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How Do You?

By: Native Alien



Okay, I admit to it. I kickbox and I lift free weights. There I said it. Is everyone happy now? I also do some other things that are considered a little more than unusual for a woman to be doing. I admit to those to. It has led to some interesting happenings and strange meetings in my life, but nothing that I can't handle. At least, I don't think that it has.

I use a gym here in town that is 99.9% male clients. There is one other female and she is there only sporadically. So this in itself leads to some interesting sights. The guy that owns the place is a real sweetheart. He watches over all of us like a mother hen watches over her chicks. He is the first in your face when you do something wrong, and he is the first one there when you need a friend. Needless to say, I keep him hopping between the two.

This past Tuesday when I went in to work out, (yes, I got a ride from one of the guys that I workout with), he saw me and walked over. "I have something for you before you leave this morning," he said. I grunted a okay as a reply and went on with what I was doing. I almost forgot about it during the workout and the sparring that occurred after the workout. I was getting bundled back up (we had an ice storm during the night and this was about 5:30 in the morning) to walk back home, when he caught up with me again.

He looked down at me and just offered me a piece of paper. On it was an email address that I didn't recognize. I looked up him, "who's is this, cause I don't recognize it?"

"Look I checked the guy out myself before I gave the address to you," he replied. He then said the guy had seen me with some of the other guys from the gym in Columbus doing something that we really shouldn't be doing. He got in touch with the gym and left his email address and asked that someone give it to me. 

So I spent the time that it takes me to walk home (about 45 minutes) thinking about what I should do. I have several email addresses that are used just for such a thing so that I am protected. Yea, I know, that isn't a guarantee but I try at least. By the time that I hit the front door I knew what I was going to do. I unbundled and slipped into more comfortable clothes and got the coffee going. The smell of freshly brewing soon filled the small apartment that I call home. I sat down and fired the machine up. Checked the email, and posted on Lit for the morning post. Then it was back to the yahoo mail.

I wrote an email and said that I very much appreciated the interest and asked some decent questions about the person that I was sending to. What I got back surprised even me. A very nice, sweet mail and the pictures....oh my, the pictures. This guy is built, and works out, and does it ever show. So, that begin an email letter that spent two days going back and forth. He was telling me what he really enjoyed and what his limits were and I was doing the same thing. 

Then on the third day it happened. He asked for the phone number and if it were okay that he called me. I thought about it for a while. I couldn't come up with a good reason not to give him what he wanted. Plus I have a thing for sexy voices. So back to the email and off with the phone number. Didn't take long and I heard the phone ring. 

I let it ring a couple of times before I answered it. "Hello, this is Randy", he said. The voice was deep and smooth, warm and vibrate, like a good Kentucky bourbon. I said hello and he started to talk. All that I could think about was that incredibly warm, sexy voice. Most of what he said just flew right by me. I don't think that I heard 95% of what he actually said. What I did hear was him explaining to me how he loved to eat pussy and watch a woman squirm and moan.

Then a pause on the other end of the phone broke my daydream up. Something about what was I doing Friday morning. "Nothing", was my reply. "So should I plan on being there around 10 or so?" he asked. Oh yea, came instantly out of my mouth. He then confirmed the time and said good bye. I stood there just staring at the phone. Finally I hung it up. Thinking to myself okay what do I need to get done here so that things will be in some kind of order. 

Later that afternoon the phone rang again. It was him again. He proceeded to tell me that Friday wasn't going to work for him and he had things to do on the weekend as well. I know what he is doing on the weekend, that is when the body building competitions take place so we decided that he would call Monday and we would finger it out from there. Look for part 2 sometime next week.

How Do YOU Do It?



How do YOU do it?

As a healthy adult male I've learned one thing about masturbation .. everyone has done it, and probably still does. For most men, the onset of puberty is also the onset of a very serious relationship of their hand with their penis. The occasional explorations of a child become a full blown (sorry) love affair of the penis and whichever hand is favored for daily (usually several times a day at that point) attentions to this intense love affair. This will generally be a lifelong arrangement with many side-roads and meanderings with opportunities for others to interact with the lovers, but for most of a lifetime, digital manipulation will remain the bedrock of a solid (sorry again) relationship.

I'm told by my female friends that a similar variant of this lifelong intimate involvement begins at puberty in about the same way for the distaff branch of the species . The techniques and opportunities will vary, but the goal of achieving that deliciously naughty overwhelming feeling is an entertainment that virtually all of mankind comes (sorry) to love. So if self-pleasures of the intimate kind are nearly universal, we must therefore celebrate them as one of our most cherished activities ... right? NO! We most assuredly do not, choosing instead to hide these universally shared acts in solitude (mostly). While there is a favored and shared alternative to self-relief that has social acceptance, albeit still generally private among the participants, the more universal masturbation is confined behind a closed door (so to speak). And in doing so, we must find our own individual way to all the variants of self-pleasure that can possibly exist, even though, as the saying goes, there is nothing new under the sun and moon. (or in the dark or in a bathroom or under a lamp in your bedroom)

So in the service of broadening the horizon of shared human knowledge, let us discuss some of the ways that we have "done it" ... purely for the sake of expanding (sorry) our understanding of the human condition, of course. As previously noted, most men find that the hand is ideal for the purpose of self-enjoyment. Indeed, logic dictates that the evolution of these useful appendages must have included their mutual compatibility as a major factor in the arrangement of arm length, central placement of the penis, the relative relationship of hand to penis, and the generally ambidextrous handling afforded the user. (are you a leftie? Or a rightie?) While each individual finds his own most effective and comfortable pathway to the goal self-pleasure provides, the most frequent method is for a hand to stroke the length and head of the penis in a pattern that its owner finds enjoyable. Those patterns vary in minute detail by as many sessions and owners as exist, but every one of these participants would find familiar each of the other's pattern.

But while hand-stroking is the dominant pathway to self-pleasure, let us not fail to recognize a seemingly endless array of other ways Man can achieve his desired results when driven by that intense need and a vivid imagination. Beginning with a child's (well, pubescent male anyway) curiosity, and an overwhelming need for release, most boys find early in their masturbatory explorations a plethora of means to release. The average modern household has many objects that, in a fertile imagination driven by hormones overflowing, seem designed for a hard penis to conquer. Bottles, storage containers, desk accessories, cabinet handles, objets d'art, knickknacks, sewing implements, furniture, musical instruments, kitchen tools have all been mentioned as sources of exploratory adventures. Any place at home, school or work can provide inspiration for a sudden urge expressed by the thoughts " will IT fit? And what would THAT feel like?" An empty toothpaste tube suddenly looks like an adventure awaiting if I just cut off the bottom and ... Tools on the garage workbench, a school-desk, a sink drain, any opening of approximately the correct size can take on sudden urgent alternative meaning. Wow! A vacuum cleaner! Of course, many of these are mere fantasies of the moment, never actually explored. But, medical records show that someone, somewhere did actually pursue that avenue, however outrageous to the calm (satiated?) mind.

Among other common human daily activities, food has been a popular choice for explorations, probably as long as Man has been masturbating and eating, not necessarily in that order. Texture and temperature have been mentioned as factors affecting the choice of the moment when food is employed as a source of release. Food is often easily modified for the purpose ... for example, fruit is usually a desirable consistency and is easily cut allowing for insertion . And jokes provide truth as in many human activities ... ya ever hear the one about Jimmie's visit to the watermelon patch ... he don't carry that pocketknife for nothing, ya know! And humor often tells us of the foibles and misguided efforts of men including their affairs of the hand