summer months, and though it was horribly unprofessional, I'd catch myself admiring her narrow bottom or small, perky breasts beneath her shirts. I wondered what she'd look like in various stages of undress. I'd even caught myself fantasizing about how sexy she'd look in nothing but a T-shirt.

During December and January's firm frosty hold, the jocks and cheerleaders planned snowmobile trips, skiing trips, and many other merriments to enjoy the season. Winter lost her slight tan and seemed to withdraw more into herself, almost never offering comment or opinion on the latest work of Dickens or Shakespeare we were analyzing.

The first time I really saw a hint of the woman she'd quietly become happened on Valentine's Day. She arrived in class without her usual well-worn jacket and even more worn boots, tight jeans, and tighter T-shirt, opting instead for a red poet style blouse, flowing black skirt, red heels, and a pair of nude stockings. Her hair was pulled back into a tail and held in place with a black velvet bow. She had put on a hint of tinted lip gloss and a heady floral perfume.

It was amazing to see her entire face, for once not obscured by a hanging fringe of bangs. She was truly beautiful in a dainty way with her fine nose, small mouth, and positively hypnotic eyes. Even the delicate nose stud and silver eyebrow ring she wore seemed to suit her. She carried herself with more confidence, which the boys surreptitiously noticed when they thought no one was watching.

"Did you see Winter Melan's transformation?" Kelly Vance, the art teacher gaped, as we happened to bump into each other in the lounge. "It's like High Class for the Emo Lass got a hold of her. All that effort over some guy she met through an online friend of a friend. It's so sad."

I paused in the process of warming up some leftovers from the night before. "Why? I think she looks nice."

"Oh, she does," Kelly hastily agreed. "But the guy's a sophomore at MIT. I talked to Jenna Melan at the grocery store a couple days ago. He's supposed to pick up Winter and take her out on a date tonight. But you know these guys. He won't show, or worse, he's just out for a..." She trailed off with a meaningful lift of her eyebrows.

I bit my tongue. Winter's mother probably gave the information to Kelly because the art teacher wouldn't stop prying, which Kelly did with abandon.

Kelly sipped her flavored water and offered a sympathetic smile. "I feel so sorry for her not having enough friends that she feels she has to accept the first offer for a date she gets. At least my little Hannah has a lot of friends, and she's only eight."

Something in Kelly's words rubbed me the wrong way. Yes, I felt bad for the girl. Not exactly sympathy, but rather I wondered how Winter maintained the strength she must possess to continue on every day dealing with all she did from the rest of the kids. She was very intelligent, attractive, and would make the right guy extremely lucky someday. To damn a girl who's barely eighteen and do it with a smile was just more than I could take. I decided to pass on lunch and just walk around the halls. The usual chatter of the cafeteria echoed off the walls and seemed to fill the entire building. I had just passed the bathrooms and an exit hall when I saw a hint of red out of the corner of my eye.

Winter stood in the empty hall, back to the wall, nibbling a burrito she held in one hand and gazing starry-eyed at a picture on the cell she clutched in the other. The double indulgence of eating junk food (her mother was an out and proud health nut) and fantasizing over the presumed image of her date was an arresting sight. Here in this empty space, she must have felt comfortable enough to let down her guard. To dream like girls her age dreamed. To eat the same foods as her peers, bask in the same vitality of youth, and finally know the addictive pull of desire she'd apparently missed thus far.

The still of that moment lingered in my mind the next morning when I came to work and began sorting lesson plans and preparing transparencies. Madison and Kaylee, a couple of popular airheads, arrived in class first, all a-giggle about Winter's apparently devastating evening.

"So what did he do?" Kaylee whispered, eyes sparkling as she chomped her gum.

Madison's smile was vicious. "He said that if she didn't want to hang and well ... you know ... give it up, she could get the fuck out of his room. She had to call her mother and tell her the truth about not being at dinner and a movie but at the guy's dorm, and her mother went off when she got there. They got in a shouting match in the dorm parking lot."

"Ooh shit! Why'd she have to be like that? I mean it's just a two minute thing and then it's over," Kaylee said as she tossed her perfectly combed bottled-blonde hair out of her face.

"My man gives it to me for longer than two minutes. Speak for yourself." Madison grinned, fiddling with her latest piece of jewelry from one of the jocks. "Shhhh! Here she comes!"

I was incensed at the pair's laughs at Winter's expense. I could only imagine how heart breaking it must have been for the girl, even if her naiveté had put her in an awkward and possibly dangerous situation. She was lucky not to have been drugged and raped for a laugh between the bastard and his friends.

Winter arrived with a small knot of students. She was back to her tight jeans, limp hair, and her eyes were very red, doubtlessly from a night of sobbing.

To emphasize their discomfort at her obvious distress, the kids in class gave her a wide berth, leaving an empty desk between Winter and themselves when they sat down.

"Good morning," I began, trying not to stare at the tiny girl who had pulled out her notebook and copy of A Tale of Two Cities as if on autopilot, flipping the book open to a random page and hiding behind it. "Who wants to sum up the class differences in this story, and how the Jacobin uprising compares to modern lower class upheaval?"

Class went on as usual, but an incident shortly before it ended set in motion the wheels of an unpredictable twist of fate that would bring Winter and me together, no matter how I tried to stay the proper course.

Winter had been doodling, apparently finished with the five essay question spread I'd handed out. Kaylee had been watching her intently. I don't know precisely who started it since I wasn't looking, but in an instant there was a shrill scream and collective gasp from the class followed by a crash and the slam of running feet toward the door.

From the eruption of instant chaos, I was able to discern that Kaylee had done something to infuriate Winter, and the pixie of a girl had launched herself at the curvy platinum blonde, landing a blow square at Kaylee's nose. The girl's hands were cupped over her bleeding nose, Winter's desk was overturned, and the classroom door was open.

"Kaylee! Go see the nurse!" I ordered. "Everyone else, park your butts and wait. I'll be right back."

A couple of teachers stumbled out of their rooms over the commotion, but I frantically waved them back. Yes, we had a zero tolerance policy and I'd probably have to enforce it, but something had set Winter off, which wasn't easy to do. I ran down past the cafeteria just in time to see her heading toward the exit.

"Melan!" I called.

She paused, backpack slung over one shoulder, her form hunched and quaking.

"Winter, come with me."

"Fuck you!" She screeched, her voice choked with pain.

"Please. I don't want to get anyone else involved here, but I will if you make me."

Whirling on her heel, Winter confronted me with such a pained expression my heart seized up. All I could do was motion her to a nearby conference room and shut the door to give us some peace.

"Why'd you hit Kaylee?" A glare was her only response. "Miss Melan, I'm going to report this to the principal, but if you give me more info, maybe I can help you." Her lower lip quivered. "Please. I know Kaylee is hard to handle sometimes."

With bravery beyond her years, Winter dropped her bag and stared me in the face. Her eyes leaked reluctant tears, and she looked tiny and lost as she studied my eyes.

"Kaylee wrote something on her phone I would kill her for if I could. She's a disgusting bitch, and if she says anything to me again, I'll kick her ass. Screw zero tolerance."

"What did—"

With a fortifying inhalation, Winter cut me off. "She said that I was nothing but a cold fish, and any guy who's stupid enough to want me will get second thoughts and kill themselves just like my dad did."

I took a step backward, my stomach twisting in knots at the horrifying statement delivered with such calm.

When I'd arrived to fill the available teaching post at Mont Blanc, Winter had been pretty much the same as she was now. I had never heard anything about her father's suicide. I had just figured her mother was one of those free spirits who didn't need a man around to help raise her daughter. The likelihood of a divorce or just an out of wedlock pregnancy had always been enough of a catch all reason for me, and it wasn't my business to know for certain.

"Why did she say that?"

"Because I told her this morning that she needed to keep her mouth shut. Her brother knows the guy I met last night, and he told her what happened. She said she'd tell anyone she wanted, and I said the only time a whore like her needed to open her mouth was when Max Wilks unzipped his pants."

I couldn't help the smile that captured my lips for a brief instant. And the most amazing thing happened. Winter smiled back.

As I'd expected, Winter got a week of in-school detention, and Kaylee was cracking wise about the girl's insanity and how the whole school was in danger of her snapping and taking them all out like "the creepy kids like her do in the news."

With barely a handful of weeks left in the school year, I studied the change in Winter's movements. She walked with a little more purpose. Her gaze was more intense, especially when she looked my way. And most of all, she had put the fear of corrective cosmetic surgery into Kaylee and her friends. They tried to keep as much distance between themselves and the girl as physically possible. She showed up in class and defiantly sat wherever she wanted, sometimes choosing to sit in the front row of desks and give me a brief conspiratorial smile when the popular girls arrived to find their usual seat had been taken.

It was the tender and ripe middle of spring when I began to realize Winter occupied more of my mind than was appropriate. Her favorite seat, as of late, was one in the far corner of the room near a window, sunlight slanting in to bathe her in radiance as she watched me from pensive eyes. The first big hint we'd grown closer than we should came that morning.

Second period students filed into the room. Winter took her seat, staring down Kaylee, Taylor, and Madison as they eyed her with contempt for taking the seats they'd wanted. Kaylee turned with an irritated toss of her silvery mane, muttering something under her breath and stamping further away

"I'm sorry Kaylee," Winter piped up, most of the right side of her face hidden by her hair. "Would you repeat that?"

Kaylee stopped dead in her tracks, turning to glare at the girl from the perch of her expensive heels. "Shouldn't you be home writing bad poetry, getting high, and slicing up your arms because the world doesn't understand you?"

A titter came from Taylor as Madison's eyes narrowed in a laughing smile.

"Nope," Winter replied, leaning back in her chair so her lovely tits pressed against the fabric emblazoned with one of her favorite bands. "I had to come to school today in case your mom's fancy insurance needs to blame an act of God to cover your fucked up nose. I can put more into the next blow if that'd help." Winter actually began to favor Kaylee with the prettiest and most innocent smile. The first one I'd seen in weeks, and there was an edge to it that jolted my loins.

"Mr. Brandão!" Kaylee turned toward my desk in shock. "That was a threat! She's so kicked out of this class!"

"Everyone sit down and open your books. Winter? Another comment like that one and you'll be sent to the office. Understood?" For the briefest instant, Winter held my gaze, the edges of her little rosebud mouth curling in a subtle smile.

"Yes, Mr. Brandão."

I tried to ignore the slight tingling in my balls at the sheer coquetry of that expression. The slight shift of her eyes and that smile, one that knew exactly what effect her words had on me, lingered in my mind like an afterimage on the retinas. It was very difficult to keep my thoughts from wandering for the rest of the period.

After work that day, I reclined on the sofa watching something drab on TV, my thoughts returning to Winter's eyes and that playful smile. Damn but she was beautiful. Yes, she made the best effort to pass off that whole Emo look, but under the unkempt hair, tight clothes, and prop glasses she wore from time to time, she was nubile and alluring. I felt like the very worst representation of a high school teacher for having such thoughts, but they would not leave.

I resolved to try and cool things between us in the interest of keeping my job as well as keeping inappropriate feelings from blossoming in both our hearts.

Apparently the power struggle between Winter and Kaylee spilled over into cyberspace. Increasingly catty texts were exchanged, the girls had a good laugh over some inflammatory comments they'd managed to leave on Winter's Deviant Art profile, and the tension further increased as their graduation neared.

Winter, deceptively quiet yet ever resourceful, managed to launch the coup de grace one day before the senior class finished this phase of their lives. Changing her war tactics from stealthy to all out deliciously evil, she managed to coerce Max Wilks, Kaylee's meathead boyfriend, to not only engage in some extremely raunchy chat, but the two had exchanged pictures. Winter sent him a topless, side profile shot that revealed almost her entire left breast, her hair still obscuring her face. Max sent her a far more intimate and explosive shot of his hand (the idiot forgot to take off his class ring which gave him away) masturbating a very erect cock.

The tension between the two girls was palpable. Winter moved with a feline intent that was not lost on the boys. As had become abundantly clear over the last few months, Winter was embracing her angst in new and creative ways, even if they were far from constructive.

The shit hit the fan as the students left for home on their second to last day of school. Winter ducked out of pre-calculus early to leave a little surprise stuffed in Kaylee's locker, then slipped out to her car to leave before the discovery was made.

All I knew was, according to the biology teacher who'd witnessed it all go down in the hall, Kaylee had screamed expletives about the hard copies of the exchange left in her locker which included the pictures and chat text, then she ran out to the parking lot to take Winter out, but arrived too late. Taylor suggested they swing by Winter's house, and apparently they had with no success, or that was the story being told via whispers the next day. Winter had run into the forest and her mother had no idea where she could have gone since the wood was very large, and Winter knew it better than anyone else.

On the next morning and last official day of school for the graduating class, the sun hid behind heavy gray clouds and it was unusually chilly for spring. I returned the results of their final English examination to each student, nearing the end of the list when Winter swept into class. I dropped the last few sheets I'd been holding.




Apple



Compared to her outfit that day, Valentine's Day had only been a taste of her beauty. To celebrate her last day of high school, she arrived in a white tank and matching skirt that was barely long enough to meet dress code standards. Her hair was pulled back into a barrette, and she wore white pumps. All heads turned as she demurely took her seat. If a look could kill, Kaylee would have offed the blonde, then resurrected her a few times to do it again.

"Good morning Miss Melan," I greeted, picking up the exam results and putting hers on her desk. "Glad you could join us."

"I wouldn't miss today, Mr. Brandão. I'm leaving this hell hole in the fall for college, and I wanted a reminder why I'm going to school five states away," she said with a bright smile. "Sorry I'm late."

"You don't know sorry," Kaylee grumbled, and Taylor giggled.

"I do, Kaylee," Winter corrected, turning in her seat to meet the girl's stare once again. "I'm sorry you're with such a perverted loser that will proposition anything that moves."

"Your ass is mine, Melan," Kaylee's tone was glacial. "I'd watch your back if I were you."

I tried to interject and stop the conversation before it got too out of control, but Winter dismissively waved her hand, then continued the loaded exchange.

"Good idea. Max has watching my front pretty well covered."

"Miss Melan! Miss Walters! That's enough. Any more out of either of you and you're both going to get marked down. Now let's get back on track today."

Somehow they made it through the remainder of their last English class together without another word to one another. But I decided that I'd make it a point to finish up early enough to be out in the lot just in case Kaylee was still nursing her grudge at the end of the day. Winter actually contributed in class that day, reading a favorite Alan Ginsberg poem as she swung one foot to and fro under her desk. Her legs were magnificent. All that running through forest and field definitely showed in the perfectly sculpted shape and tone of those beautiful limbs. Apparently, I'd been staring for longer than I should, because I returned my attention to the rest of the room to find several puzzled faces. As if things weren't tense enough, I noted with an uncomfortably churning stomach a few anxiously whispered conversations with hasty glances cast my way.

The seniors' last burst from school was jubilant. Most of them ran out of the building, shouting and giving each other high fives. A few others were too grown up and dignified to choose that exit—they merely smiled and stepped across the threshold into the world without a backward glance. Winter was among the latter, and I followed close behind knowing it was now or never for Kaylee's group to act.

I was correct.

Winter knew it was coming, too—I could read it in the defiant set of her shoulders and her careful stride. With a sigh, she scanned the lot to see the girls congregated near her car.

"Fuck," Winter muttered, unaware of my presence as I kept pace a few steps behind her. The girls all looked up from their iPhones to watch Winter's steady advance. It was like watching a gazelle walk directly into a den of starving lionesses.

"There you are, slut," Kaylee greeted, pushing herself off the hood of Winter's car. "Did you have fun fingering yourself to pictures of my boyfriend?" Winter stopped, feet apart, shoulders back as I slid in between a couple other cars to look like I was leaving.

"Lilliputian cock doesn't do much for me, Kaylee. I don't know how you can feel him at all when he's inside you. It must be like throwing a little cocktail sausage down a hallway, given all the mileage your cunt must have by now."

In a flash, they were on her, and she went down. She landed square on her ass without a sound, though the pain must have been excruciating. Taylor, Julie Mills, and a couple other girls grabbed Winter's arms to hold her still as Kaylee produced a pair of sewing scissors from her purse.

"Since you like showing off your tits so much, whore, you can show them off to everyone when you're leaving school..."

I was running toward the group and shouting for Kaylee to back off, but I didn't make it in time. Kaylee grabbed the hem of Winter's shirt and hurriedly thrust the shears upward, cutting the delicate fabric in half, then grabbing a handful of the girl's white bra and snipping between the cups as her friends laughed.

By this time, a few other teachers and faculty noticed the commotion and were on the approach as Kaylee and her crew ran for their car. I hurried over to Winter, who was desperately trying to hold her shirt closed, her lower lip quivering but her eyes still dry.

"Winter. Here..." I slid off the light spring jacket I wore and tossed it to the girl, who struggled into it. I moved around to her front, holding out my hands to help her to her feet.

"Just go home. I'll follow behind to make sure the girls don't give you any trouble, okay?" The school secretary and gym teacher were running toward Kaylee's car and the nurse was gingerly approaching us.

"Winter! You're bleeding! Come on. Let's go inside so I can—"

"Fuck off!" Winter shrieked, running around her car. Blood trickled down the back of her left thigh. "I'm fine!" She flung open her car door, dumped the contents of her back pack on the passengers seat, then threw the empty bag down on the driver's seat to soak up the blood as she slammed the door behind her. Her shuddering sobs were now audible as she cranked up some Lostprophets and squealed out of the parking lot.

Winter lead-footed her way down the major streets of town, keeping just below the speed limit before tearing loose on the less busy back roads that led to her mother's farm. By the time she hit the dirt and gravel roads, she was roaring so far ahead of me I was convinced she'd get a ticket for speeding. But as we crested a hill, I saw a large old house backed up against the woods that stretched over that area of town and watched Winter fishtail into the drive, spewing dust and gravel in her wake as she went.

Parking on the road, I killed the engine, grabbed my keys, and got out of the car to sprint up the drive after her.

"Please! Just leave me alone!" she screamed. She ran toward the back of the house, her skirt hem and left thigh smeared with blood.

"Winter! Stop!" I called, running after her as she bounded up a couple steps onto a large wooden deck.

She reached for the sliding glass door, key poised at the ready, but her hands were shaking so violently she couldn't unlock the door. I approached her with caution, knowing this was the stupidest thing I could do, but unable to help the man in me who felt the primal need to comfort a wounded woman.

Sobbing freely, Winter finally jabbed the key into the lock and yanked open the door.

"Please ... I don't need any help. I'll drop your jacket by the school tomorrow." she wept. She slipped into a darkened living room with her sobs increasing in intensity.

Without a second thought, I stepped in behind her. The subtle smell of cinnamon and an indistinct blend of fresh fruits hit my nose as my eyes adjusted. Winter was limping into an open and airy kitchen with her head lowered as she tossed her keys on the counter.

I didn't know what to say. She stopped near the kitchen island to yank some paper towels from a roll and gingerly apply them to her thigh. She winced with pain as she applied more pressure to the wounds.

I crossed the living room and took the towels from her hand. "Here. Let me," I said.

She didn't say a word as I ran them under the tap for an instant. I knelt to appraise her injuries.

One thing I had not counted on seeing was the little lace thong she wore under her skirt, and I bit my lip to silence any inappropriate reaction. A scrape marred the creamy gentle slope of her left buttock and traveled downward a few inches. She'd also sustained a couple of small cuts just above her knee. I tried to clean them as tenderly as possible, aware that she gained more control of her emotions. I caressed her abraded flesh with the cool towels and admired the thin strip of lace as it split her firm cheeks.

"Thank you for the jacket," she managed in a choked voice. "That crazy bitch. I hope Max knocks her up, or bangs Madison and Julie and she finds out."

"Do you have any peroxide?"

"In the bathroom down the hall," she said. One hand clutched the sink as the other tried to hold her shirt together. Her face was lowered and unreadable.

The gray sky outside lit the bathroom enough for me to see how badly my hands were shaking as I gathered up supplies. I'd touched Winter Melan's thigh. She was my student, and I'd seen her thong panties, dear God!

When I returned to the kitchen, it was empty. I glanced across the countertop and into the living room to see Winter lying on her belly on a pretty floral print sofa. She was watching me approach with an odd expression in her eyes.

My cheeks burned, but I knelt beside her to clean and bandage her scrapes. I was glad to see her tears had dried.

"Thanks, Mr. Brandão."

"You're no longer my student. Call me Christopher."

She responded with a weak smile. "Thanks, Christopher."

I applied bandages and threw the wrappings in the kitchen trash. While my back was turned, Winter sat up, arms folded over her naked bosom. But not so tightly folded that I couldn't see a great deal of her small breasts.

For a moment, we merely stared at one another. Her eyes were red. She sniffed a couple of times before slowly getting to her feet. Without a word, she walked past me and ascended the staircase off the living room. I didn't know what she wanted. Was I supposed to remain there and wait for her to return? Her gait had been deliberate and sure, and though I tried to pretend I didn't know what this meant, the ever vigilant urges in me had no doubt.

Silence spun out into torturously long minutes, and at last I fell victim to my desires and began to climb the stairs after her. I focused on the soft beige carpeting and tried to ignore the racing of my heart as I stepped onto the landing.

Alternative rock issued at a low volume from the first door on the right, and I knew without a doubt it would be her bedroom. I wanted to turn and run, but I was helpless to do either.

Winter's high heels lay on the floor just outside her door. When I entered the large room with a sloping ceiling, she stood with her back to me, gazing out through a pair of large windows that faced the wood. She'd changed into a T-shirt and jeans shorts.

Doubtless she heard my advance across her bedroom floor. The carpet was a pretty mauve, and the battle between angst-filled teen and little girl was evident from the décor. Posters of rock bands filled the walls while worn stuffed animals jostled for space on a two-shelf bookcase. The room had a vague sweet smell of perfume and was meticulously clean, down to the perfectly made bed.

She didn't say a word. I approached at a cautious pace, finally pausing to look over her shoulder at the inspiring view. She was slowly chewing something. Her arms were folded against the sill—when she let them drop, it was blatantly clear she wasn't wearing a bra under her shirt.

"Thank you for being so nice to me," she said softly, her tone earnest and genuine as I caught a hint of the grape bubble gum she was chewing. "You're really a great teacher, and I'll miss you."

Taken aback at this revelation, I was struck dumb for an instant. "Well, you're an intelligent girl, Winter, and I'll miss having you in class."

She smiled, and the warmth of it lit her eyes.

A tentative bird song came through the open windows as the creatures marked the cloudy sky. Newly unfurling leaves rustled in a soft breeze. Winter moved closer to me, and as if in slow motion. She extended her arms to offer an embrace. I accepted.

Our bodies came together, and the yielding press of her unbound breasts against my chest made me shiver. She buried her face in my shoulder and inhaled deeply as I awkwardly slipped my arms around her waist. She was stoic and still within the tight circle of my arms. I enjoyed the subtle scent of shampoo and sweat in her hair as I gazed at its golden splendor.

We inched toward her bed at a snail's pace. So slow was our progress, in fact, that I'd taken her subtle movements as gentle something to bring herself comfort. Not until my hip bumped the edge of a mattress did I stop and put a little distance between us, although I sank onto the bed's edge with less grace than I could have hoped.

Words tried to come. Alarm bells were jangling in my brain as Winter studied me from that impassive expression she wore so often. But eclipsing this was a hungry and tender need. The ice in her eyes was melting to leave behind bewitching blue pools. She lifted her arms in silent entreaty. In response, I spread my arms to welcome her onto my lap as the first fat drops of rain plunked against the window screen.

In my arms, she was light as angel feathers and hot as Jezebel's kiss. Her aura of frustrated sadness diminished. She was all bubble gum and breasts, candied lips and cool smooth thighs. I knew speaking would break the magic spell she'd cast on me with her haunting eyes, and I decided for just this instant, she was a young woman and I was a man who couldn't resist her budding wiles.

Her lips parted, beckoning mine nearer. With a tremulous sigh of resignation, I let my lips brush her porcelain cheek. She shivered. Her eyelids closed to show long, feathery lashes nearly as golden as her hair. Her skin was soft as silk, and her lips so enticing, like smooth, sweet velvet. I closed my eyes and surrendered.

Winter may have carried herself like an aloof Siamese cat, but she kissed with all the fire and passion of a jungle tigress. Her hands slid up over my sides to grab my shoulders as her lips parted. Her tongue beckoned mine into the fruit-flavored depths of her mouth. I longed to give her what she wanted, but was suddenly jolted into the realization of what I was doing. Being caught alone in a student's—well former student's—bedroom would be a sure ticket to the unemployment line.

"What?" Winter cooed as her lips trailed down my throat. "Don't you like grape?"

I couldn't help but crack a smile. "I love grape, sweetie. But I also love my job."

She nodded and slid off my lap to cross the large bedroom. She closed and locked her bedroom door.

"Mom won't be home until ten. She had to work a twelve-hour shift, and it's a long commute. So...?" Winter lifted her brows in an adorably mischievous expression. "I graduate next week and today was my last day of school. I'm officially no longer your student."

Without a second thought, she returned to sit upon my right knee, her arms locking around my neck as her eyes searched mine. Apparently satisfied with what she did or did not see, she brought her lips to within inches of mine. "Kiss me." I hesitated, and she put on an irresistible pout. "Please?"

I am only a man. I've faced the temptation of a friend's bored and lonely wife, and had walked away with our friendship and fidelity still intact. I'd put up with Kaylee and the other bimbettes openly flirting and trying to drown me in sex appeal to heighten their odds for better grades. Winter had nothing to gain as far as I could see, and the fact of the matter was that she was no longer my student, and she was of consenting age.

My mouth moved toward hers once again, and she shivered atop my lap, lifting her chin as she surrendered herself fully to our kisses. They were, at the same time, wet and savage, sugary and delicious.

Winter's thighs tightly clamped my hips, and she rubbed her breasts back and forth against my chest, the movement fractional and subtle. With a shift, she pulled one thigh off my hip so that she straddled just one of my knees. Her crotch was inches from mine.

Branches undulated in the wet rain outside as Winter undulated atop my thigh with her tits still pressed to my chest. The pressure of my thigh against her cleft was apparently very intense. She shuddered and moaned in my arms as she broke our kiss. Through half-closed lids, she gazed at me with silent need. She worked her hip ever closer so my groin, and shuddering breaths escaped her lips. Winter Melan was going to reach orgasm on my lap. It hit me like a blast of cold water. I reached a hand down to catch her hip and make her stop. She caught my wrist and pressed my curled fingers against her crotch.

"Oh God, Winter, we have to—" She released a tiny gasp as my thumb pressed against the crotch of her jean shorts. "We have to stop this."

The wet press of her lips against mine was as potent a kiss as I'd ever known. My nostrils were filled with the scent of powder and vanilla from her deodorant and perfume. She wrapped her arms around my neck. Her hips swayed against my thigh. I moaned and she sighed, her exhalation hot against my cheek. I tasted the raspberry of her lip gloss and the sweet grape flavor of her mouth as she squeezed my shoulders tight. The adrenalin flood my body produced was torrential. I was acutely aware of my pulse thudding in my ears, her throaty moans, the feel of her waist in my hands, and the pure sweet wetness of her mouth as it explored mine.

"Please, Christopher." She tugged on my shoulders as she slid limply from my knee to kneel on the floor. "This never happened, right? I just want you so much. If I could pick anyone to be my first, I'd want it to be you."

First? She's a virgin? I was shocked. Not necessarily because I didn't think Winter was capable of finding a decent kid her own age who would treat her well. But because of the strong, world-weary persona she wore. I'd tried to swear to all I held sacred that I'd never bed a virgin. I didn't want that kind of responsibility.

Yet here one knelt at my feet. Part of me wanted to pull her to her feet and rush out the door. She was my student for God's sake. The other part couldn't help basking like an emperor with a nubile slave girl laid at his foot. Before I had made up my mind, Winter leaned forward to press her lips against the bulge in my khakis. My resolve trembled.

"It's okay," she soothed, stroking my left thigh with one small hand as she chewed her gum. "Mom put me on the pill last year. And I was in gymnastics for five years."

Who would have thought the most frightening and exhilarating sight I'd witnessed in all twenty-nine years of my life would be the blonde-haired top of a beautiful girl's head as it hovered over my crotch. Too afraid to make the first move, I jumped as Winter's dexterous fingers moved over the zip and button. I couldn't stop staring at the contrast of her electric blue nail polish against the tame and muted color of my slacks.

With the first barrier breeched, she continued on her mission. Her cool fingertips poked into my underwear to brush against the thick velvety shaft of my cock. With a brief flash of her bright blue eyes and a look that positively screamed ravenous, she tugged my penis free from its confines.

The room had felt so warm up until now. Cool air swirled around my bobbing dick only to be driven off by a warm breath from Winter. I closed my eyes, my head reeling.

"Please, Winter. We've got to stop—"

A soft moan was her only response as she reverently slid her fingertips up and down the length of my shaft. And then traced her thumb around the tip. I winced as she captured a fat drop of pre-come with her index finger. She smeared up and down the vein on the underside as I struggled to stay calm. And then the first tentative brush of her lips made me groan.

Without any tease, she tightened her lips around the head and her mouth slid halfway down the length of my thick cock. She moaned and the hot wet sheath of her mouth sucked so hard I thought I'd explode. She kept up this tight suction as she worked her mouth up and down at a steady rhythm. Her level of skill was impressive and alarming.




Apple



I fell back across the bed. She pinned down my hips with her palms and tightened her lips around me with nervous exhalations. Little throaty moans escaped from her mouth as she picked up the pace. A tightening in my balls let me know I was close, and I reached for her to gently pull her mouth away, her cheeks sucked in with her effort.

"Stop, honey. Stop."

I opened my eyes and was treated to the frantic striptease of the most luscious girl I'd seen in ages. Her breasts were small but very perky, her waist was slender, and her mons was perfectly smooth and free of hair. She had a navel ring. I wanted to cover her peaches and cream skin with kisses as she slipped off her socks and motioned for me to stand.

Rain fell harder against the window as the room grew dimmer from the darkening clouds. Winter tugged back the pink and gray blankets and top sheet to slip into bed. Her large eyes watched me to see what I'd do next, pausing hungrily to take in my glistening cock. Without a word, I followed suit and undressed. My stomach churned, but it was not able to compete with my demanding cock.

The sheets were cool and sweetly scented as I crawled into bed beside the small young woman. It felt even more taboo to be together in her bed, surrounded by all the memories that spanned her budding life, knowing we'd create more today that I hoped she'd treasure forever. I kissed her brow.

She fell back upon the pillows, her eyes closed and hands at her sides. She was terribly nervous—that was obvious from her posture and expression. I moved over her to gently part her lips with mine and let my tongue slip inside her mouth. With great care, I started to stroke the little peaks of her breasts. Her nipples shriveled and grew erect against my questing fingers. She writhed beside me as I gently pinched each pale pink nub in turn. My cock throbbed as I let one hand slide down over the concave plain of her belly.

With a gasp, Winter parted her thighs. I brushed her inner thigh, starting just below her swollen folds. I wanted to tell her how beautiful her body was and how honored I felt to have her for the first time. But I couldn't find the right words.

I broke the kiss to let my lips trail down her neck to her throat, where I sucked and nibbled. Winter winced as I gently bit the milky flesh. I eased my fingers up her thigh to finally glide over her smooth silken pussy. She gasped. My cock twitched as my fingertips came into contact with her hot slippery folds. I let my index finger trace up and down her dewy slit for an instant before allowing it to gently part the soft flesh and rub the tender kernel nestled at the top of her pussy. She arched against me, her eyes fluttering closed.

I leaned closer to my little mystery. I flicked my tongue across her left nipple while lightly working her clit back and forth. I dipped my finger in her copious juices, and she began to moan aloud. Her hands went to my hair, her long nails combed through it and caressed my scalp. Her breathing grew more frantic, and her moans grew louder and higher pitched.

A telltale blush that preceded orgasm dusted her face, and her golden eyebrows and lashes stood out against her ruddy complexion as I stopped my caresses.

"Are you sure?" I murmured. I kissed her cheek, and she reached over to stroke mine. "I want you to be absolutely sure, Winter."

She gave me a look just as serious as the one I undoubtedly wore. "Yes," she whispered.

Her sweet breath was unsteady as I moved on top of her. I parted her thighs, kneeled up between them, and watched her face as I returned to stroking her pearl of pleasure.

The gentle rain outside seemed to lull her into relaxing somewhat, so that when I brought the tip of my dripping cock to bear against her wet little blossom, she gasped but didn't tense up. I kept my eyes on her face as I pushed a fraction of an inch inside her, only getting most of my painfully sensitive head into her tight little entry.

"Talk to me, sweetie," I breathed. I returned a careful fingertip to her clit and traced delicate circles. She began to moan and wiggle under me. "Tell me when you're going to come, okay?"

"Okay," Winter murmured. She folded her arms behind her head to give me a perfect view of her tits. Her hair fell over her pretty features for a second before I brushed it back.

I was careful to keep my strokes shallow as I worked her swollen clit. I paused to push the blanket and sheet away from her feet, and I encouraged her to rest her ankles on my shoulders. She gasped, her breath coming in uneven hitches.

"Mmmm ... now," Winter panted. Her toes curled against my shoulders. My cock was hard as steel, and when I felt her tight muscles throb around me, I pushed myself deep inside her with a great shove. I collapsed on top of her to take her in my arms, and she cried out. She clutched my upper arms as her eyes squeezed shut.

"You're doing fine, sugar," I said, panting, unable to believe how fucking tight her soaked pussy was. And then I felt the barrier of her innocence give way. I pushed deeper inside her, then slowly withdrew almost all the way to do it again. I held her tight and worked myself in deeper still before sliding out a little to push in far as I could again. Winter moaned, and her body began to tremble. Had she come? Did the pain of my thrust interrupt her orgasm? I wasn't sure, but I'd make certain she knew how good making love could feel. There would be plenty of fucking for her in her future, but this act between she and I was more than that. I cared about her beyond the simple student-teacher relationship. Even beyond a mutual friendship.

"You feel so good, Winter," I said.

She cried out and began to squirm away from my fingertips. Her body shuddered once again, and I knew for certain she'd climaxed. Her muscles throbbed and squeezed me hard enough I could barely move inside her. "So tight and so good."

She wrapped around me and drew me in deeper. I felt the slippery nectar of her orgasm bathing my cock, making it a little easier to ease inside her. My lips sought the beating pulse of her throat, and I pressed fervent kisses up and down her neck before moving up to nibble her ear lobe. Teaching her the classics had been a labor of love, but teaching her how to enjoy the attention of a man was exhilarating.

A rumble of thunder rolled over the forest, and I pumped harder inside Winter's taut womanhood. Her fingertips fluttered down my back. She arched her hips, and the slight pressure of her warm navel-piercing against my belly added a new sensation to our coupling. Her movement grew more fluid, her arms wrapped tight around my muscular shoulders, and my cock drove throaty moans from her parted lips. They were the sexiest sounds I'd ever heard, filled with eager delight.

"That's my girl," I breathed into the shell of her ear. Her narrow hips slammed against my groin as her grip tightened. "Is it good, bonita?" I purred, unable to resist the compliment in my mother tongue. I thought of my own first time with an older girlfriend of my sister's who had flown up from Rio to stay with us for a couple weeks. Under summer's savagely hot night skies, I had lost my virginity to the curvy goddess of a woman in the backyard hammock between two maple trees while the rest of the household slept. It was an almost magical awakening to the pleasures of two bodies coming together as one. I wanted Winter to have the same euphoric recollections I still had when I thought back on my first time.

Winter had that sultry, half-lidded expression that confessed the delirium of pleasure into which she'd fallen. I tried to study her face as our bodies pushed against each other in frantic bliss.

"I'm going to come, Winter. Should I pull out?" The frantic press of her mouth to mine was all the answer I needed as I erupted deep inside her. The endless throbbing and spurting of my cock was so intense I couldn't breathe.

At last I slowed and gently broke our kiss. Thunder rattled the windows, and rain pattered down on the leaves outside. I gently withdrew from her. I was unable to resist a glance between her spread thighs as I settled in beside her to caress her stomach. Sure enough, the telltale crimson on the sheet was there, and I felt awestruck that I had been the first to take her cherry. I hoped I hadn't hurt her what with all the friction we'd undoubtedly caused on her injured bottom.

We lay there listening to the storm for a while, my head resting by hers as we shared a pillow. My cock was already hardening as I thought of what I'd just experienced.

"Thank you," she said out of the blue, and I drifted back to the here and now.

"For what, sweetie?"

"For this," she replied. Her hand swept over her nude body and splayed thighs. "I was afraid my first time would suck like all the girls say it does. But it was beautiful." She sat up, and I joined her to sit on the edge of the bed. She slipped her arms around my shoulders and rested her cheek on my upper arm.

"It was an honor," I replied, never more sure of something in my life. "There's something I want to say, but you'll just roll your eyes, so I'll say it in my family's language and you'll just have to ponder the meaning for the rest of your days," I said, smiling.

It was a true, bright, genuine smile that lit up her entire face. "What?"

"Você é Linda. Sinto-me abençoada por te ter na minha vida."

Her smile brightened. "That's so pretty. What does it mean?"

I smiled back, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "I told you. It's my gift to you. Something for you to wonder for the rest of your days. Or until you find another Portuguese lover."

We showered together, and our conversation turned to books and her hopes for the future. Distracted by how beautiful she was with water droplets streaming over her skin, I captured her in a steamy kiss and brought her off again with my fingers, then took her once more as she held onto the toiletry rack in the shower. Her body was so light and spare in my arms that I ended up supporting most of her weight while I thrust again and again into her hot cunny until I pulled out and squirted all over her compact bottom. Again, I felt bad for the rough handling of her bruised and scraped little ass.

We sat together on her back porch for a long while holding hands, eating an apple, and just watching the rain. I could totally understand how Winter felt safe in those woods. The old forest exuded an enigmatic aura very difficult to ignore. When I wasn't dreaming of how lovely it would be to take a morning stroll through the trees, I was lost in Winter's classically beautiful profile. Lost in how pretty she looked with natural light bathing her features and how entrancing she was when doing something as mundane as eating an apple.

I squeezed her hand. "You have to at least write me when you go off to college. Tell me what books they're requiring you to read these days, and how life's treating you," I said. "I think you'll love college, Winter. All the popularity bullshit in high school doesn't mean a thing. You'll be so busy reading, hanging out in coffee shops and checking out all the local culture, I bet you won't even think of this place."

Winter kicked her bare feet up to rest on the wooden rail that bordered the porch. "Maybe." Taking one final bite from her apple, she pitched the core across her backyard. "But I'll think of you when it rains."

Summer came and went and I never saw Winter again. There was a new crop of freshmen who didn't appreciate all the reading, a new generation of popular girls to deal with, and a couple of loner kids who struggled to find their place. I learned to look for the hidden young man or woman in those kids, giving them the heavier questions because I knew they could handle them, or giving them a break because they needed it.

But every time I walked through the spring rain alone, I wondered how Winter was doing. I heard a rumor going around that she'd met an art major from Portland and that they were pretty serious.

Two springs after the one I affectionately thought of as ours, I arrived home to see a package on my front step. It had been delivered overnight express and felt quite light. My mother was in the habit of sending me homemade goodies on a whim, but when I read the postal label, my curiosity was piqued.

I went into the kitchen and carefully maneuvered a letter opener through the brown packing tape. The scent of fresh apples wafted out, and I found one perfect bright red apple nestled amid the styrofoam packing peanuts and a folded piece of stationary with a pretty border of apples and leaves. In a careful and elegant script, Winter had written:

Do you know how much it rains in Portland? A lot. Do you know that when it rains, I can't stop smiling? Thank you, Christopher. I hope you like the apple. It's a Honey Crisp. I sent only the best apple for the absolute best teacher in the entire world.

Love always,

Mrs. Winter T. Melan-de Silva

P. S. I feel blessed to have had you in my life too, handsome. Even if I never see you again, you'll always be here when I hear the rumble of thunder and feel the rain on my face.

The note went up on my refrigerator and is still there now.

I still see Winter's mother at the market and learned that Winter had started a photography studio, and is doing quite well selling freelance nature shots to magazines. Since the job brought her a lot of income, she'd dropped out of college. Her wedding had been a simple affair on the beach. I was sure she had made a breathtaking bride.

But to me, she would always be the awkward girl who struggled to find her place, taking temporary solace in my arms on one endless spring afternoon.

Fini.



Apple Bottom Jeans



"How the hell did I get so fucking lucky?" Jim lay naked on his bed as he watched his wife walk past him and into the bathroom.

"What drawer is it in?" Cecelia called out from the bathroom. She was looking for the lube and had no idea where it could be.

"Second drawer."

"Found it."

Cecelia walked out and couldn't help but smile. Her husband was grinning like a horny teenager. His cock was hard and he was lying back on the bed stroking it slowly.

"What?" Jim looked up a bit, wondering what was so funny.

"You'd think you had just won the lottery or something. All I said was that you can fuck my ass."

Jim didn't reply, but he grabbed his wife around her waist and sat her on his chest. She spread her legs and slowly grinded her pussy against his chest.

"I did win the lottery when I met you. You are amazing, sexy, and sweet. You pushed out four huge babies and still agreed to have sex with me afterwards. You have the cutest butt in the world and I get to fuck it."

"Oh really? It was those jeans I wore the first time we met wasn't it?" Cecelia loved thinking back to when they first met and started dating. She whimpered as Jim ran his hands up her thighs and cupped her ass cheeks.

"Fuck yeah. They were so fucking cute. They made this ass look so round I wanted to grab it."

"You did grab it. You groped me so much that first night. You were seriously drunk. You're lucky I didn't slap you." Cecelia whimpered again. Jim had placed a squirt of lube onto his three fingers and was working them slowly into her ass.

"Oh come on. I was young and horny. It didn't help that your purple thong was showing."

"You remember. I'm impressed." Cecelia loved teasing her husband. He forgot most every day things, but had a memory for the important things.

"God your ass is amazing. You always wore tight jeans on our dates. It drove me wild." Jim had grabbed the lube and squirted a vast amount on his cock. He rubbed it in and pushed her down a bit, rubbing the tip against her ass.

"I wore jeans so you wouldn't fuck me in public. You seriously had a hormone issue." Cecelia once again whimpered and leaned forward to nuzzle his nose. Her ass was slowly being stretched and the calmness of their conversation along with the intensity of what was about to happen was overwhelming.

"Why are you letting me fuck your ass baby? Why now?" Jim was rotating her hips in circles, guiding his cock inside. She had had his fingers inside her ass on many occasions and just recently, they had been playing with a silver dildo.

"I've been a bitch lately. Demanding, rude, patronizing. I love you so much and wanted to try something new."

"Mmm. God, I love you." 

Jim pushed his cock deep into her ass and sat up. He rocked back and forth slowly, running his hands through her hair. Her hands rested on his chest, playing with his chest hair. His body was no longer that of a muscular football player, but she still loved it. She pinched his nipples and continued the rocking motion.

"You have no idea how fucking good this feels. You are so tight."

"I think we should go on dates more often. The kids are older now. We can leave them alone. I'd love to go to a movie with you."

"Wearing those apple bottom jeans?"

"Yep."

Jim groaned. Cecelia was slapping her clit lightly. The sound echoed in their room. He had fallen in love with this woman. This adventurous sexy woman had taken his heart. This woman had given him her virginity. This woman was now letting him fuck her ass like a slut.

"Taste yourself. You used to do that all the time. I want to watch." Jim was trying to stop her from wiggling so fast. He was very close to cumming and wanted to hold back. He watched as his wife slid four fingers into her pussy and then slowly licked each one, sucking on it hard, pretending it was his cock. She loved his look of pure lust. She used to do this before sex all the time. All she had to do was suck her fingers and Jim would be hard and willing to fuck.

"Oh fuck. Can I cum in your ass baby?"

Cecelia nodded. She continued playing with her clit as Jim bounced her hard and fast on his cock. He grunted and moaned, using her ass to get himself off. He bounced hard one last time and screamed out. It was a completely different feeling to cum in her ass. Her walls were just as hot, but so tight. He could feel every drop of cum inside her. Cecelia waited until he was finished cumming and then pulled his hand against her clit. He knew exactly what she wanted and began circling her clit. Years of fucking had taught him exactly what she needed to cum. Cecelia came in a loud scream of pleasure.

"Thank you baby. I love you." Jim lay back and pulled his wife on top of him. She nuzzled his nose and grinned.

"I love you too."



Apple of My Eye



NB: Hi everyone! This is my Valentine's Day Contest entry for this year. I'm very excited about this submission because it's my first time and I absolutely loved writing this story out.

Many thanks to my ever efficient editor wildheartedangel for her efforts and contributions.

If you enjoyed reading, don't forget to vote!

-Artform-

***

August 2010

Her feet were moving but she was lifeless. Every step marked a foot closer to her end. She tried not to think about what she was about to do. Thinking about it would make her doubt herself won't it? Besides, it might even be painless...

With a sigh, she dumped her bag on the grass and took a breath of the sea. The slight tang of salt invaded her nose and the chill prickled her skin but she refused to give in to her shudder for warmth.

"This is it," she whispered to herself as she shuffled her feet closer to the edge of the cliff. She dared herself to take a peek down below and sucked in a deep breath when she saw the great waves crashing against sharp rocks.

"I'm going to do it! You hear me, you son of a bitch?!" she shouted into the open space although she knew she was alone. Still, it roused her with something like Dutch courage, to jump.

She stood there, shivering just a little and counted slowly to ten; promising herself that she would jump on the last count.

One. She took a deep breath and prolonged it...

Two. She closed her eyes and pictured herself about to fall on soft pillows...

Three. What the hell was she thinking?

Four. What the hell was he thinking? The guy was married for godsake!

Five. Oh god, oh god...

Six. Breathe in... and out...

Seven... What's that?

Her eyes flared open suddenly at the sound of a low growl behind her. Someone... no, something was behind her.

"Great! Trust me to screw up my own death!" she murmured. Obviously when she picked a secluded spot, she hadn't considered there'd be wild animals around. But would death by being ravaged by a wild beast be a possible option? "Fuck that," she hissed and turned slowly around to come face to face with a giant, teeth-baring gray wolf.

She froze for a moment, feeling all the blood drain from her face. She tried to back away, slowly; step by step and...

"Aaa!!! Oh my god! Oh my god! Help me! Help me!" she shrieked, holding on to the edge of the cliff. "I don't want to die... oh god, I don't want to die!" She could feel her grip slipping; she could not hold on any longer...

The last thing she saw was a bronzed hand reaching out for her before all became dark and quiet...

***

When she opened her eyes, she was staring at a white ceiling. A surge of panic went through her body as she sat upright to inspect her surroundings.

Is this heaven? She thought to herself. Surely not... Heaven surely did not smell like salty breeze.

"Oh fuck!" Now she remembered. "Shit, I have to get out of here!"

She pulled the blankets away from her and found herself naked.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" she snapped as she got up to search for her clothes. She was so bent on looking for them that she didn't notice the door open.

"Can I help you with whatever it is you're looking for?" She felt herself stiffen at the sound of the gentle deep voice of a man. Her hand quickly snatched the blanket to cover herself before she turned to look at the man.

"Stay back and don't look at me you pervert! Where am I? What have you done to me?" she demanded, backing away towards the wall.

"Oh please... I'm not going to look at you. If you're looking for your clothes, they got ripped and soiled as I was pulling you up from that cliff. Now, why don't you sit down and have a spot of tea while I fetch you a robe?" The man smiled as he placed a tray carefully on the table near the door.

She narrowed her eyes at him. He was a suspicious character. Who wears sunglasses in their own home? Still, she was wary and did not move from her spot until he returned into the room.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Ah mademoiselle, the question is who are you?" he replied with a smile as his hands touched the wall. She was about to retort when she saw that he was trying to find something with his hands.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find the chair. It used to be here beside this table."

"Its right there!" she snapped with irritation and pointed to the chair on the opposite side of the table. "What are you blind?"

"Touché," he replied with a laugh. "My name is Wade. And you are?"

She didn't reply him but inched closer to him and waved her hand in front of his shaded eyes.

"I can still feel the wind vibrations from your hands and the heat from your body, you know," he replied, causing her to jump a step back.

"Oh my god... you're really blind. I'm sorry. I was just... ah fuck that. My name's Amara," she said stiffly.

"Miss Amara, I assure you that I am not a pervert and to honour my word, you may take this robe to make yourself decent," he said, passing her a white robe before he got up and turned away from her.

Even though she knew he was blind, she couldn't help giving him side glances now and then as she slipped into the robe. To her surprise, the robe was soft and she saw on the label that it was made of cashmere. How the hell could a common man afford such expensive materials? Amara looked around her. The house was cozy and lived in and the room had decent amenities but it was definitely not a rich man's house. Narrowing her suspicious eyes, she straightened up and gave a cough.

"I'm done."

"Well then, I will see if I can get you something to wear then you can be on your way. Your bag and your soiled clothes should be by the bed. I'm sure you'd rather be anywhere else but here."

"I have some clothes in my bag... Please don't bother too much. I'll be out of your house in awhile. I just need to calm myself down," she said with a sigh. "I... Thank you for saving me. I... I really don't wish to intrude on you like this... but thank you."

"It is nothing really..."

Amara kept her eyes downcast for a moment before raising them to look at his face. He was handsome and did not look older than 35 years old. It was a pity that a man in his prime would be blind... and yet, still standing tall.

"Mr. Wade? Can I ask you something?" He smiled and nodded in the direction of her voice.

"Being blind... and living in this old, worn down place... must make you feel sad and pathetic at times right? But... but have you ever thought about ending your life to end the misery of living?"

He raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. This woman had no tact at all but he could sense a deep sadness about her so he shook his head and smiled.

"I guess, I'm always living with the hope that someday I might be able to see again. And that, my dear, is worth living for."

The man called Wade gave one last small smile and walked towards the door, using his hands on the wall as a guide. He carefully closed the door and counted the steps towards the living room.

"Master Wade, is she better? Poor woman."

"Abigail, thank you so much for letting her stay here. Your house is definitely closer than the main house and I couldn't carry her too far."

"Oh please, Sir. You should have called out to me sooner," she fussed, adjusting the shirt he was wearing.

"You're truly a gem, Abigail... Oh, and thank your husband for lending me his clothes. I wasn't exactly hoping to shift back until I got home but well, circumstances change."

Abigail gave a small laugh as she helped Wade to the door. He reached for his walking stick pressed against the wall and prepared himself for the walk back home.

"Oh, Abigail, the woman's name is Amara and she's under the impression that I live here so just oblige her for now. Say I'm your son or nephew or something."

"What? You, a servant boy?" she protested but Wade was walking away, fading into the dark even before she could finish what she wanted to say.

***

Amara leaned impatiently against the counter as she waited for the clerk to acknowledge her checkout from the hotel. She didn't know what was taking so long but she needed to be on the move soon. If she haggled too long in one place, he might find her. Her brows knitted at the thought of her ex. That son of a bitch had hunted her down to every motel in New York that she went to; begging for forgiveness and swearing that she was making a mistake of leaving him. He'd sweet talk his way, convincing her that he was remorseful and that he had changed. Oh... that bastard has sugar coated all over his tongue alright. If she even gave him a second to talk to her, she'd lap up the lies and swallow down the truth. Fuck him!

Amara must have been scowling for the clerk gave a fearful look when she returned with her receipt. Amara snatched it as evidence of her annoyance and strode out of the dodgy hotel. She had learnt her lesson from her hideout-hopping back home: Use only cash for all transactions so that her locations cannot be traced, never stay in a place for more than two days, take public transport and most importantly, alternate, but irregularly, between higher end hotels and cheap, filthy, hooker-infested motels.

Even as her mind carefully planned her next destination, her senses were set on alert. Beneath her sunglasses, she scanned her surroundings as discreetly as she could. It was shy of nine in the morning but the sun was still not fully out yet. It would be easy for anyone to lurk in the shadows unnoticed.

Keeping her hat tilted down, she walked fast towards the nearest London Underground station. Although she had been in London for less than a week, Amara had meticulously studied the Tube map and learnt all there was to know about the city's public transport system. She had gotten herself an Oyster card for easy travel; just tap and go. It was best to fit in and meld into the crowd instead of acting like a tourist, buying tickets ever so often and wanting to see the sights and sounds.

"There would be another time for that," she sighed to herself as she walked towards the gates of the station. As she was about to tap her card on the fare reader, she heard a soft whisper of her name.

"Lovely Mara..."

Amara's hands jerked suddenly to stop herself from tapping her card. Swinging herself around, she tried to recognize the faces around her.

"Come on lady!" snapped the man behind her. Amara's eyes immediately flew to his and felt an ounce of relief when she didn't recognize him. She tried to shake off the incident and got onboard the first train heading towards King's Cross.

The train was slightly crowded so Amara had to lean against the clear panels near the doors as there were no seats left. As she heaved her bag pack from her shoulders to the floor, she heard that voice again.

"Lovely Mara..."

This time, she didn't hesitate to turn and found herself face to face with the man from her nightmares; Jason Merrick.

"Hello Mara. Miss me?" he sniggered and traced a finger against her cheek. "I didn't think you would be so cruel as to leave me behind in New York."

"What are you doing here Merrick? I told you that we're over!" she snarled between gritted teeth. Amara was cursing herself at the moment for choosing to stand on the side of the tube where the doors did not open. It meant that she'd be boxed in by the crowd and stuck with her nemesis whether she liked it or not.

"I'm hurt by those harsh words Mara... I really am. We needn't be so formal with each other. Besides, you know why I'm here. Please listen to me Mara. You have to! I've divorced her, really I have! I knew the moment you left that it was you whom I wanted to be with, not that pompous bitch. Please believe me Mara... I wouldn't follow you like this if I'm not desperate to let you know the truth."

Amara tried to tune herself out from his voice. She didn't want to hear it; wouldn't... couldn't. He was doing it again, trying to trick her into believing him.

"You're lying, you're lying," she whispered to herself over and over again, clamping her eyes shut to pretend he was not inches away from her. Oh... but she could still smell him; sandalwood from his cologne, the hint of mint ointment that he liked to use on his hands and that overpowering musky scent of sex that just seems to radiate from him. It was impossible to simply not breathe even if she could block out her other senses from him.

As the train made a sharp turn, Amara felt Jason leaning closer to her. It took all of her self control to stay alert for she knew that King's Cross was the next station and she needed to get ready to flee once the doors opened.

"Jason, I'm sorry," she whispered as she pressed her lips onto his. His eyes widened slightly in shock before they softened and closed. It wasn't a gesture of relief but a way of expressing the unsaid 'I win'. She could feel his arrogant smirk on his lips and it was then that she kneed him hard on his groin and dashed away towards the doors.

She managed a backward glance and saw that he was writhing in pain, much to her delight.

"Urgh. Disgusting," she muttered as she tried to wipe her lips vigorously at her coat sleeve. She was about to cross over to another train line when she decided to ditch the plan and exit the London Underground to reach for a cab. She didn't want to risk being caught again if she stayed waiting for another train.

The moment she got into a taxi, she just told the driver to drive on while she thought of her destination. She had planned to take the tube all the way to Morden but Jason might be waiting for her there so she had to scrape that plan. After a long while, she rattled off an address from the piece of paper that the housekeeper, Abigail had given her.

She had a plan.

***

"I need to see Wade, now," she demanded as the middle-aged woman appeared at the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry Miss Amara, but he's not home at the moment... perhaps you'd like to come back another day?"

"No, you don't understand. I have to see him now. It is important."

Abigail looked at Amara with vague interest; one eyebrow raised as she inspected the woman before her. She was tall and not too skinny like the many girls that Abigail had seen around town. Her hair was dusted with gold streaks over brown and she wore it short with signs that it had been recently shorn off carelessly. Whoever this Yankee woman was, she definitely was trouble and Abigail wasn't sure if she should oblige her request to see Wade.

"So, can I see him or not?" she asked impatiently, folding her arms across her chest. Abigail narrowed her eyes slightly then invited her in.

"I'll get him. He's in the vineyard. Sit here please." With a huff, she left without looking back. Such a rude girl!

Eventually she found him smelling a bunch of grapes still on its vines. Abigail gave a sad sigh. Sometimes she wished he could see for himself, the beauty of the vineyard that he had started ten years ago.

"Why, hello Abigail? Is... something wrong?"

Abigail didn't bother to ask how he knew she was behind him for he'd always tell her he could scent her out a mile away.

"In fact, yes Sir. That lady, Miss Amara or what's her name is here looking for you. She says it's important."

Wade let go of the grapes he was holding and straightened his back.

"Do you know that if you pluck even one grape from the vine, the whole plant will die? Interesting isn't it?" he continued walking down the path, as though he had not heard her. Abigail frowned and followed behind him.

"Did you not hear me Sir?" she asked impatiently.

"Oh, I heard you fine Abigail and I also know that you don't want me to see her." Wade gave a laugh before her turned to face her. A warm hand came up to her shoulder and gave it a pat. "Please bring her to me. That'd be all." With a smile, he turned once more and continued walking down the path. As Abigail trudged away from him, he called out to her, "Don't pout Abby. It'll make you old faster."

Abigail ignored him and broke into a trot towards Amara.

"He's in the vineyard. He'd like to see you," she said grimly.

Amara gave a nod and walked out of the house towards the direction Abigail was pointing to. When she finally made it over the steep uphill, she saw, to her amazement, the most beautiful plantation that she had ever seen. From her vantage point, she could scent out the full bursting ripeness and flavor of the fruit.

Amara squinted her eyes slightly to try and spot Wade. He was literally in the middle of the plantation, poking at the soil and doing whatever it was that gardeners were supposed to do. She jogged slightly towards him but didn't break a sweat nor experienced a shortness of breath.

"So, you're a gardener huh?" she said as she came up to him. "Good, clean honest work."

"Very astute judgement, Miss Amara."

"Don't patronize me," she said automatically before she could stop herself. "Oh shit. I'm sorry. It's just a habit you know... this retorting thing."

Wade grinned and Amara caught sight of a dimple forming on his left cheek. "You don't have to be kind to me just because I'm blind. You're self-assertive to the point of brashness; cocky even and just a tad arrogant to the common man. And, as you've pointed out to me before, I am the epitome of the common man aren't I?"

"Well I..." she stammered, obviously at a loss for a response.

"Ah, Miss Amara, you're disappointing me. You're usually very big with words... so tell me, what is it you came here to talk to me about? It sounds very life and death to me."

Amara stuck her tongue out at him. Somehow she was beginning to regret coming here.

"Are you regretting that you came here?" he asked without looking at her.

"What? You can read minds now?"

Wade gave a laugh and tapped the earth with his walking stick. "Ah, no my dear Watson, your hesitation to come clean with whatever it is you've been practicing to say to me, tells me that you're having second thoughts. I can't read minds."

Wade began walking slowly down the path again, ignoring her. It was at times like this that he wished he could see her face; the minute expressions that she would make in anger. He bet she would still look beautiful even if she was scowling at him, which he was sure she was at the moment. But he didn't need to see her face to know she was beautiful.

"So, what is it?"

Amara gave out a long, slow breath.

"Wade, will you marry me?"

Her question made him stop in his tracks. He was not prepared for this. He thought she was going to plead with him to let her stay at Abigail's house or something; but marriage?

"I... I know we've just met and all but I'm serious. I... I promise I'll take care of you for my whole life. I mean, I know you're poor and I really don't mind that at all. You can live with me if you want or I can live here with you, whichever makes you comfortable. I'm a plastic surgeon but I have friends from the Ophthalmology field. They can help you... you know, restore your eyesight if you'd like."

Wade blinked a few times at her words. She was genuinely sincere about helping him regain his eyesight and he didn't sense any traces of dishonesty in her desire to marry him. What he did sense was a deep genuine fear; not of him... but of someone else. Wade stood rigidly, letting the silence hang between them.

After a long while, he cleared his throat, "I am very touched that a woman wants to marry a poor, blind man. Not every woman is willing to make that sacrifice. But, I want to know, what's your motive really for wanting this unholy matrimony?"

She hesitated for awhile before answering, "I... I have done so many bad things in my life... and I hope this is a way for me to redeem myself; the one good thing that I can do for another human being."




Apple of My Eye



Wade listened to her voice carefully as he considered their worth.

"They're going to want to prove that this is a legitimate relationship before they let us marry you know. Plus you're American so that's going to be really complicated. Lots of waiting time, various permit applications and so on. For all it's worth, it's a lot of time, money and resources wasted for such a sham. Go back home, Amara... find a good man and fall in love with him before you get married. I... I've been blind for many years. A few more years or a lifetime won't hurt." Wade lifted his hand and reached out to touch her hand, slowly moving his palm up till he reached her face. He grazed her cheeks slightly, feeling her soft skin and whispered, "Most importantly, I don't want you to get hurt."

He walked away from her, leaving her astounded. She simply stood there, silently until he had disappeared from her sight before she squatted down to cry.

***

September 2010

Abigail had nagged at him against his decision to look for Amara. Her exact words were- "You're a barmy arse for chasing after that dishy woman." He had retaliated by saying he couldn't actually see how dishy she was and gave her his million dollar grin.

However at that moment, Wade Spencer wasn't so sure about his hunt for the dishy woman. New York in September plastered his shirt on his back within minutes of leaving the airport. The sudden loud noises of the traffic and the bustling crowd alone were interfering with his sense of direction. He was thankful that Abigail and her husband Craig were with him. He curled a hand slowly around Abigail's arm, more for comfort than support.

"This sure is very different from our quiet existence," she commented. "Such a jarring contrast. I wish you could see it Wade."

"I wish I could too."

A while later, the three of them huddled into a cab and Wade instructed the driver to take them to the Ritz Carlton. He had heard that they had the best accommodations and service in the city and figured they'd be more helpful to a blind man and his two ageing companions than other hotels.

It hadn't taken him long to track down Amara's city of residence. He simply typed Amara and plastic surgeon and got multiple hits on the internet. Of course Craig had helped him to do the actual search and read all the headlines. He didn't like those screen readers much with their drone-like voices. It was creepy.

Nevertheless, he pushed on and finally managed to find the address and phone number for the private clinic she was working at. To his surprise, he successfully made an appointment to see Dr. Amara Winters in September. That meant that she had returned home after their brief episode in the vineyards a month ago.

He wasn't sure why she returned back to New York; back to where it was hurting her. Just for a brief second, he had considered that maybe she had made up with a lover and was overcome by a strange bout of jealousy that was uncalled for. He didn't even know this woman. She was simply a stranger who came to his door twice and then proposed to him. It wasn't everyday that a man gets proposed to and Wade figured that it gave him some right to feel jealous.

"Wade? Are you alright? We've reached the Ritz. Do you need me to help you out?" asked Abigail, shaking him out of his daze.

"Ah, no I'm fine. Thank you," he replied as he held on to the door for support and got himself out of the cab. He heard the distinct sounds of wheels behind them as they walked towards the check in counter as well as voices of concerned or perhaps curious guests whispering and looking at his direction. Wade couldn't help but chuckle. People are the same wherever they are. Gawking at the unusual was a human instinct.

After making payment for a five day stay at the hotel, he was ushered or rather 'manhandled' by an over-zealous hotel staff into the elevator. It was another side-effect of being blind. People tend to think he was incapable of doing even the basic things. He was about to laugh to himself when it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he was being 'manhandled' to avoid crashing into expensive vases and various artifacts that he assumed were placed strategically around the hotel. Surely they were not going to charge him for crashing into something he couldn't see would they? From that moment, Wade made every effort to appear clumsy and sauntered like a drunken man just to test his theory. It amused him to feel the staff beside him tensing up ever so often and jerking his hand to try and pull Wade away from an impending disaster.

When they finally made it to their room on the tenth floor, Abigail gave him a sharp tap on his arm.

"Bad boy! Don't think I don't know what you were doing! Now tell me Wade, are you sure you booked this room? It looks more like a house."

"It looks fine to me Abby. Really beautiful," he replied with a laugh.

"Oh, you're such a fine rascal aren't you?"

"Just direct me to my room. That would be the one with the single bed. I don't need the queen bed so you and Craig can take it."

"This is really too much for us, Sir. We really didn't mind living anywhere. You didn't have to bring us to such a grand place like this," said Craig, as he tipped the bellboy.

"Just take it as my gift for your fortieth anniversary. I know it's coming up," he replied kindly, reaching out for Craig's wrinkled hands.

***

The next morning, Wade had insisted that Craig and Abigail stay at the hotel and enjoy the amenities and privileges that came with their suite booking. He appeased their worries by letting them watch him enter a cab safely and he even let Abigail give the cab driver a run down of proper driving etiquette before giving the destination address. He wanted to them to be relaxed while they enjoyed themselves for the day.

Meanwhile, New York was fascinating even if he couldn't see anything. He could still feel the heat of September penetrating through the cab's thin metal body and hear the distinct sounds of car honks as opposed to a bus honk or the sound of tyres screeching over tar. He also learnt some interesting swear words from his ever friendly cab driver who'd hurl various choice curses at other drivers as he swerved and meandered through traffic.

Finally when they've reached his destination, Wade took in a deep breath. There was something about medical facilities and hospitals and their putrid, sterile, anti-bacterial wash smell that soothed him.

The clerk at the front desk had been friendly and even helpful but Wade could hear the doubt in her voice.

"I know what you're thinking. You're probably thinking, why would someone who couldn't see how he looked like care about how he looked? And to that, lovely lady is why those surgeons earn the big bucks," he said teasingly. He could hear a slight chuckle from the clerk as she walked with him to Dr. Winters's consultation room.

***

She wasn't expecting to see him although the name Wade did pull a string at her but she reasoned with herself that there were so many Wades in the world that it would be absurd to think it could be him.

Her first question proved her point.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Wade felt around for the chair opposite her and settled himself in before answering.

"Is that how you talk to your clients, Dr. Winters?"

Amara leaned back against her chair and scowled at him. After a moment, she leaned forward and narrowed her eyes to observe him closely.

"Tangerine body wash suits you very well. I admit the cheap soaps in the dodgy motels are such a turn off but I'm sure you know that. You're a very well groomed woman; a necessity for the trade. You're a walking advertisement of the services you provide here aren't you?"

"Mr. Spencer, I am the one who's supposed to do the observation and analysis. You're the client. Unfortunately, Mr. Spencer, I do not believe in deforming my god-given looks no matter how enticing it is. So what you see is what you get which of course, you don't get at all."

Her play on words amused and intrigued him at the same time.

"So tell me, Doctor, what can you tell me about my face then?"

Amara cocked an eyebrow and gave an exaggerated pondering sound.

"Let's see... your nose bridge is way too high, it gives you that parrot look and your eyes, oh my god... they're just too wide apart that it's aesthetically disturbing beyond speculation. And don't even get me started on those ears. Now, you've got really nice lips, professionally speaking of course but it's just a mismatch with all the flaws on your face. So in a nutshell, you're screwed big time Mr.Spencer."

"Now you're just being mean," he replied, roaring with laughter. "So, if you're going to rearrange my face and make me a greek god look-alike does that mean you're staying in New York for good?"

His question startled her for she was in such a jovial mood from their banter.

"I... Well, yes. Isn't that what you told me to do? Go home Amara and find a good man to fall in love with or something fancy like that."

Wade turned his head in the direction of her voice. "I'm really sorry."

Amara shook her head slightly then gave a casual shrug. "It's okay." To her surprise, Wade reached out for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "My answer is yes."

At that moment, Wade wished he could have seen the look on her face; the way her eyes widened to express her shock, relief, confusion and tenderness all meshed into one. But Wade settled for her sharp intake of breath and the feel of an escalating pulse at her wrist which was currently in his hand.

"I will settle the papers once I get back. You're going to have to enter the UK under a fiancée visa and then we can get married within six months, if that's okay with you. I don't know how to make it any sooner."

"Ah... actually, Wade, it's better if we get married here. I've asked around and apparently it's much faster if I apply for a Settlement visa for a spouse and sponsor you throughout your stay here until the green card's approved. I mean... it must have cost you a bomb just to fly here didn't it. I'm so sorry Wade. I'll pay you back for the flight, don't you worry."

Her reply pleased him because it meant that she had not made up with her lover as he had assumed. However, Wade leaned back, unsure if he should be insulted or amused. How could she think of marrying a man whom she thinks is a gardener when she doesn't even know the truth about him? And yet, her desire to marry within the shortest possible time was simply weird.

"Are you planning to use me for some weird surgery experiment and thus you'd want us married asap? That way I'll be legally yours right? Bugger that."

She laughed hysterically and slapped his hand. "Don't plant ideas into me."

Wade smiled at her and knew that she was smiling back.

"Do you have a place to stay for the mean time?" she asked.

"I'll manage. It's you I'm worried about. I don't know what he did to you but I know you're hurting."

"How did you... ah never mind."

"You'll tell me when you're ready. Secrets are bad for marriage," he said in a sing-song voice.

"Consultation time's up. I'll see you out," she laughed. "My number's in your jacket pocket."

***

She was relieved when he called her the next day to schedule a meet up. She was starting to have doubts about him chickening-out with the plan. Whatever it was, she was going to take the plunge today and tell him the truth. Come what may. If he chooses to walk out of her life forever then she'll accept it and find another solution to her problem.

"What am I, nuts? Of course the guy's not here for purely romantic reasons! It's a business transaction for god's sake. I get a husband and he gets his surgery. It's that simple. Or is it?" she mumbled to herself as she started to brush angrily at her unruly hair. She should not have hacked at it blindly with a scissors but it had been a matter of urgency to disguise herself back then. But now it was just annoying; having bits of hair sticking out at awkward angles! She slapped a glob of hair cream to tame them and gave up after awhile.

"Who gets jitters from a date with a blind man? He can't see you for god's sake!" Her laughter bordered on hysteria. Eventually she crammed a wide brimmed hat over her head and twirled herself in front of the mirror.

"Looking good Amara Winters. You'll be a knockout... except your date won't appreciate it." She rolled her eyes, cursed at herself for trying too hard to impress a blind man and got out of her apartment.

Amara didn't bother with driving today. No one drives in New York if they could help it although with the current heat, she wouldn't mind the instant comfort of the air-condition instead of waiting at the curb for a cab.

Eventually she reached the restaurant and spotted Wade already seated and waiting for her. Surprisingly he was well dressed in tailored pants with a vest over a pressed shirt and his hair... that mass of pretty brown curls simply caught her breath. He smiled at her as she arrived as if he sensed her presence coming towards him.

"I would say you're beautiful but I won't," he said getting up slowly and reaching out a hand to search for her.

"I'd say you're gorgeous but I won't," she replied with a laugh and sat down.

"You think I'm gorgeous? I thought you said my face was a goner even surgery couldn't fix?" he teased.

"I did not say that! And anyway, I'm not in my professional medical capacity at the moment so my judgment of beauty is as flawed as any human's can be."

"Very good save, Doctor," he agreed and tried to study his menu. "So what shall we have for dinner..."

"I'll read it out for you," she said, taking the menu away from him. Amara couldn't help smiling just a little. Wade really made her laugh with his repartee and for once, she felt that she could relax because the person in front of her wasn't interested in her for her looks. That was if he was interested in her at all.

She rattled on the menu for him, describing in as much detail as possible what the picture beside the name looked like. Finally he settled for some pasta and she had grilled fish.

"Thank you," he said after the waiter was gone.

"No problem."

"Not about the menu reading. I mean, thank you for taking me out tonight. It's been... a long time since I stepped out of home."

Amara wasn't sure what to make of that so she kept quiet and sipped her wine gently.

"So..." he began.

Amara bit her lips nervously before succumbing to her emotions. "Wade... I'm really sorry about all this. I... I still haven't thanked you properly for saving my life," she whispered with a half sob. "But I'm really big on this karma thing and I feel it kinda means I owe you a life in return."

Wade leaned back in his seat with his wine glass between his fingers.

"Ah... but that's just the icing of the cake isn't it?"

"I... Well, the truth is... I'm hoping that if I get married, he will stop." Wade didn't say anything but kept quiet, allowing her to continue at her own pace. "That's what he said to me- 'I'm not going to stop chasing you till you're at that altar'"



"And you believe him?" asked Wade casually. "You do know that altar doesn't have to mean marriage right Amara? He could mean till you're dead. The biggest sacrifice on the altar."

"I... oh. No. He's not capable of that."

"Maybe, but it still doesn't rule out that possibility. Plus, a poor blind man can't really protect you much."

"I don't know what else to do Wade. I've tried running away but he keeps finding me each and every time. He's a lawyer. He has good connections. There's just no escape! And that's just him. I haven't even gotten to his wife yet."

"Ah, the case of the jealous spouse," he mused.

"I'm serious! She's crazy I tell you. She left a pig's head outside my apartment once with a knife through one of its eyeballs. I've since moved out."

"How'd you know it's her?"

"There was a note attached to the knife that said: Keep your filthy whore hands away from my husband if you don't want to end up like this."

"Did you go to the police?"

"Of course I did! But I told you he's some big shot A/P right so he managed to have the case dissolved. Argh! I hate that bastard!" Amara slammed her fist onto the table, much to the surprise of the waiter who arrived with their food.

"Such a fiery temper," he commented as he felt for the fork and spoon on his table. After taking in a forkful of pasta, he pondered for awhile before speaking, "Well then Amara, I'll be in New York for another three days. Is that enough time for you to arrange all the necessary papers?"

Amara almost choked on her fish. "What? Three days? I need at least a week!" she swallowed her food and took a deep breath. "Tell you what. Why don't you stay with me at my apartment while we sort this out?"

"I don't know about that... I mean, there's still the vineyard to look after."

"I'll call your employer and explain to him for you. You don't worry about that." Wade tried to conceal his smile behind his wine glass. He was going to hold out the truth from her just a little longer. He was musing with himself when he suddenly sensed a dark presence within their vicinity. Wade frowned to try and sought out its location but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Wade? Is something wrong?"

"Uh. No, it's nothing. Don't worry about it," he said reassuringly.

Later on after they've had coffee and dessert, Wade insisted that she got into the cab first while he waited for the next one. He was glad that she didn't protest much and even gave him a kiss on his cheek before she got into the cab. As the sounds of the cab's engine faded away, Wade stood still and waited.

Then he felt it again only this time whoever it was, was coming towards him. Wade lifted his walking stick to keep the person at bay. "What do you want from me?" he asked. Wade didn't need to wait for the person to speak to know it was a man. He had heard the heavy footsteps made from the distinct sound of male loafers and scented stale smoke over a hint of aftershave.

"Stay away from her or else," said the man before walking away. Instead of feeling threatened, Wade lowered his walking stick and stood calmly by the curb, flagging for a cab.

***

"You what?" exploded Abigail in an uncontrolled manner. "You're getting married? Good Lord, Wade! You've really gone off your trolley now!"

"Oh, don't be silly Abby. He hasn't gone mad. There, there, sit down here," said Craig with a grim look on his face. Once he was satisfied that Abigail had calmed down, he turned to Wade patiently.

"I apologize for her outburst. It is really unexpected for us, Sir. Are... are you sure about this? Do we need to inform the Al..."

"No!" said Wade firmly, stopping Craig mid sentence. "My decision is my responsibility alone and yes, I am sure about this."

Craig looked down at his wife and patted a hand on her shoulder. She was beginning to weep.

"You silly, silly boy! What do you know about her? She's in it for the money, I'm sure. Don't fall for it Sir!" she cried.

"I told you before that she thinks I'm just a poor gardener or a servant boy. She really has no clue about anything. Besides she doesn't need more money. She's a plastic surgeon. They earn enough to support a whole town!"

"Oh Sir! I just cannot imagine it! You with that... that girl?" she protested.

"What is it about her that you do not like, Abby?" asked Wade gently.

"She's... rude! And untethered. It's like she has no moral grounding in her life. She tried to kill herself for god's sake!"

"Hush Abby! Don't speak like that!" warned Craig as he gave her a little shake.

"Let her be Craig. She's entitled to her worries as any mother would to her child," replied Wade with a gentle smile. "But, I have made my decision."




Apple of My Eye



"And Sir? Have you told her about your..." whispered Craig. He did not want to mention the word 'wolf' loudly.

"It might not be necessary to even mention it but we'll see," he replied, leaning back onto the chair and closing his eyes. "As for now, I want the two of you to have a good stay in New York. Go and see all the tourist sights and have fun. There's an envelope on your bed. You'll find what you need inside. I'm afraid I'll have to stay a little longer here but both of you have to return home at the end of the week to tend the vineyards in my absence. It is harvest in a fortnight."

***

At the end of the week, Wade, Abigail and Craig said their goodbyes at the lobby of the hotel. It took him almost an hour to persuade Abigail that he would be fine and that the staff would tend to him should he need anything.

As he leaned back against the plush sofas at the hotel lobby, he wondered about his real motive for getting married to Amara. Truth was he didn't need to get married. If he had wanted a corneal transplant, he could have gotten one years ago but he had chosen to live his life with his blindness. It reminded him of the essence of life itself. At times, when your life seems perfect, you often overlook certain things or even close an eye over the flaws in others. The gift of sight doesn't really mean that you see things for what they are. Ironically, being blind has made him open his eyes to see things more clearly.

Marriage was simply a binding contract between two individuals. Soulmates and the likes are just an over-emphasized and advertised hoax to get people to spend lavishly on each other in the name of love. Just think about it: birthdays, valentines' day, Christmas... Even the wolf pack custom of mating was just another disguise for an evolutionary theory. Animals in the natural world seek out a mate that they consider the best choice to continue their legacy, not because they're soulmates or whatever. They choose the fittest and strongest mate because they wish their young to be able to survive in the harsh wild conditions. Why do you think males have that extravagant display of their prowess and sexuality in front of females in heat during the mating season? It all boils down to instinct and that's it. As for him, he has no interest whatsoever in mating with this woman. It was instinctive not to want to pass down a disability to the next generation regardless of whether it's hereditary or not.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not realize that Amara had been standing next to him until she tapped his shoulder lightly. To his surprise, she curled her arm under one of his as though to help him up and guide him as he walked. He heard the sound of wheels from behind him and guessed that she was pulling his luggage along. It wasn't that he wasn't used to being fussed by a woman, seeing how Abigail takes care of him, but knowing a woman who made no fuss about not being treated like a lady intrigued him.

Him being blind was not a reason for her not to expect such a treatment. In fact, he could tell that she didn't care if a man holds the door for her or pulls out a chair for her in the restaurant. However, she had a certain control streak about her, by the way she held his arm; not an "I'm here for you type" like Abigail but "Come on walk or else". Wade found that it amused him as much as it annoyed him. What should he make of that?

When they arrived at her apartment, she left him at the entrance as she hauled his bag inside. By the way she moved around, he could tell that her apartment had only one bedroom and he had a hunch that she was going to be camping on the couch for the next few days. Do married couples behave that way? Wade shrugged to himself and stood rooted at the front door.

She had left the balcony door open. There was no way a mere window could let in that much breeze in sweltering September.

"Amara?" he called out. "Does your cooling system happen to be broken down or something?"

She yelled back something that sounded like a 'yes'.

"Figures. One must be pretty desperate to cool an apartment that way," muttered Wade to himself as he stepped out of his shoes and felt the warm wooden floor against his socked feet. She had probably painted the house in some sort of pale pink or orange colour with wooden cornices to match the floor. He'd check with her on that but he was sure that she would try as much as possible to make her home an exact contrast to the still and sterile conditions of her office.

When she finally came out of her room to shut her front door, he heard her move to keep his shoes on the right side of the door. She mustn't have many shoes if she had space for his. But he could be wrong. Women always seemed to have more shoes than their feet could wear.

"Have a seat. The sofa's straight ahead but watch out for the glass coffee table. I'm going to make some tea."

While she was gone, Wade made his way to the sofa. This was why he hated leaving home. New environments scared him and he was always told to watch out for this or that.

When she came back, he heard her settle two cups on top of two saucers and placed a plate of something between them.

"Here's your tea," she said patiently, guiding his fingers to the cup. "Be careful, it's hot. I'll put the cookie plate on the right side of the table okay?"

"You don't strike me as the baking type," he replied, biting into a cookie and reveling in its taste. "But you're good at it. Maybe you should open a bakery and dump the whole doctor gig."

"I bake a lot... when I'm stressed. How do you know that?"

"It's the cooling system's fault really. It doesn't vent the butter and sugar smell out of the apartment that well. But it's nice... it's homely."

"Right. And secondly, what you don't like doctors?"

"Nah... they always think they know everything. Always want to be in control of the situation, always thinking they're the smartest person in the room." He gave a noncommittal shrug and grinned. "But obviously they're wrong, especially if they're sitting in a room with me."

She choked back a laughter, "Yeah right. Smart mouth."

They kept silent for awhile, each not knowing what else to say to the other. It suddenly dawned upon Amara that she was about to get married to this stranger in front of her and she didn't know anything more about him except that he's a gardener from England.

"I..." she stammered, not knowing where to begin. What do you tell a person you've just met whom you're getting married to? This must be how couples who have arranged marriage must feel: Awkward.

"I'll start first," he said simply, sensing her hesitance. "I'm the eldest of five siblings. I have three sisters and my only brother, is the youngest. My family has been in the wine and brew business for many years, although my parents are semi-retired now. However, I live alone with my caretakers, Abigail and Craig Fletcher. Oh and I've been blind since I was 27years old. My records will show that I am now 37 but age is just a number. I feel way older than that." Wade grinned and pointed to her.



"I know how you feel. I mean, I hate telling people my age because I don't look like my age and they'll start asking all these weird questions and asking if I've ever had surgery... sorry, digressing. I'm actually 30. I've just earned my medical license two years ago. I did my residency in Kaiser Permanente Northern California... yes I know it's on the other side of the coast but hey, everybody comes to New York at one point or another. For me, it doesn't really matter where I work 'coz I don't have any family. I was in foster care for a few years and the moment I was legal I got the hell out of the system. I worked my ass off for the top grades in class so I could get scholarships to be a doctor."

"But why plastic surgeon?"

"Because it's where the big bucks are. I knew what it was like to be poor and not have the money to buy what I wanted and I hated it. So I know how you must feel. Anyway, I heard from some kid back when I was young that you either be a politician, a lawyer or a doctor if you want to be rich. Either that or you gamble big time or hook yourself to a rich bastard."

"Being a pretty accessory doesn't suit you?"

"Nah. Ironically, beauty is now my business and I see so many young women going under the knife willingly to become one of those pretty accessories."

"Ah well. One has to sacrifice to survive."

Amara smiled and lifted her cup. "I'll second that. Salut!"

Wade imitated her gesture and leaned back. "Tell me, Amara... why do you insist on sleeping on the couch tonight?"

"I haven't insisted on anything yet!"

"Ah but you were planning to when you tell me to take your bed tonight."

Amara kept quiet. She wished he could see her glaring at him right now. Why does he have to be smart assed about everything?

"You take the couch then," she scoffed and got up

"That'd be so mean of you. I'm the guest remember?" he teased as he heard her walking away. "You're always welcome to share the bed with me!" he shouted out and heard her grumble away, much to his amusement.

However, to his dismay, he found himself curled on her uncomfortable couch for the night. His only glimmer of hope was that she had left her bedroom door ajar, possibly with the intention of being within an earshot of his cries.

Wade couldn't help himself. He was a man locked in the same house with a real breathing woman. How many years had it been since he was with one? Ten, fifteen years? It was an animal's instinct to react to the opposite sex. And he was an animal, in more ways than one. Wade chuckled at his own joke before curling up and trying to shut his eyes. He'll make love to her someday... but not tonight.

***

October 2010

It was the first day of the month. It had taken Amara longer than she expected to get the paperwork processed. Although Wade had provided her with all the necessary documentations, it was still a complicated process. They were scheduled for an interview at a later date to ascertain the validity of their petition to marry. When she told him, Wade simply leaned back on his couch lazily and covered his face with a pillow.

"You could just get married to an American you know. Saves us both the time."

"I don't like to do things halfway. I mean you're already here so that means you do have some interest in this marriage thing right?"

"That would be very intuitive of you. But I have no interest whatsoever in this marriage."

"What?" Amara almost broke her heel as she spun around to face him. "What do you mean?"

"It's just a contract to me. I believe the marriage will help lay off that scary boyfriend of yours and I get a chance to get my eyesight back right? Then you can do a quickie divorce, whatever. Isn't that the plan?"

Amara threw a mini cushion at Wade. Technically he was right but why was she feeling so angry at his words? Knowing that she was angry at him for saying the truth made her angrier with herself. Throwing her hands up in the air, she stormed into her room and slammed the door.

After awhile, she felt calmer and slightly guilty for walking out on him in the middle of a conversation. She opened her door slightly and took a peek to see where he was. Apparently Wade was still sprawled on the couch. She didn't blame him. It was nearly 11pm.

"Wade? Are you still up?" she whispered.

"Mmm? What? Are you going to have another bout of temper? I don't think our neighbours are going to like it much," he replied; his voice muffled by the pillow on his face.

She opened her door wide and leaned against the door frame.

"We've still got to pass that interview you know. They'll ask every possible question that you could think of and random ones at that. Like what's my favorite color, do I like my coffee black or with milk or even what type of underwear I prefer."



Wade took the pillow off his face but didn't open his eyes.

"I can just tell the officer I can't see you know. He'll take pity."

"A relationship isn't based only on what you see Wade," she replied in an annoyed voice.

"I know that. Like for example, I know that you're annoyed at me because I'm almost always right and you like to shift your weight on one leg when you get impatient. I also know that your favourite colour is pink or orange or some warm pastel colour. Also, you prefer tea to coffee although I do suppose you drink coffee... with a little milk but lots of sugar just like how you take your tea. Am I right?" When she didn't answer, he grinned. "And I can know that you wear either silk or satin underwear all the time, even at home."

Amara raised an eyebrow. "Have you been groping me in my sleep, Wade?"

"Maybe."

"Seriously!"

"Oh come on. I'm a gentleman. But I can tell by the way your skirt or pants material slide smoothly when you walk. There's no scratchy sounds characteristic of cotton on nylon and so on. However, I can usually tell when you're not wearing matching lingerie because it's rare to not hear your blouse scratching all over your..."

"Shut up. That's enough description or else you're sleeping outside in the balcony." Even as she threatened him, Amara couldn't help a smile. It was hard to stay angry at him even when he was being annoying. Shaking her head, she turned to go back to her bed.

"Amara?" he called softly. When he sensed that she was looking at him, he continued, "My favourite colour is purple... or magenta really, like the colour of ripe grapes and wine. I don't really like tea much but I'm too kind to tell you that. I drink my coffee with half the cup full of milk and I prefer briefs to boxers as I feel more secure."

Amara smiled and walked towards him. "Thanks Wade." With a smile, she pulled his blanket up to his chin and bent down to press a kiss on his forehead. Even in the darkness she could make out his features and noticed the sexy curve of his lips which she always found alluring. She debated with herself about kissing him and stood in that bent position for some time before she felt one of his hands moving up from her arm to her neck to pull her gently close.

The touch of his lips on hers was casual and meant not to last for more than a second. However, something seemed to sizzle and they remained lip locked for a while longer, each unsure of the next move.

However, being on top gave Amara the upper hand so she pulled away and stared at Wade. His eyes were open and staring up; unable to focus on anything. At that moment, Amara wished that he could see her and see for himself how desperately she wanted to kiss him again.

Wade began to smile and searched for her face, tapping his hands upwards from her shoulders to her cheek. He caressed her cheek softly and whispered, "I want to kiss you too, if you'd let me."

His kiss was gentle and curious at the same time, coaxing her lips open to draw out her tongue. Amara's heart was pounding slightly as she dared herself to deepen the kiss. She slanted her lips over his, seeking more, demanding more.

"Wade..." she murmured against him. She rested one knee between his thighs on the couch, her hands at either side of his head and leaned her weight slightly on top of him as they continued their kiss. She could feel him getting slightly hard beneath her but he made no attempt to move his hands from her neck. She was about to move his hand down towards her breast when she felt him tense up without warning.

"Shh," he said, placing his fingers on her lips and using his other arm to gently push her away. "There's someone outside your door."

All thoughts about the kiss went out the window as she felt cold sweat prickling at her neck. Her hand reached slowly for Wade's walking stick and unfolded it as quietly as she could. Instead of giving it to him, she held it up like a baseball bat, ready to swing it into action.

Wade rolled onto the floor silently and got on his hands and knees. He could scent Amara's fear and knew that she was too scared to say or do anything to stop him. He moved across the wooden floor soundlessly, using his hands on the floor as a guide, sensing the vibrations of whoever's outside the door. It was a man; the same man with the wide soled loafers who approached him previously but he had stopped pacing.

Wade stayed grounded, ready to pounce should the man attempt to enter. He would shift if necessary; damn the consequences. He perked his senses and waited with the patience of a predator that was going for the kill.

The floorboards creaked slightly....

Wade heard something scraping underneath the door.

Then the man was gone; the sound of his footsteps walking away from the door. Wade stayed in position a while longer to make sure that the man was really gone before he got up.

"Come here. He pushed something underneath the door. What is it?"

He heard Amara shuffle slightly but she didn't come towards him.

"Is... is he really gone?" she asked instead.

"Yes," he replied with as much reassurance as he could muster.

"Okay," she squeaked and tiptoed towards him. He heard her squat to pick up something before she gave a gasp and took a step back. "Oh god... oh my god..."

Wade remained silent for awhile before he asked what's wrong.

"You belong only to me and no one else," she read, trembling slightly. "If... if you continue your blatant act of defiance, there will be consequences." Amara gave out a long breath.

"Is that all?" asked Wade gently.

"No... He uh..." she stammered. Wade moved forward and reached out to hold her close. "There's a... a picture of a decapitated stick man drawing." She whispered the last few words and buried her face at the crook of his shoulders. "We have to get out of here tomorrow... we have to go. I... I should pack."

Wade didn't reply but held her closer. He thought this man was just your average jilted lover turned stalker but the situation does seem slightly more severe than that. This man was capable of violence or abuse... at least not physically but he had hurt her, emotionally and psychologically. Just the thought of her cowering in fear made him want to rip the man's head off with his teeth.

When he felt her shudder in his arms, Wade shook himself out of his thoughts and patted her back slowly. "I would carry you back to bed if I could but I can't. However, I can sleep with you tonight if you want some company. I promise I will not do anything that you do not want me to. I will never hurt you," he whispered softly to her ear.

He felt her nod as her hand clasped around his and lead him into her room. Even in her distraught state, she carefully led him to the bed and pulled the comforters over him before getting into bed herself. Wade let her curl up against him and waited until she had drifted off to sleep before he allowed himself to follow suit.

***

He awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, shocked for a moment to find himself in bed with a woman. He almost called her "Cassie" before his half-asleep mind jerked into full consciousness and he stopped himself.

"Bloody hell," he cursed, slowly trying to sit up. Why the hell was he thinking of her for? It must be all that drama about the ex-lover earlier that made him think of her. Perhaps at the subconscious level, he still missed her. It had been over a year since he had any dreams of her.

"Wade?" whispered Amara groggily. "Is something wrong? Is he back?" Wade felt her tensing. Drawing her close, he let her head rest idly on his chest.

"No, everything's fine... I'm here," he replied, patting her arm softly, trying to put her to sleep. Amara felt comfortable and peaceful leaning against him even though she didn't feel sleepy anymore. Up close, she noticed that he did not use any cologne and smelled only of soap. Even then, she found it alluring. Her fingers carelessly played with his pajama buttons, twirling it between her fingers.




Apple of My Eye



Wade simply smiled but didn't attempt to make any moves. Pride would have him say it was gentleman conduct that made him resists her but the truth was, he wasn't sure if he still remembered how to seduce a woman. The last time he was with a woman he could see and appreciate her but now his lack of sight made him feel inadequate.

"Amara... I..."

"Yes?" she asked longingly, looking at him expectantly. Wade caressed her cheek lightly with his knuckles.

"I cannot tell you that you're beautiful or that your skin is flawless... I can't tell you that I love how your hair looks or that I adore the colour of your eyes. And most importantly, I can't see the look on your face when I make you cum and honestly, I don't think you'd appreciate that."

His bluntness shocked her but it didn't deter her. She simply laughed and shook her head.

"I'm not perfect Wade," she replied, taking his hands and placing them on her head. "Feel how I've shorn my hair haphazardly? It's currently also an ugly shade of brown." From there she brought his hands down to her arms. "And feel this. That's a flabby underarm due to lack of triceps toning." She then moved his hands and placed them at each side of her cheek such that he was cupping her. "They say blind people can recognize a person by touching their face. I want you to know me, Wade," she said encouragingly.

Wade could believe that she was finally letting him touch her- not just the usual touch of support or comfort but really touch her: her eyes, her lips, the bridge of her nose...

Wade had never been so nervous with a woman before and yet here he was, heart thumping like a virgin.

She was whispering his name... Wade... Wade...

She had said it many times; in happiness, in surprise, in anger, in that nagging tone of hers... but never like this- so needy and deliciously lustful to his ears.

He gave a growl of appreciation as he felt her lips over his; soft and plump. He reveled in the taste, both hers and his and he sought more... He wanted to know her mouth.

He pushed his tongue into her mouth slowly, drawing out her tongue, hoping to wrestle somewhat lovingly with it. She passionately responded to every move he made. Wade trailed a finger over the side of their joint lips and down to the sexy cleft on her chin. He was surprised that he had not noticed it before and he pulled away, just for a second, to plant a kiss on her chin.

As he trailed his lips up along the side of her jaw, he felt her jaw muscles tense slightly. He could hear her take a sharp deep breath and he couldn't help but smile as his lips moved further down her neck; taking in the sweet floral scent of her bath scrub on her skin. Her hands moved impatiently over his pajama buttons once again and he obliged, leaning back and feeling her eager fingers press onto his taut chest.

"Nice," she murmured, planting a kiss on his chest before trailing them down his abdomen. Her fingers expertly began to pull the waistband of his pajama pants down, exposing more of his skin to the cool night air. When she was satisfied that he was naked except for his briefs, she straddled him. Wade tried to imagine how she would look; constructing her face using what he remembered from touching her face earlier. He could hear her taking off her t-shirt and heard it land careless on the floor.

"Touch me Wade," she urged. His fingers moved gingerly from her stomach to her breasts which were still confined by cotton bra.

"I knew they didn't match," he said teasingly as his fingers reached out behind her to unclasp her bra. She removed it and threw it on the floor along with their other articles of clothes. Wade tried to imagine once again how they looked by the feel of her breast in his hands. They were of a good size, fitting perfectly in his hands. He squeezed them slightly, feeling its natural softness. Instinctively, he moved closer to press his face between her breasts, inhaling the sweet scent of her body. His lips moved towards a nipple, feeling it harden between his lips. He gave a soft suck and heard her gasp. Feeling encouraged, he sucked harder, alternating between her two nipples, hearing the delicious sounds of her moans urging him on.

Wade could feel her hips gyrating on top of his hard cock which was still confined beneath his briefs. He was about to move his hands to push it down when he felt her move. She was standing and for a moment, Wade was unsure what was going to happen. Then suddenly, he felt her moving closer towards him, her hands guiding his to her firm butt.

"You know what to do," she whispered silkily. Wade was about to protest when her scent hit him hard. He tilted his head up to seek the source of the scent and was rewarded with her warm, moist pussy directly above his face. Experimentally, Wade gave it a lick and heard her moan and felt her move her hips closer to his lips.

"Am I doing it right?" he asked. Amara didn't reply but simply pressed her pussy onto his face, demanding that he licked her to an orgasm. Wade obliged, licking the folds of her pussy and sucking hungrily on her clit like a hungered man. His fingers curiously moved from her butt cheeks down to her pussy, tracing the lips in an attempt to construct them in his mind. Her skin was soft and slick with her juices, making it easy for his finger to slip into her pussy.

"Oh god, you're going to make me cum..." she screamed, moving her hips uncontrollably as her orgasm wrecked her body, much to his pleasure.

When she finally calmed down, she sank to her knees and leaned her head on his chest.

"That was pretty amazing," he said, rubbing her hips gently. "But now it's your turn to please me."

"My pleasure," she replied and slid her fingers underneath the waistband of his briefs. Wade took the slightest intake of breath as her warm hand descended on his throbbing cock. He felt her shuffling around and a second later let out a loud groan as he felt her pussy clamping deliciously on top of his cock.

"Oh god, Amara..." he moaned. His hands tried to hold her hips down but she was bouncing herself on top of him, squeezing his cock with every stroke she made. He wished he could see her; see their bodies merging at that one point for the sensations were simply too out of this world for him to describe or imagine.

When she leaned forward to kiss him, Wade took his chance to hold her close and rolled her on her back. Gently, he eased her thighs up and hooked them over his shoulders before he pressed himself down, pushing his cock deeper inside her. He began to thrust in and out, slowly at first before picking up speed. Amara moaned with every stroke he made, losing herself to the sensation of his cock plummeting inside of her.

"Fuck me Wade... harder," she managed to say before she felt him plunge deep inside of her, robbing her of her breath. He was letting go of her legs now, leaning towards her with his cock all the way in to the hilt. He gave a quick thrust and felt her pussy muscles clench around him. Wade smiled as he felt her body shivering from her orgasm. He didn't give her time to recover from it though and continued pounding into her, racing towards his own release.

"Baby, where do you want me to cum," he said between breaths.

"Oh god... anywhere... just don't stop!" she screamed. Wade held on to her tight and gave a few more thrusts. When he was at his limit, he almost pulled out but stopped when he heard a loud whine in his head. It shocked him to hear his wolf whine and howl its protest.

I'm sorry buddy. I can't. I'll get her pregnant! Wait... you want her to get what?

Wade didn't manage to finish his internal conflict for Amara had begun to move her hips up and down in a passionate frenzy, urging him to fuck her more. Bracing himself, Wade thrust his hips forward, feeling the same tightness in her pussy that signaled that she was cumming. As he felt her body begin to tense, Wade gave a final thrust and came in thick hot jets inside of her.

Wade's eyelids fluttered uncontrollably as the force of his cum robbed him of his breath. He could feel his body literally emptying itself inside her. It left him weak and he collapsed right on top of her. It had been too long since he had such a release and for the first time he had to fight with his wolf over the possession of his lover.

Wade thought that was strange as he rolled over to one side to catch his breath and calm down. So his wolf approves of this woman. That's a first. Wade smiled and opened his eyes, only to see the most amazing pair of brown eyes staring into his. He blinked back in shock and then it was all dark again.

***

When he woke up the next morning, he heard a lot of clanging coming from the kitchen and figured that Amara was making breakfast or attempting to make some. He carefully made his way to her bathroom to freshen up before heading out to the living room couch, guided by the sound of the tv airing the morning news.

He had barely made it to the couch when he heard her curse loudly.

"Damn those sons of bitches!"

Wade shook his head as he leaned back against the sofa and tried to listen to what was being said on tv. He heard her talking and guessed that she was on the phone. Every ten minutes or so, she'd pace about and swear at the top of her voice. Therefore it did not surprise him when he heard her throw and break something in the sink. It sounded like a plate.

Not wanting to share the same fate as the plate, he remained quiet as she came into the living room.

"I fucking hate bureaucracy!" she snapped. Wade could hear her pacing about, barefooted. "Two weeks my ass! It's in fucking December for godsake. And why do they keep calling it a petition? I'm not a fucking politician!"

"Honey, you're making me horny with all those fornication thoughts. In a sadistic and twisted way, your crude language turns me on." Wade gave a soft chuckle and shook his head in amusement.

"Oh bite me! I've been on hold for ten minutes now and I'm not feeling like I could 'please hold' it any longer," she retorted, mimicking the sing-song tone of the operator. Finally she gave up and slammed the phone onto its receiver. "They will only approve of our petition after we go for an interview. But the interview's early in December."

"Then relax," said Wade calmly as he slapped his hand on the empty space beside him. "You can go back to England with me. That way you can get away from here... and from him for the time being." Wade reached for her thigh and patted it gently. "It'll also give us more time to learn about each other."

Resigned, she gave a sigh and sat next to him. "Yes, you're right," she admitted. "So how do like your eggs?"

"That depends on what I'm in the mood for. I'm not a very picky eater, if you must know."

"That's good coz I've already scrambled them."

"Would you have them redone if I said I didn't like scrambled eggs?"

Amara gave him a murderous look, only to regret that he couldn't see it. "Nah. I'd say either do it yourself or starve."

"Just my luck to have such a vicious wife then," he chuckled as he got up. Amara didn't reply him. She was just a little shocked to hear him call her his wife. It seemed odd to her... and yet, so right.

***

November 2010

"It's harvest time right now so the vineyard's going to be really busy. We usually start picking the grapes in late October, just before the weather gets frosty. You could help if you'd like."

Wade was smiling as he stepped out of the hired ride back to his home. The scent of the grapes still lingered in the air even though he knew that half of them were probably in the storage room at the moment.

"Do I have to like stomp on the grapes or something? I mean that sounds really yuckie. I have warts on my toes."

"Fortunately, I do not require your wart-infested toes for extracting the grape juices," he replied with a broad grin. "So do you prefer white wine or red?"

"White I suppose. Do you really use green grapes to make white wine and red grapes to make red wine?"

Wade stopped in his track and tapped his walking stick on the ground.

"My darling, you'll be shot and left for dead if you ever ask such a ridiculous question in these fields."

Amara was about to retort when she realized that they were walking away from the house she had woken up in when they first met. Instead, he was leading her up a gentle slope to another house that was much nearer to the vineyards.

"Where are we going?" she demanded. Wade considered his answer carefully before speaking.

"We're heading towards the owner's house. He uh, let's me stay there because of my condition. It's nearer to the fields."

Amara gave him a skeptical look but didn't argue. The house was slightly bigger but it had that weathered look that made it warm and comfortable as the other house she was familiar with. For a moment, she felt at peace with herself and the world as she stared across the rows of plantation in front of the porch. She didn't mind living here for the rest of her life. She was about to ask Wade if the owner would hire her but found that he had already entered the house without her.

Lugging their suitcases in, she took a curious look at the house's interior. It was well-kept. She loved the white-washed walls and full length windows; it reflected light into the house and gave its occupant an undisturbed view of the beautiful vineyard. As she turned around, she saw that the walls had various pictures of grapes, wine barrels and the likes. Some were paintings while some were beautifully cross-stitched pieces in frames. She was about to touch one of them when she heard Wade's footsteps behind her.

"Would you like to sleep on the couch or in my bed?" he asked. Amara was distracted by the cross-stitched piece that she didn't catch the joke in his sentence at first. "I'll take the... wait a minute. Is that a trick question?"

Even though she was laughing as she followed him to his room, she pondered over their bedroom issue. It was only natural for husband and wife to sleep in the same room right? Sure the sex was great but what they had would be a purely contractual relationship or was it? She wasn't sure anymore.

"So, where's this owner that has so graciously let you stay in this room?" she asked when they entered a spacious room with a king sized bed in the middle. "He or she is sure generous to provide you with such a big room."

Wade smiled as he sat on his bed. "Isn't he? He's really charming and witty too. Oh and did I mention handsome?"

Amara raised an eyebrow. "You can't be gay right? Don't tell me I'm marrying a bisexual man."

Wade gave a loud laugh and lay back on the bed, stretching out. "What do you think Darling? I didn't hear you complaining the other night."

"Complaining about what... oh," she replied, realizing what he meant. Trying to cover up for her sudden blush, she slumped herself on the bed beside him and gave a long sigh. "I doubt I'll be jealous of another man. Plus, we could share him."

Wade who had his eyes closed suddenly flared them open. He knew that she was joking but he was suddenly consumed by an uncontrolled bout of jealousy. How ridiculous! He rolled over and got on top of her, much to the surprise of both of them.

"I want only you," he growled fiercely before his lips pressed possessively over hers. The intensity of his kiss melted any protest that she was having at the moment. She wrapped her hands around his neck and felt her body respond to the heat of his body. It shocked her as to how much she desired him too.

When he finally pulled away from her, both of them were left gasping for air for a few seconds before their lips sought each other's again. As they deepened their kiss, her fingers impatiently began to unbutton his shirt, literally tearing the material away from his body. Wade pulled her up to a sitting position and helped her out of her blouse before reaching to unbuckle her bra. Their hands hungrily explored each other's bodies; hers fanning over his lean, taut body and his hands fondling her breasts.

"God, Wade... you make me so hot," she purred as his lips moved towards her neck, nipping her skin between his teeth gently.

A good hour later, Amara curled herself into Wade's embrace as they tried to catch their breath. She loved the way he smelled; no cologne could replicate the scent of a satiated man's pheromones. Correction: no cologne could replicate the scent of Wade's pheromones. His scent made her squirm with lustful thoughts. She smiled to herself as she trailed her fingers carelessly over his chest.

"Give me a minute to catch my breath," he commented with a laugh. "You're insatiable."

Amara grinned and looked up to examine his face. Without her realizing, his face had become one that she was becoming accustomed to seeing every day. He was starting to have a slight five o'clock shadow which she found really sexy, especially since it framed his lips perfectly.

"Wade, open your eyes please," she said.

"Why?"

"I want to look at them."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I can't see you," he protested.

"But I can see you and that's enough for me, for now," she replied, caressing his cheek gently, coaxing him to open his eyes. When his eyelids fluttered open, Amara found herself staring at the most intense pair of brown eyes she had ever seen. The rim of his iris was a deep brown but it lightened to a light hazel hue as it neared his pupil. To her, his eyes seemed perfectly normal.

"How badly impaired is your vision Wade?" she asked gently, caressing the undersides of his eye with her thumb. Wade smiled.

"I can sense light and I see various hues that light emits from people but other than that, I can't see anything. It's not a corneal problem but an injury on my optic nerve you see, so I can't capture an image well enough for the brain to process."

"I'm sorry Wade... It must have been hard for you," she whispered before planting a soft kiss on both his eyes. "But as I've promised, I'll get you the best doctors there are to help you see again."

Wade didn't say anything but simply closed his eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to escape his tear ducts.

"And when I can see again then what, Amara? Once the payment is done, does that mean this whole marriage thing can end?"

Amara pulled back in surprise.

"No! Of course not. Why do you say that?"

"This is our agreement isn't it? I lend you my last name to get that creep off your back and you provide me the resources to get my sight back. Once these two deeds are accomplished, we can go our separate ways right?"

Amara opened her mouth in shock. She couldn't believe this man. Did all the love-making and passionate kissing mean nothing to him? She narrowed her eyes angrily at him and entangled herself from his embrace. Throwing back the covers, she stormed furiously towards the adjoining bathroom.

Wade turned his face in the direction of her footsteps and slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, he caught sight of a sexy pair of buns sashaying, albeit angrily, away from him. He blinked a few times to assure himself that he wasn't imagining things but before he could take another look, the sound of his bathroom door slamming jolted his vision back into blurriness.

***

The next morning, Wade found Abigail setting up breakfast for him in dining room.

"I was surprised that you didn't call to let us know you're home, Sir," she said stiffly as she laid a plate of French toast in front of him. Wade knew that his sudden arrival home was not the problem. It was having Amara around that seemed to upset Abigail.

"You should make her some breakfast too Abigail. She's our guest... and she will soon be my wife," he said gently but with just enough authority to stop her from protesting.

Abigail didn't reply him but moved around a little more, plunking plates and glasses on the table before excusing herself to tend to the harvested grapes. Wade shook his head and bit into the toast. He knew Abigail well enough to know that she disapproved of Amara because she was well... not Cassie.




Apple of My Eye



Wade didn't like to think of Cassie much these few days. It made him feel like he was cheating on Amara and they weren't even married yet. He didn't want to compare them both and knew that it was an insult to Cassie's memory to try and replace her.

Did he love Cassie? Maybe; he wasn't sure anymore. Guilt, more than anything demanded that he should at least love her. Even though their marriage was meant to solidify the business partnership that their families had, Wade cared for her. He used to think that it should have been him who died instead of her in that car accident. All that youth and vitality wasted; where she had dreams, he had only bitter resentment towards his father for forcing him into the marriage and the running of the business.

Wade felt guilty to be alive and during the first years of his blindness following the accident, he had thought of nothing but death. He had stood over that cliff many times as Amara had, contemplating death but his wolf kept him alive; pushing him forward day after day.

And he was thankful for that; otherwise he wouldn't have met Amara. He smiled when he heard her footsteps walking towards him, her wet hair smelling of her usual tangerine shampoo.

"You brought your own toiletries?" he asked.

"Yes I did. It's better for me to use my own things so I will not disturb yours. I might place your shampoo or toothbrush wrongly and it would screw up your whole bathing routine."

Wade raised his eyebrow in appreciation and gestured for her to take a seat.

"Have some breakfast," he offered. Amara frowned as she looked at the table.

"You don't mean your scraps of toast do you? It's okay. I'll manage. So where is this cute owner? Your boss, I mean."

Wade almost choked on his tea. "Why?"

"I was wondering if he'd like to hire an extra pair of hands to work in his winery."

"You have no experience whatsoever."

"I'm a fast learner," she insisted. Wade could hear her heating oil in a pan. He had to get out of this sticky situation fast.

"You could always open up a private practice here," he suggested. "This whole wine business will make those beautiful hands of yours coarse and ugly."

He heard her give a long sigh before she replied. "I guess you're right. I wouldn't want to scratch you with my hands. I mean you should see my body right now. It has a million scratches from your coarse and ugly hands."

Wade knew that he was trapped now. His hands were smooth as a baby because he never worked the fields. He merely supervised the day to day operations.

"I'll talk to the owner for you once we're married. How about that?" he suggested instead. "Why don't you sit down here for now and tell me all about this Jason fellow."

Immediately he knew his plan had worked when he heard the clank of metal inside the sink.

"That jerk?" she asked as she settled in the chair beside him. "What do you want to know about him?"

"Maybe you can start by explaining why you still went after a married man."

The moment she started talking, Wade knew that she had kept all the anger, pain and sadness welled inside for much too long. She needed the release and at the moment, everything seemed to pour out of her like a broken dam.

"You make it sound like it was my fault... But I guess in a way it was. I saw the signs you know? The sudden important call he had to take outside; taking only his private, screen-tinted cars and booking flights and hotels under my name. At first I didn't mind... I was in love... or I thought I was and I forgave him. I believed all his excuses and all his lies. He's an A/P so I understand the whole discretion thing. It was only when I found that pig head outside my apartment did I know about the wife." She took a swallow of her eggs before continuing. "He told me they were getting a divorce and that she was obsessed with him and that's why she wouldn't let him go. Those were all lies of course. She's the daughter of one of the senators and his career was literally tied to hers. When I found out that he dissolved my police report against his wife, I understood then that his career stood before our relationship or me for that matter."

"Then why the whole wild goose chase?"

"Jason is the kind of man who doesn't like to lose. He was a hardcore prosecutor and he won many cases; put many people in jail. In a nutshell, he was the better liar, the better bullshitter in court. I suppose he didn't like having his woman walk out on him like that. It was him who had the right to decide when his flings would end, not the other way round."

"He hurt you..." said Wade under his breath but she heard him.

"He never laid a hand on me if that's what you mean," she replied. "But he was very possessive. He'd call me many times a day to make sure I was where I said I was. He'd check my phone on a daily basis and even went through my emails and such. He was paranoid that I was cheating on him. The biggest irony ever huh?" she asked with a laugh. "I don't know why I stayed on... maybe I thought it was a sign that he loved me. I don't know... I was always an advocate of working on problems and finding solutions. Relationships take a lot of effort and since he always found some flaw in me, I worked even harder to mend myself for our sake."

Wade could feel his temper rising but he kept calm as he sought for her knee and laid a hand gently on it. He considered himself someone protective but possessive? No. But at that moment he was sure he would snap that man's neck if he was right in front of him.

On the other hand, Amara was oblivious to Wade's change in mood and continued talking.

"It occurred to me that I never had any friends because he never approved of them. So I guess you're like my first real friend since I've gotten my life back. I'm grateful for that."

Wade was stunned for a moment. He hadn't heard that word for a very long time. He had left his friends and family behind; years ago when he decided to strike out on his own and heal on his own. He almost forgot what it was like to have a friend. Was what they had right now a friendship? Wade coaxed a smile. Friends sounded like a better status than business partners or contract lovers.

"Amara, whatever it is... I will never hurt you. Even if you drive me insane with your temper and foul mouth, I will never raise a hand at you or belittle you or hold you emotionally captive."

Amara raised her eyes to look at him and smiled. "As strange and insulting as that sounds, it is reassuring to me." She got up and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Mmm, it's kind of early for you to have a stubble already isn't it?" She turned his head left and right and mumbled to herself. "Sure it looks sexy as hell but I swear you were clean shaven when I came in the kitchen just now."

Wade tensed. It must be his wolf's natural reaction to the dropping temperatures. He wasn't just going to grow a lot of hair but he was going to get fat too. It's okay for a wolf but the excess blubber will literally boil him. He needed to go for a run right now.

"Will it be okay if you head down to Abigail's place and ask her to show you around the winery? I've got to uh do some uh exercise."

"I was about to say 'what exercise' when I realize you couldn't possible have that kind of body if you don't work out. Okay. Go do your manly things. I trust that you can take care of yourself because this is your home ground," she said cheerfully but Wade heard the hint of concern in her voice. He smiled secretly to himself before walking out the door.

The moment he shifted, his body felt wondrous. To be able to stretch and run and claw at various things on the ground made his wolf yelp with happiness. Suddenly Wade stopped moving. It just occurred to him that for the longest time, he was the dominant consciousness in their conjoined body. Was it possible that those sudden flashes of sight was due to his wolf trying to take over? Technically it was Wade in his human form who got blind... but his wolf...

You wanted to see her didn't you? Why? You never wanted anything before... Or were you trying to help me? She has a cute butt? That's what you wanted to see? You... you want me to let you take over for awhile? Umm... okay. I guess you deserve it since you let me see her cute butt too.

Wade felt himself letting go. He emptied his mind of all his worries, letting his wolf instinct take over to guide him through the woods. All of a sudden he felt like he was sitting inside a car, looking out from the glass window. His wolf had open its eyes, letting him see for the first time in ten years.

The coniferous trees were no longer green but Wade found their bare frame beautiful and magnificent in the warm glow of the morning sun. He didn't care anymore for the smell of the coming winter air or for the sounds of the birds chirping in the distance. He was hungry for more things to see and his wolf obliged.

It was only after a long run; hopping over rocks and puddles that he realized where they were.

She was simply god-sent; an angel in disguise. Her tall body was graced by a svelte figure that flared slightly at the hips. And her choppy hair that she thought was ugly suited her perfectly. He just wished that she would turn so he could see her face.

Unconsciously, he felt his body moving forward towards her.

No! What are you doing? She'll get scared!

A while later, Wade felt his bottom resting on the ground and he felt himself looking up at her, wagging his tail like a domesticated dog. To his surprise, she didn't recoil but looked down at the wolf curiously.

"Are you a wolf or are you a dog?" she asked. After pondering for awhile, she laughed, "You must be a husky. Such a good boy," she cooed, fluffing his fur. Wade heard his wolf give a satisfied whine. She was squatting down now, staring straight at him, rubbing her nose at his snout. Was this woman for real? Who kisses strange animals?

Suddenly the door flung open and Abigail came out, only to give a scream while pointing at Wade.

"What is that thing doing here!" Wade knew that she was directing the question at him.

"Oh, he's not yours?" asked Amara. "He must be a lost dog then. I don't suppose anyone's been looking for their Alaskan husky around here have they?"

Wade rolled his eyes. For a doctor, she really didn't know a lot of things.

"That is a wolf not a dog! Get away from her now!" said Abigail sternly but Wade felt his body still rooted stubbornly. In fact his wolf was growling at Abigail. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's okay Abigail. He doesn't mean any harm. Maybe he's injured. I'll take him back to the main house if that's alright with you?" Wade watched Abigail's face turn from a scowl to a look of pure shock before a smile sneaked at the corners of her lips.

"If she's not afraid of you then you should follow her," she whispered softly before closing her door.

Wade wanted to follow Amara but his wolf had other plans for it began walking away from her towards the woods once again. Wade protested and insisted but his wolf continued to ignore him until they reached the spot where he kept his clothes.

So that's it? I have to go back to being blind again? That's so unfair. What do you mean I should mate with her? Are you mental? She's not my mate... and definitely not yours.

***

Over the next few nights, Wade would make sure Amara was sound asleep before he shifted beside her just to see if his wolf would lend him its eyesight. However the mean spirited creature was stubborn and only gave him few seconds of viewing pleasure if he made love to Amara.

"Stop moving around so much Wade," said Amara sleepily as she turned to cuddle close to Wade. They had just had a round of fantastic sex and she was feeling rather loose-limbed and in the mood for cuddling. "You really ought to shave..." she said as she grabbed a handful of fur and tensed. Her eyes suddenly flared open and she backed away with a sharp scream.

"Oh my God... Wade! Wade!" she shrieked and jumped off the bed to search for Wade's body on the floor. When she didn't find him, she headed towards the door. Wade could scent her fear... but it wasn't for herself. She was fearful for him.

With a heavy heart, he shifted back into his human self and called out to her. Amara's eyes were as wide as saucers as she stared at Wade. Just a moment ago there was a wolf on her bed and now there's a man... there's a Wade. She didn't move from her position but backed herself until she felt the door behind her.

"So now you know..." said Wade, pulling his blankets up to his chin. Amara could hear the hurt in his voice. Letting part of her fear go, she tiptoed back to the bed and peered at him. "I know you're looking at me. Don't look at me like that!"

"It... it was you..." she muttered, climbing onto the bed.

"Yeah... it was me that day in front of Abigail's house."

Amara came closer and did an unexpected thing; she hugged him close, pressing his head against her chest. "No... I mean it was you who stopped me from jumping. I... Thank you," she whispered and kissed his forehead. Wade curled closer to her.

"You're not afraid?"

"No I'm not. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

***

December 2010

"So Mr. Spencer, are you intending to get married to Miss Winters to get a green card?" asked the officer.

Wade gave a laugh. "I have no intention of living here when I have my own property in England."

"I understand that you suffer from blindness due to an optic nerve injury. Were you intending to marry Miss Winters to benefit from her connections with the medical community?"

"Please, officer. That's just plain insulting. As you can see from my financial records I could have undergone a surgery any time I wanted but I didn't. Whether or not I choose to use her connections has nothing to do with me wanting to get married to her. We could just be friends and I'd still have those connections."

The officer nodded, scribbled something on his forms and then leaned back in his chair.

"Miss Winters must really love you to be willing to live with a blind man for the rest of her life."

Wade smiled. "I love her enough not to be a burden to her for the rest of her life. Is that all?"

"Yes. It seems all the papers are in order. Just wait here a moment."

Wade heard the officer get up from his chair and leave the room. Wade leaned back in his chair and shook his head. He couldn't believe that he just admitted that he loved Amara. It was the first time he had ever said it out loud...

Meanwhile, Amara was having a bit more trouble with her interviewing officer.

"Did you offer Mr. Spencer any forms of inducements to persuade him to marry you?"

"I... I wouldn't use the word inducements but I have told him that I know good doctors who can help him regain his eyesight."

"And do you think that's the reason why he's marrying you?"

"No! Of course not!" Amara heard the desperate tone in her voice and prayed that the officer would overlook it.

"Does he love you?"

Amara tried not to look away from the officer's gaze. God! She wished she was the blind one right now. Wade had never said he loved her... what if he said no to the other officer? She couldn't just lie right?

"I think it is enough that I love him... yes, even if he's blind. He is so much better than all the perfect men put together because he sees the world differently and with more compassion and attention than anyone else."

The officer didn't say anything but nod her head and pout her lips as she made some notations on her forms. After a long while, she looked up and smiled.

"Ok, Miss Winters. You may proceed to the marriage licensing counter."

Amara tottered out of the interview room and automatically searched for Wade. Unlike her, he was surprisingly calm. "You don't sound too good," he commented when she plopped next to him.

"She was a real Nazi I tell you. Grilled me like a squid."

Wade gave a chuckle and reached out to find her hand and linked it in his. "Now you've made me crave for seafood marinara." When she didn't reply, he gave her hand a squeeze. "You did great Darling. We're going to get married in a little while. You should be cheerful. You're the beautiful bride here."

Amara gave his hand a squeeze back and waited until their names were called.

The registrar read to them the meaning of marriage and told them to exchange their wedding vows and rings if they so wish before signing their marriage certificates. Amara picked a random wedding vow template from the list that the registrar handed her and began to read it. After a few lines she frowned.

"Wade, do you have any vows you want to say to me?" she asked instead.

"Ah, as a matter of fact I do."

"Crap. Then I'll just read this shit." The registrar cleared his throat and Amara mouthed a 'sorry' to him. "So blablabla... I promise to cherish and love you for as long as I live... blabla... promise to do my wifely duties to the best of my abilities blabla. Seriously... this is ridiculous," she said and shuffled the list back to the registrar. Turning to Wade, she held both his hands in hers.

"I want to say thank you Wade for being my first true friend and more to me. I will always be grateful to you and I'll take care of you as I've promised; even if I throw my temper around and annoy the hell out of you along the way. I promise to do my wifely duties every night for as many times as you want... Oops, sorry Sir. Didn't mean for you to hear that. Oh what? You mean he has to go first? Shit."

Wade was cackling with laughter. Only Amara could turn such a formal and serious affair into something so hilarious. Despite her rather unorthodox choice of words, he found them very reassuring and also very sincere. That was enough for him.

When the registrar told him it was his turn, Wade reached inside his pocket for the ring he had been waiting to give Amara and searched for her left hand. He could tell she was shocked for her hand tried to resist as he slipped the ring into her fourth finger.

"With this ring, I pledge my life to always protect and treasure you to the best of my abilities. Even without my sight, I know that you are beautiful inside and out. Your beauty captured my heart from the moment I met you and I know that you will continue to mesmerize me every day. Most importantly, you've never treated this poor, blind gardener with disdain nor pity and never once made me feel helpless. To that, I owe you my greatest gratitude. To me, you're the best thing that ever came into my life."

Amara was crying. She was touched by his words and felt awful for making a mess out of her own vows. Plus she was wearing a ring! She hadn't even thought of getting him one. Oh god, she was such an ass. As she wiped her tears, she was thankful that Wade couldn't see her horrible face at the moment. She was sure that she looked all red and blotchy.

They didn't say anything to each other as they signed their certificates and it was only when they got into a cab that she spoke.

"You shouldn't have gotten me a ring Wade..."

"Why not?"

"It must have cost you a bomb! I mean it. We're going to sell it back tomorrow. I refuse to accept anything from you."

Wade put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. "You should afford your husband these few little pleasures. That ring symbolizes that you're my wife and I want you to have it with all my sincerity."

"But Wade..." she protested and felt his fingers brushing gently over her lips to stop her.

"Don't worry about it. My financial statements are in the folder in your bag. You'll see that buying the ring would not make me a pauper."

She didn't respond this time but leaned her head on his chest. She was suddenly tired and feeling too emotional to argue with him. She'll just look over his papers later on. It wasn't important now.




Apple on a String



It was strange to think of an apple on a string, its pendular arch marking time with an audible swoosh. It bounced off faces as people tried to bite it, mocking as it bounced. Suddenly, I understood the fall, the moment of pure distraction when my sin became inevitable.

We met before secretly, in short, desperate moments where she could pull away from her husband. Once we slipped into a closet, where I pressed her against the wall, grinding my erection over her thigh. My hand slipped under her dress, and finding she wore no panties, my fingers immediately found her, slipping between her warm wet lips. She moaned as I slipped my wet fingers from her and massaged her clit in unison with the grinding of my hard cock on her thigh. I watched her face change as she gave into the sensation and came, soaking my fingers in her juices. Before we could do any more, she slipped away returning to her room and her husband.

Later, when we could meet again, she talked of a plan, a way to escape her husband for good. She needed my help, and in urgent whispers we scheduled a meeting during the party I was helping to prepare. She explained how important the timing was, how everything could backfire if the timing wasn't perfect. Together we agreed on the plan and then she silently kneeled down, and slowly unzipped my pants. I felt my cock quickly grow in anticipation.

She carefully work my erection out around my shorts immediately taking the head into her mouth with a fast sucking motion. I thought I would explode there right away, but I regained my composure as she released me from her mouth and slid her tongue down the length of my shaft, settling on my balls, Once again I felt the magnificent suction of her lips as she took one and then the next into her mouth, working her tongue around each orb.

I stood, with my back against the wall, my legs spread wide and arched my back, pressing my hips forward. She took my cock in her mouth again, stroking its length with a firm grip. The combination of the rough handling of her hand and the gentle slurp of her mouth nearly made me dizzy as I gasped for breath. I felt the pressure building inside me as she continued, increasing the intensity of the sucking and the stroking. I could hear wet slurping sounds coming from her mouth combined with a loud slapping as her fist wacked against the hilt of my cock.

"My balls, grab my balls too," I pleaded.

She rewarded me as she took her other hand and clasped both balls. As she worked my cock, she ever so slowly began to squeeze my balls. I felt the pleasure and pain well up in the root of me building like a sparkling light, multi-colored flashes circled me as I felt a touch of drool fall from my chin. I watched it splash on her shoulder as I splashed into her mouth in white hot spurts of come.

She took it all, holding me in her mouth, sucking lightly as she milked the last bit of sperm from my softening cock. She greedily swallowed it all, then stood up, stared directly into my eyes and whispered, "Until later." She quickly and silently slipped out the door and back into her other life, her life we were about to change. It would all happen at the party.

Throughout the party, she swung from one end of the room to the other, always in motion. As she glided, our eyes met, again and again and by the time she paused facing me, our plan was ready. We planned to meet at midnight. She told me of a quiet place, and then slipped away, curving across the room.

As the hour approached, I stepped outside and crept to the pool house. I stumbled a bit as I entered the dark room. I bent down and picked up what appeared to be a heavy bookend. I set it aside and felt a squish beneath my feet and before I could figure out what it was, I heard a voice.

"Right this way officer, I heard a noise." She sounded afraid.

Before I could move, the light flashed on and I saw her standing at the door with three police officers. I stood next to the body . . .

An apple on a string, the image was so clear as I felt the rope tightening at my neck. The clock ticked away to midnight and I remembered her mocking smile as the floor fell away with an audible swoosh.



Apple Pie



Chastity stood on the porch, head tipped back as she lifted the long curls from her neck. Lightly fanning herself she closed her eyes and breathed in the cooling night air. Having just stepped from the hot kitchen where she baked a dozen pies, she had a light sheen upon her flushed flesh. The cooling breeze felt delicious as it slide over her, even dressed as she was in a skimpy tank top and a pair of men's boxers she was hot, even had that air of "just fucked" look about her. Letting down her long curls she glanced down the block to the new neighbor that was moving in. Groaning softly, she watched the man continue to unload his truck. The man was built, sinewy muscles gleamed even in the fading light, tanned and full of brawn it made the inner hunger of her slutty nature spring to life. Grasping the hand rail of the porch she leaned forward, breasts unbound strained against her tank top, her gaze latched to every motion the man made. Tonight he had on no shirt and just a pair of cut offs. "Damn that man is hott, just what I need to sink my teeth into" she whispered to herself.

The scent of the cooling pies brought her out of her hypnotized watch on the man and a wicked idea sprang forth, immediately her nipples hardened at the thought and her cunt throbbed to life. "That's it, I will take him a pie and introduce myself. Just be the friendly neighbor girl" Turning she quickly entered the house, bent at the waist and flipped her hair over until it fell unrestricted to the ground, dragging her fingers through it, she gave it that tasseled look and tossed her head back, feeling the ends lash at the curve of her ass. Taking a quick glance in the mirror she didn't need any makeup, eyes were gleaming with excitement, which lent a glowing blush to her face. Taking a few steps, she grasped one of the cool pies, it wouldn't do to have a hot apple pie with what she had in mind.

Chastity watched him disappear into the house with the last box and close the door before she stepped up to the door. Taking a deep breath, she could feel the material of the tank top graze her already hardened nipples, causing her to whimper slightly. Closing her eyes she whispers quietly, "Calm down doll, you can do this" A wicked gleam shimmied in her gaze as she knocked on the door. Chastity could hear the footfalls of the man before the door opened. Fuckkk, He was better in person then from down the street, she thought. 

He smiled when he opened the door, a smile to melt the coolest of icebergs, warmth just shot through her like an arrow as he said hello. Stammering a bit she uttered in a quiet yet sultry voice, " I just thought I would introduce myself and bring you something to snack on". He smiled warmly once again and reached for the pie, just as she stepped forward. The collision of both bodies against each other had apple pie splattered and smeared all over their chests. Both Chastity and him started laughing before she whispered, "Here let me help you with that". Leaning forward, Chastity snaked her tongue along that gorgeous bare chest, teasing and tasting him along with the sweet cinnamonny taste of the pie. "Mmmmmm, delicious" she whispered as she pushed him back deliberately against the wall, her tongue never sliding from his chest as her fingers tugged down on the cut off shorts he had on.

The man took it all in stride, with a bit of surprised etched on His face, but he wasn't about to fight it. He gripped her hair, fingers twining within as she lowered to her knees. Chastity's mouth hungry against His flesh, lapping at it like a kitten at warm milk. When his cock sprang free, standing at a good 8 inches she just hovered her mouth over it with anticipation before swallowing it completely. Hot sweaty bodies melded, moans and scents of the two wafted in the air as the silhouette of a woman sucking a man's cock was seen from the open doorway. Having tasted him at last and sated the hunger she had she rose and winked at him. Reaching out to flick a nail over His chest and catch another glob of apple pie before striding out the door without leaving her name. 



Apple Pie



When Darrell woke up that Friday morning he had no idea how incredible his day was going to be. All he could do was drag up out of bed, take a shower, shave and get dressed. After making his bed he packed himself a lunch, walked out into the yard, grabbed the morning paper and then got in his car. Traffic was light, even for a Friday, so he got into work and parked in one of the closest parking spaces.

After entering the building he went to the elevators, which, immediately after he pushed the up button, dinged loudly and opened. He stepped inside and before anyone else walked into the elevator lobby, he pressed twelve and the doors closed. "Ah," he thought, "an express ride to the top." It was so much nicer than the herky-jerky stop and go rides he usually experienced on the elevator, stopping at nearly every floor.

He started up his computer and while it was booting up, he decided to head for the kitchen area and mix up some oatmeal for breakfast. Opening his box of instant oatmeal, he grabbed a packet and carried it to the kitchen where he would grab a styrofoam cup, fill it with the contents of the packet and get some hot water from the coffee machine. Just as he was about to open his oatmeal packet he saw it. At first he couldn't believe his eyes, but after rubbing them with his fists he looked again and there, in the vending machine was an apple pie.

Now in the ten years Darrell had worked at the company, the vending machine had provided a wide variety of wholesome snacks including trail mix, granola bars, and an occasionally almond joy bar, but in all those years it offered apple pie maybe twice. Suddenly, on the first Friday in August, Darrell looked at a single apple pie tucked into its slot in the vending machine.

He could feel his hands trembling as he reached into his pocket and pulled out one, two and then a third quarter. Carefully sliding them into the machine, he reached over and, holding his breath, pressed the numbers one, three and four. Feeling a frightening sensation roll though his body, he wondered what he might do if the machine didn't work, or even worse, if the pie got caught on something to tantalizingly dangle in front of him, but the machine worked and in just a moment he heard the pie hit the bottom of the vending machine.

Slipping his hand into the opening, he pulled out the pie, squeezed it slightly to confirm the fall had not shattered the firm but somehow still soft outer shell. Yes, the pie was completely intact. Holding the pie he turned and suddenly faced Katrina.

She didn't speak, but he watched her lips move silently saying, "The last apple pie."

Darrell smiled meekly and tried to move around the large woman. As he moved he noticed her eyes were transfixed on the apple pie. Stopping, he held it up and then moved it quickly to one side. Her head followed every move.

Slipping between Katrina and the vending machine, Darrell moved to the other side of the kitchen, but she slowly followed him, drooling slightly. She was focused on the apple pie and nothing else. He thought for a moment, and then had an idea.

"Katrina, what would you do for this apple pie?"

She remained silent but her lips moved, "Anything."

"Would you show me your breasts?" he said, flinching a bit, expecting to be clobbered.

The woman reached up to her blouse and unbuttoned it completely, exposing an industrial sized bra. It was an intricate device that apparently fastened in the front, because with a few deft movements with her fingers, she opened her bra, letting two monster breasts flop out.

Now, in the bar with friends, Darrell would go nuts over the thin, hot, sexy young women and pretty much ignore any woman with a bit of meat on her bones, but here, alone with this woman he could be himself. He may have acted like he lusted for those skinny women, but in reality he longed a bigger, curvier woman. Just the though of her soft folds of skin molding around his body was so exciting.

Just the sight of the two large breasts jiggling a bit as they flopped down on her large stomach sent a tingling through Darrell's balls. He backed up two steps and watched the woman's ample flesh juggle a bit as she followed. She was definitely in his power now, all he had to do was find the right place. Too heavy for a table, he looked at the counter and figured the cabinets were well constructed.

"Okay Katrina, I want you to undress completely," he instructed.

The woman nodded, and without moving her eyes from the apple pie, she pulled off her shoes, her pants, her huge panties and then stood, awaiting further instructions. Grabbing her hand, Darrell led her over to the counter, pushed the microwave to one side and the coffee machine to the other and said, "Okay, can you sit up on the cabinet."

It took some doing, but with her half stepping on a chair and Darrell pushing her from behind, his hands deliciously sinking into her soft ass, she got up on the counter. Darrell pushed her legs apart and then quickly pulled off his clothes, making sure the apple pie remained just out of the reach of the big woman. Once naked, he pulled the wrapper off the pie and moved up between her legs, wiggling his hips against her thighs to work his way in close.

He handed her the pie and slipped his fingers down to her pussy. Pushing two inside her, he noticed she was wet, very wet. Leaning forward, he guided his cock into that wet opening and felt it slide easily into her body. She took a slow bite as Darrell thrust deep into her and then as she chewed he slowly withdrew. He worked a rhythm, shoving his cock into her wet folds as she took a small bite out of the apple pie.

As he moved his cock in and out of her, he ran his hands all over her breasts and stomach, kneading her flesh, following the canyons between the folds of skin, lifting her breasts and sucking on the monstrous nipples. Glancing down he watched his cock disappear beneath her curly black hair and then reappear, pulling her pink lips out a bit. His cock glistened so under the kitchen lights as her juices covered him. He could also see the bits of crumbs fall from the apple pie, roll down her breasts, over her stomach to bounce off his stomach and get tangled in her pubic hair.

Feeling a surge of pleasure building in him, he watched as she took the last bite of the apple pie and moved his mouth to hers, shoved his tongue inside, just as he thrust his cock as deep as he could into her sopping cunt. He worked a tiny bit of the pie from off her tongue and slipped it back into his mouth, tasting the fruity taste as he came, releasing his cum into her pussy in spurt after spurt.

He pushed his tongue back into her mouth as began to moan loudly. He tasted the flavor of the pie from her teeth and tongue and then he felt her come. Her pussy squeezed on his cock, drawing it inward with each pulsation. He felt it again and again, slowly subsiding.

He pulled his head back letting the woman gasp for air as bits of the pie bounced down between them. Darrell pulled out his cock and looked down between her legs, spotting a big crumb, nestled in the wet curls of her hair. Kneeling down, he slipped his tongue in through the curls and carefully worked the crumb out and into his mouth. As he kneeled, he could see the white frothy mixture of their cum oozing out of her pussy down over another crumb, coating it entirely.

He grabbed the crumb covered in their cream in his fingers and stood up, holding it to her mouth. She stuck out her tongue and let him place the delicacy on it. Instead of sucking it into her mouth, she grabbed his head and pulled him to her, and they united in an open mouthed kiss, sharing the cum-covered bit of apple pie.

It was only then that Katrina seemed to snap out of her trance, "What the hell..." and then seeing exactly what had happened she said, "Oh my Darrell, I didn't know you had it in you. We better get cleaned up and dressed before anyone else gets in."

Darrell helped her down from the counter and they quickly dressed. Grabbing some paper towels, they mopped up the pool of their cum that had accumulated on the counter top and then slid the microwave and coffee pot over the, still damp, counter. Just as they were heading out of the kitchen another woman walked in. She looked at the vending machine and then exclaimed, "Oh damn, the last apple pie is gone."

Darrell and Katrina walked out of the kitchen hoping the woman didn't hear them giggling.



Apple Pie



Marie, young and single. Vivacious and pretty. Reasonably intelligent and now, thanks to an unexpected inheritance, finally striking out to live on her own. 

With the help of her inheritance, Marie had purchased a small house in the suburbs, close enough to public transport to allow an easy commute to work and also in fairly close proximity to quite a nice beach.

Marie quickly started to make friends around the neighbourhood, getting acquainted with young mothers in the area as well as single women. Boyfriends had never been a problem, she didn't need to go looking for them. She might have had to beat the undesirables off with a stick occasionally, but she could always find a partner willing to take her out. 

One of Marie's hobbies was cooking, baking in particular. She loved making pies and cakes and was quite good at it. When one of the mothers she had become acquainted with suggested that Marie might like to do a couple of pies or cakes for the local school fete, Marie agreed at once.

The fete was on the coming Sunday, and Marie had agreed to have two apple pies delivered to her friend's place on Saturday evening. The disaster that befell her on Saturday morning wasn't really her fault.

She had been warned when she moved in that the oven was sometimes faulty. It had an intermittent fault that caused it to fail to switch off at the programmed time. The problem had not occurred since she'd been there and Marie had almost forgotten about it.

The problem brought itself forcibly to her attention when she got back from going shopping. She had stayed at the shops a lot longer than intended, chatting and enjoying a cup of coffee with friends. Walking into her kitchen, the smell of burnt pie promptly assailed her.

Horrified, Marie had rushed to the stove to find it still full on, having decided that this was the time it would ignore the programmed off time. Marie was quite sure that it was deliberate. The stove had seen her go out and deliberately decided to be perverse.

Whatever the reason, Marie now had two charcoal pies in place of the apple pies she'd expected. She sighed and started over, after first ventilating the kitchen to get rid of that burning smell.

Marie promptly hit an unexpected snag. The pastry was no problem but she had no more apples. She was preparing to go down the street to get some more when a vague memory nudged her. She recalled that when looking the place over she had noticed the place next door had a couple of fruit trees in their backyard, and she was certain that one of them was an apple tree, and cooking apples at that.

Going outside and checking, Marie found that she was correct. The tree nearest her place was an apple tree and it currently appeared to have quite a bit of ripe fruit on it. 

For some reason or other, Marie had never got around to meeting that particular neighbour. She'd dropped by to introduce herself, but the man hadn't been home. She did recall, from talking with other people in the street, that he was never home on Saturday afternoons. He always went to watch the football.

Choices, she mused. She could waste an hour going down to the shops and buying more apples or she could jump the fence, pick enough for the pies and hop back over the fence. There were so much fruit on the tree that the man would never notice she'd raided it.

Marie was fit and healthy. She grabbed a bag and it was the work of a moment to jump the fence and only another moment to climb the tree. Happily she set to work to select enough apples for the pies.

With the abundance of ripe apples on the tree Marie didn't need long to fill her bag. She was preparing to descend when a voice spoke from below.

"You know," she was told, "a pretty young woman shouldn't really climb apple trees wearing short skirts."

Horrified, Marie looked down to see a man standing under the tree and looking up at her with interest. Her heart quailed for a moment, trying frantically to remember if she was wearing a thong that day. Relief came as she recalled what panties she was wearing, but still that man could undoubtedly see them clearly. A gentleman, she decided, would have looked away, not continued to stare and smirk.

"Pass me the apples. It'll make it easier for you to descend."

Reluctantly, but realising the suggestion made sense, Marie passed down the bag and then followed it quickly.

"I'm Paul. This is my place. And you are?"

"Ah, I'm Marie. I'm your new neighbour," Marie told him, pointing to her place. "You're supposed to be at the football."

"Really? Remiss of me. Maybe it's because the season finished last week. So, would you care to tell me why you're here stealing apples? Not that I begrudge you the apples, I've far too many. As far as I'm concerned you can have as many as you like."

"I promised I'd make two apple pies for the school fete tomorrow," Marie said quickly. "Unfortunately, I burnt them and I had no more apples. I thought you wouldn't miss a few."

"And I'm sure I won't miss them either. You're not too good a cook, I take it. Do you think you'll be back for another lot?"

"It wasn't my fault they burnt," stated Marie hotly. "The stupid oven timer is defective and didn't switch off. I'd forgotten it does that sometimes."

"Uh-huh. If you say so. Well, in a second you can take your apples and have another attempt at baking your pies. First though, I think a little penalty is called for in your rudeness in sneaking in and stealing the apples instead of just asking."

"What do you mean, a penalty? You just said you had so many you'd never miss them," protested Marie.

"And neither I will. But good manners dictate that you should have at least asked. Bad manners, on the other hand, should always have a penalty, or people just won't learn the correct thing, now will they? Don't worry. It won't be anything too onerous."

Marie glared at Paul, not trusting his smiling face one iota.

"We might have different ideas about that. What do you intend doing?"

"Well, it's a nice warm day, bright sunshine, pleasant garden and a nice bench here between the trees. I thought I'd just sit on the bench for a few minutes and enjoy nature while I paddle your backside to remind you of your manners."

"What?"

"I said, it's a nice..." Paul started, but Marie interrupted.

"I heard, I heard," she squeaked, flapping her hands at him. "What on earth makes you think I'll let you spank me?"

"How about the fact that you shouldn't have been here stealing apples in the first place? I'm quite sure you wouldn't want me letting that little story get out. It could place you in a bad light, now couldn't it?" said Paul, letting a touch of coldness creep into his voice.

Marie blinked.

"You're angry, aren't you?" she said, finally seeming to realise that Paul wasn't exactly dancing with joy over her little escapade.

"Not angry, but definitely displeased," murmured Paul. 

Placing one hand on Marie's back he started walking towards the bench. Marie realised that she had to either accompany him or kick up a fuss. She gulped and went with him. He wouldn't do much, she assured herself. A few smacks on the bottom and that would be that. She could handle that.

Paul sat on the bench and directed a nervous Marie across his knee. She was still assuring herself that it would be all right, a few quick spanks and done, when she felt her skirt lifted away from her bottom and her panties were quickly pulled down.

"Wait," she shrieked. "What are you doing? You can't...."

Anything else Marie cared to say was lost as a hand came down firmly on her bare bottom and she squealed in shock and indignation. To her chagrin, Marie found that quick spank was followed by a few more, and they weren't just the mildly disapproving smacks that she'd envisaged but proper spanks, and they smarted.

Squealing her outrage, Marie kicked and wriggled, trying to put a stop to the outrage. Kicking, she quickly found, was a bad mistake. It exposed her pussy when her legs were flying back and forth and Paul had been quick to take advantage.

A spank came down and landed quite firmly on her mound. There was an instant apology from Paul, stating that had been unintentional. Unintentional my eye, Marie thought. He hadn't just slapped her pussy but very neatly cupped it when he did so, and you don't do that by accident.

"Enough," she yelled. "Will you damn well stop it? I've got the message already."

"Are you sure?" Paul asked, sounding genuinely interested, but not stopping while he waited for the answer, Marie noticed.

"Yes," she cried. "I'll admit I should have asked and I'm sorry I didn't. Are you satisfied?"

"Apology accepted," murmured Paul, swinging her back onto her feet.

Marie hastily pulled up her panties, glaring at him.

"You're an animal," she raged at him. "A bully and a brute. I suppose I should consider myself lucky you didn't ravish me as well."

"I did consider it," admitted Paul, "but I thought it would be the height of bad manners and a little bit hypocritical seeing I was teaching you a lesson for bad manners. However, seeing you've brought the subject up..."

To Marie's surprise he reached up her skirt and her panties went sliding down again. Lifting her skirt he thoughtfully considered her naked pussy, then looked up at her.

"Very nice indeed," he told her. "I have to admit that you look eminently ravishable. Where would you like me to do it?"

Marie again hastily pulled up her panties and brushed her skirt back into place.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "Where would I like you to do what?"

"Ravish you," said Paul with a sigh. "You obviously think I should, so I'm only too happy to oblige, but I wasn't sure where you'd like it to take place. I don't know your preferences yet.

I was thinking my first choice would be to lay you on the grass just over there so we could enjoy the sunshine while the ravishment takes place, but it occurred to me you might prefer me to bend you over the bench and have me take you right here.

Oh, and I'd prefer to strip you naked before the ravishment, as I think it'd be more fun that way."

"You're mad," stated Marie. "Quite mad. Why don't you just take me inside and drag me into your bedroom?"

Paul shook his head. 

"I considered that," he said, "but that would make it look as though you were agreeing and that just makes it a seduction rather than a ravishment, so that won't do. No, it'll be much more fun out here in the open."

To Marie's astonishment Paul reached for the side of her skirt and flicked open the button and gave the skirt a tug. She snatched for it as it slid down, only to find Paul's hand in the way as her panties went down for a third time.

"What do you think you're doing?" she squealed, irritation and indignation flaring.

"I just told you," came the reply. "I'm stripping you naked before your ravishment. Lift your arms."

It wasn't a case of her lifting her arms so much as having them forcibly lifted by having her top pulled up and over her head. A stunned Marie now found herself with skirt and panties pooled around her ankles and her top on the bench next to Paul.

"You may find it's a good idea to step out of your skirt and panties," Paul said as he reached around to undo her bra.

"Why?" asked Marie, not believing this was happening. All she'd wanted was a few apples and now she was standing naked in front of her previously unknown neighbour. How had this happened?

"If you change your mind about being ravished they'd trip you up when you try to run," pointed out Paul. "I'm just thinking of your safety."

Marie watched as he reached down, lifted her foot slightly and freed it from the tangled clothes. The second foot followed and Marie found herself naked.

"Come over here," Paul directed, leading her towards the grassy sunlit stretch he'd indicated earlier.

Marie went with him, unsure about how far he was actually going to push this. She thought he'd already pushed it too far taking her clothes off, but it was oddly exciting the matter of fact way he seemed to assume that he had the right to do so.

Paul, it seemed, was going to push it quite a bit farther than Marie had expected. Quite how it happened, she wasn't sure, but she found herself lying on the grass with Paul next to her, a hand on her breast, playing with it.

When his hand drifted down and covered her mound, Marie decided that enough was enough. If Paul wasn't going to call a halt, she would.

"OK, I think that's far enough," Marie told him, trying to push his hand away from where it was doing sinfully delicious things to her. "Let me up, please."

Paul ignored her, transferring his attentions back to her breasts, bending over her and suckling gently, teasing the nipple while he did so.

This time Marie managed to get a handful of hair and pull at it, while telling Paul to quit doing that. His answer was to roll over on top of her, settling between her thighs, and Marie was shocked yet again to find that Paul had found time to shed his trousers.

"You can't do that," she said, her voice breaking with a gasp as Paul demonstrated quite conclusively that he could indeed do that. His erection slotted into her gap as though coming home, and Paul was not backward about advancing fully into her.

Marie lay there, not knowing what to say or do. It appeared that when Paul said ravishment, he meant exactly that. 

Pressing full length along Marie, Paul started dropping little butterfly kisses on her face, running down the line of her throat and finally settling on her breasts. Moving from breast to breast, Paul patiently fanned them into eager life, while remaining surprisingly still where the use of his cock was concerned.

Marie twisted under the little kisses, finding out just how sensitive her breasts were to male attention. Meanwhile she was acutely aware of his cock inside her, just holding her transfixed.

Vaguely puzzled as to why he hadn't actually started the serious work of ravishing her, Marie was twisting slowly from side to side as Paul switched from one breast to the other. His mouth and teeth were causing strange sensation to start rippling through her, but the strangest sensation was his cock, just filling her, seeming to swell inside of her but otherwise just holding her down.

Watching Marie's face, Paul could see frustration growing there. It might be ravishment, but she was expecting it to proceed and it wasn't happening.

Marie had gone from nervous to scared, scared to angry, angry to excited and was now moving from excited back to angry. What did Paul think he was doing? If he was ravishing her he shouldn't just be lying there while his cock just sat in her like a big fat sausage, doing nothing. Irritated, Marie pressed her hips up against him, hinting that he should get on with the job.

She was gratified to find the pressure instantly returned. Not so pleased that when she relaxed to let him have his way, Paul relaxed as well, seemingly content to just fill her. Irritably, Marie pushed up against him again, feeling him respond. This time she didn't stop, but after relaxing a little pressed firmly up again.

I'm conducting my own ravishment, was the thought that crossed her bemused mind. Paul was making her do all the running, just matching what she did. The thought faded away again as desire moved through her. The feeling of Paul pressing into her was exciting her, and Marie found herself pushing against him steadily, finding a nice smooth rhythm, not too fast, not too slow.

Exactly when the situation changed, Marie did not know. It seemed to her that one moment she was moving dreamily under Paul, relishing the gentle movements of his cock inside her, then the next moment she was being ravished strongly by Paul, his cock no longer gently pressing but pounding out instructions to her.

Those instructions, Marie found, could not be gainsaid. Her body leapt to obey them, eager to take direction. She wanted to be mastered, she found, and Paul was now attending to that want, as to a large number of others that her body was suddenly craving.

The action had now taken on a vigorous intensity as Paul repeatedly drove himself into Marie. Marie's frantic attempts to meet him resulted in her lifting her bottom high off the ground as she thrust up to meet him, sinking reluctantly back down as Paul withdrew, preparatory to another stroke. 

"Oh, god, I'm going to come," thought Marie, gasping as she concentrated her efforts on meeting Paul. 

"Oh, God," she screamed, as she felt the climax rushing upon her. 

Then she was just screaming, or trying to, as she found Paul's mouth covering hers, swallowing her screams while her body swallowed his cum. Vaguely she could feel the hot liquid foaming inside her as she shuddered though her climax, holding tightly to Paul who was hammering her remorselessly.

Lying there, drifting back to awareness, Marie became aware of Paul lying next to her, watching her.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"You asked me to," pointed out Paul.

"What?" Marie sat bolt upright, noting with satisfaction that Paul's eyes seemed almost hypnotically drawn to her breasts as they bounced under her sudden movement. "I did no such thing."

"Of course you did. I realised what you wanted as soon as you mentioned me ravishing you. You couldn't very well ask me to, but I can accept a hint."

Marie was speechless. She had a nasty suspicion that anything she said, Paul would promptly twist. She'd wind up finding out that she'd ravished his defenceless body before he was finished.

"May I have the apples and go now?" she asked, trying desperately to project an aura of quiet dignity.

"Certainly," said Paul, "but you may want to get dressed first."

"Did you mean it when you said I can get apples any time from now on?" Marie probed.

"I did. There's far too many for me. I usually have a couple of the mothers from the school come by and pick them for apple pies for the school fete, but they've moved since last year."

Marie gave him a nasty look at that comment, but continued.

"There'll be no penalties such as a spanking or anything else?" 

Some things, Marie felt, were better spelt out clearly.

"Of course not. I've said come and help yourself at any time and I meant it. I couldn't very well spank you for accepting a freely given invitation. But don't let it worry you. I'm sure I'll be able to find some other reason to spank you."

"And I don't need any reason to ravish you," he added quietly. 

Quietly enough that Marie chose not to hear it. She quietly reached for her clothes. The pies had to be finished, after all.



Applebee Publishing



Applebee Publishing was a small but well established publishing firm. Winston Applebee, the owner and president, was a shrewd businessman who had a good eye for young talented authors. He would sign them to long term contracts that would more than pay for themselves when the author had a best seller. In fact on the current New York Times bestseller list, three of the top ten best sellers were Applebee publications.

Michael O'Grady worked at Applebee Publishing for the past five years. He loved working there and he loved old man Applebee. He was a great boss. He was always walking around the office joking and laughing with his employees. He let them work flexible schedules, wear casual clothes on Fridays, and there were always fresh coffee and donuts in the break room.

Michael was in his mid twenties. He was short and slim in stature barely measuring 5'5" tall. He had sandy brown hair and had been told more than once he looked liked Michael J. Cox. Like most young men his age, he spent much of his spare time pursuing the opposite sex with his buddies in various bars and clubs.

He arrived for work on Monday morning and saw a message on his computer screen that there was a staff meeting. He walked into the break room and saw his co-workers assembled and Mr. Applebee standing in front of the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen" he began. "I am announcing to you today that I am retiring as president of Applebee Publishing effective this Friday. I am turning over the reigns of the company to my daughter Dana. I am confident that she will continue the fine traditions and standards that I have always strived for."

Everyone looked stunned as they filed out of the room. Mr. Applebee came up to Michael and asked him to step in his office for a minute. Michael followed him into his private office. 

"Michael, I just wanted you to know I appreciate the hard work you have done for me and I know my daughter will find you a valuable asset." 

He walked to the fully stocked bar in the corner of his office and reached underneath and came up with an unopened bottle of Makers Mark single barrel bourbon. He took two glasses and filled then with several good belts. He handed a glass to Michael.

"Here's to my retirement and to your future my boy." He reached over, clinked his glass to Michael's and then lifted the glass to his mouth and drained it in one gulp. Michael took a little sip and the old man laughed. "Drink it down son, drink it down."

He finished the drink, thanked Mr. Applebee, and returned to his desk. He thought about Dana Applebee. He had seen her picture on the old man's desk and she was stunning. She had dark hair and was tall. He couldn't tell much about her body from the picture but it looked like she had a great figure. He remembered she lived in Los Angeles and worked for a rival publisher.

The rest of the week flew by and on Friday they had a hastily arranged retirement party for the boss. Michael expected to see Dana there but she was conspicuously absent. Mr. Applebee explained that she was tying up some loose ends and would be arriving Sunday and be at work on Monday. The party ended with a tearful speech from the old man followed by kisses and hugs from his "family" as he always referred to his employees.

On Monday morning the staff assembled in the break room to meet Dana Applebee. She walked in coolly and stood in front of the room. She was wearing her long hair tied up in the back; she had on dark rimmed glasses, a charcoal grey business suit, and did not appear to be wearing any makeup. Still she looked very much a woman.

She began by saying that she reviewed the company records and she had some ideas to increase profits. She continued to say that there would be some changes made and they would all be notified about them shortly. She ended the meeting by asking Ed Dolan, the office manager, to come to her office.

Ed was in her closed-door office for about an hour. When he emerged he was red faced and went straight to his office. About an hour later all employees received an email outlining changes that were effective immediately. It read as follows.

All employees are now on a fixed schedule from 8 AM to 4:30 PM. Flextime is no longer permitted.

Lunch hour is now 30 minutes instead of 60 and is unpaid.

There are no smoking or bathroom breaks permitted except during lunch or the 10-minute morning break.

The list went on and on. Every perk the old man had given them was gone. As people read it they rushed over to Ed Dolan to complain that it was bullshit. He just shook his head and said there was nothing he could do. Dana made it clear that anyone who did not comply would be let go.

The mood in the office was somber the rest of the week. On Thursday, Michael was sitting at his desk trying to finish up the project he was working on. It was almost 5 PM and everyone had left at 4:30. He felt a presence behind him and turned to see a beautiful longhaired woman in a slinky black cocktail dress and long black high heels. It took a minute for him to realize it was Dana Applebee. He could not believe how amazingly sexy she looked.

She spoke to him. "Oh good you're still here. I have to go to an opening of an art gallery. There is a manuscript on my desk that needs to be read and summarized by tomorrow morning. I will expect your notes on my desk by 7 AM." She turned and walked toward the door, her high heels making her hips swing back and forth as she walked.

What nerve he thought. His first reaction was to run after her and tell her to fuck off. But he needed the job and thought better of it. He got up from his desk and walked into her office. The old man's desk, which had been covered in photos, was empty except for a phone, a small gold box, a lighter, and the manuscript he was to work on.

He walked over to the bar and saw the bottle of bourbon the old man had opened for him a few weeks ago. He took a glass and filled it almost to the top. Then he walked back to her desk and sat in her chair. He opened the small gold box and it contained unfiltered French cigarettes. He took one and lit it and almost choked, damn they were strong. He put his feet up on her desk and finished his drink.

He was about to leave when he noticed a door. He had heard the old man had a private bathroom but had never seen it. He opened the door and stepped inside flicking on the light. The door closed behind him. It was hot and steamy. There was a large walk-in shower that she had obviously just used. There were wet towels on the floor and the vanity had various opened jars and tubes of cosmetics. What he didn't notice was the little black handbag on the shelf over the sink.

The alcohol and tobacco must have stimulated his bowel. He felt the urge to go and started to leave and head for the employee men's room on the other side of the office. The he stopped. No one would know if he used her bathroom. Besides, she was the one making him work late.

He undid his pants and sat down on the toilet. He had a habit of lightly scratching his balls while he was on the toilet. It seemed to provide stimulation for his bowels to open. He then took a huge shit in her toilet. When he was finished he reached for the toilet paper. A length of it flew out in his hand then broke off. He looked at the empty cardboard roll spinning on the holder. Oh well he thought, this should be enough. He wiped himself and tossed the paper on top of the big dump he just unloaded.

His eye then caught something on the floor. It was black and shiny. He reached down and picked up the silky material. Then he realized what it was. It was the panties she had been wearing all day before she changed into the cocktail dress. He held them up. They were damp. His cock began to get hard. He pressed the crotch to his face and inhaled. Her pussy smelled so good. His hand moved down to his now fully hard cock and began to stroke it while he continued to sniff her panties.

He was about to shoot his load when the door flew open. Standing in the doorway with a look of surprise on her face was Dana Applebee. "I forgot my bag "she stammered. But then her look of surprise turned to anger when she realized what he was doing.

"What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom!" she shouted.

"What the fuck are you doing sniffing my panties and jerking your pathetic little pecker!" She was shrieking now.

She walked over to him and grabbed the panties from him and threw them on the counter. Then she got a whiff of what he left in the toilet and went berserk. She pushed him hard with both hands. "Get the fuck off my toilet you little prick!'

He fell on the floor. She looked down at the toilet. "How dare you take a shit in my toilet you little mother fucker!" She raised her high-heeled foot and he flinched thinking she was going to spike him. But instead she turned and put her foot on the handle and flushed the toilet.

She seemed to calm down. "I have to pee," she said. He watched as she raised her dress to her waist and sat down on the toilet. She had on a black garter belt and stockings with no panties. She spread her legs apart and he watched her golden pee flow from her pussy lips into the toilet. Her calm ended when she reached for the toilet paper and came up empty.

"You goddamn son of a bitch. You used the last of the toilet paper you little cocksucker." She got up. He was still lying on the floor. She slipped her dress over her head. She had no bra on and was naked except for the garter belt and stockings.

"Since you used the last of the toilet paper, you will have to use your tongue to wipe my pussy." With that she squatted over him and planted her pussy on his face.

"Lick it you little bitch. Clean my pussy and make me come."

He was still hard and reached down to stroke his cock while he gave her a good tongue-lashing. She had so much pussy juice flowing he forgot all about the remnants of her pee he was licking. She began to gyrate harder and kept calling him filthy names. He though he was going suffocate when she came. She pushed down hard and let out an incredible groan. He had never seen a woman cum that hard.

She stood up and told him to sit on the toilet. She then straddled him and slid her soaking twat onto his hard cock. She rode him hard and fast. She told him he better make her cum again and he better not cum in her or he would be very sorry. She again called him filthy names that seemed to make her even hotter. He almost lost his seed when she pushed his cock all the way into her pussy. He could feel her spasm as she came hard again.

She got off him, took the panties he had been sniffing, and shoved them in his face.

"Now finish yourself off," she commanded.

He grabbed his cock and it took only a few strokes for him to spurt all over his shirt and silk tie that he was still wearing.

She retrieved her dress and put it back on. She went to the mirror and fixed her hair. She picked up the little black handbag she had forgotten and turned to leave. She stopped to look at him. He was still sitting on the toilet in a daze.

"This bathroom is a fucking mess. Clean it up before I get in here tomorrow morning. And don't forget to put on a new roll of toilet paper." When she got to the door she said "and don't forget that manuscript on my desk. That was the reason you came into my office, wasn't it?"

Michael spent the next two hours cleaning her bathroom from top to bottom. He found a supply closet that had cleaning materials, towels, and thankfully toilet paper. He scrubbed the toilet, sink, and shower, mopped the floor, carefully put the caps back on her makeup and placed them in the cabinet. Finally he dumped the wet towels in the bin in the closet, hung clean towels on the rack, and placed a new roll of toilet paper on the spindle.

He turned off the light as he left the bathroom. All he could think about was going home and showering and going to bed. Then he saw the manuscript still on her desk. Fuck he thought, this is going to take me hours. And hours it did. It took him five hours to read it and two hours to type up his notes. When he finished it was three AM. He could barely keep his eyes open. He shut them for a second to rest before heading home.

He was awakened by the phone ringing. He opened his eyes. He was still at work. He had fallen asleep at his desk. He looked at the clock. Shit, it was 7 AM. He picked up the phone and it was Dana.

"Come to my office and bring the manuscript" was all she said.

He knocked on her door and she told him to come in. She was dressed in her work outfit, suit, glasses, hair in bun, and no makeup. He handed her the manuscript and his notes. Dana got up and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on her credenza. She didn't offer him one. Then she lit a cigarette and proceeded to read his summary stopping to take a drag on her cigarette or sip her coffee.

When she finished she looked at him and gave him an expressionless nod. He actually had done an excellent job but she wasn't going to tell him that. Then she got up and opened the bathroom door for inspection. She turned on the light. Dana smiled slightly to herself. The little fuck actually did a better job than the cleaning man.

She walked back to her desk and looked at him. God did he look pathetic. His hair was a mess; his shirt was hanging out and had his cum stains on it. His silk tie was ruined from the jism stains. He looked like a poor little boy. She almost felt sorry for him.

"You look like shit," she told him. "Go home and get some sleep. Be back here at 4 PM. I have another assignment for you."

Michael went home, took off his clothes and collapsed on the bed. He slept until 2 PM, got up, took a long hot shower, and got dressed. By 3 PM he was out the door. He hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday and was ravenous. He stopped at a diner and ordered two jumbo burgers with everything, French fries, and onion rings.

He arrived at his desk at 4 PM. He got a few strange looks from his co-workers but no one asked why he was coming in so late. On his desk was a manuscript. A note was stuck to it. It simply said "finish this by 9 PM."

It was smaller than the one last night but finishing it by 9 would be tough. He got to work and was just finishing typing his notes when his phone rang. He looked at the clock, 9 PM. The jumbo burgers were growling in his stomach. He had hoped to have time to hit the men's room before she called. He picked up the phone.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes" he replied.

"Bring it to me."

He walked to Dana's office and knocked. She opened the door and motioned him in telling to sit in the chair in front of her desk. She went to the bar and poured two large glasses of bourbon. She placed one on the table next to him. Then she lit two cigarettes and handed one to him. She sat on the edge of her desk studying him. They both smoked and sipped their drinks in silence.

Finally Dana spoke. "I don't think you were properly punished for the nasty shit you took in my bathroom last night. Not to mention jerking off while sniffing my panties."

"I'm sorry" blurted Michael. "I swear it will never ever happen again."

"OK if you are truly sorry you will do what I tell you for the next few hours, no protesting, no arguing, agreed? If you agree I will forget about this and never mention it again"

He thought about it for a second. He had actually enjoyed most of last night. What could she do to him that was so bad? "OK I agree. What do I have to do?"

"Remove your clothes and hand them to me."

Michael took off his shirt, tie, shoes, pants, and socks and handed them to her.

"Underwear too" she said holding out her hand. He slipped his shorts off and stood naked before her. She took his clothes and locked them in her closet. "If you want to see your clothes again you must do everything I say."

Dana then removed her suit jacket, blouse, and skirt. She had on a red bra, matching thong panties, and a red garter belt and stockings. She removed her glasses and shook down her hair. She removed a harness of some sort from her drawer and strapped it around her waist and under her crotch. It had a circle on the front with a small prong sticking out.

"Do you know what this is for?" she asked. He shook his head no.

She pulled out a large dildo from her drawer. "See this dildo"? It fits right on this prong here." She snapped the dildo into place. It jutted out at least 8 inches in front of her.

"As your punishment, I am going to fuck your ass with this. But first I am going to clean you out. I don't want you getting shit all over my dildo."

He started to protest but she quickly reminded him of their agreement. She unbuckled the harness, placed it on her desk and led him into her bathroom. She had a rubber hose bag hanging from a hook on the wall. She took it down and filled it with warm soapy water. She told him to get on the floor on his hands and knees.

She traced a finger around his anus. He felt something cool squirt on it. Then he felt her finger pressing in his tight hole. It slipped in fairly easy. It actually felt kind of good. Maybe this wont be so bad he thought. 

Dana removed her finger and he felt something larger try to part his asshole. Relax she told him. She continued to ease the nozzle in until it was a good six inches up his ass. He felt the tremendous need to shit. Then she got up and opened the valve. He felt the warm, soapy water flow into his bowels.

"I don't think I can do this," he told her. "I really have to go."

"Stay there and be quiet. Don't touch anything. I will be right back."

She went to her office and lit another cigarette and poured another drink. She came back in and sat on the toilet. She removed her red panties and started to pee. He watched as she peed. She caught him looking and placed her panties over his head. Man did he look silly with the nozzle up his ass and her underwear on his head. She almost started laughing. She checked the bag and it was empty. She gave the nozzle a few good thrusts in his ass for good measure then removed it.

"Let me go now, please I am begging you." Michael cried.

"Not yet" was all she replied.

Finally after a few minutes that seemed like hours she got off the toilet and helped him on it. The first sound she heard was the water pissing out of his ass. This was followed by several enormous blasts as the digested jumbo burgers were sent to a watery grave.

When he finished she told him to get in the shower. She sprayed the hand held shower wand on his ass. She instructed him to soap up his fingers and stick them in his ass to clean it.

She dried him off and led him back into her office. She strapped the harness back on and told him to lie in the chair on his back with his legs spread wide over the arms of the chair. She applied some lube to his ass and to the fake cock. He looked closely at it. There was no way she was going to get that all the way up his ass.

She rubbed his cock gently as she eased the big rubber dong up his ass. It went in about an inch and stopped. She kept pushing slowly as Michael let out a loud yelp. All of a sudden it slid in a few more inches.

"Yeow" he cried. "That hurts."

"Shhhhhh" she said. She kept pushing until the big cock was all the way up his ass. He was in pain but it also felt good. She continued to stroke Michael's cock. He was moaning in pleasure now.

"Tell me when you feel like you are going to cum.," she told him.

"I….I…. soon" was all he could say.

She undid the dildo from the harness leaving it in his ass. She leaned down and took his hard cock in her mouth and sucked it all the way down to the bottom. That was it for him. He shot load after load of hot come in her mouth and she shoved the dildo in and out of his asshole.

When his cock began to soften in her mouth she pulled away. She got up on his lap and straddled him and kissed him on the lips. Then he realized she was transferring his load from her mouth to his. He tried to spit it out but she held her mouth on his and pinched his nose shut so he would have to swallow.




Applebee Publishing



Dana got off him and pulled the cock out of his ass. She went to her closet and retrieved his clothes, tossing them to him. She got dressed and lit another cigarette.

"Well I guess that makes up for last night," she said.

Thank God he thought.

"But there is still the matter of tonight. You made a tremendous mess in my bathroom again and it better be cleaned up before I get in tomorrow." With that she picked up her briefcase and walked out the door.

Michael just sat there with his mouth open.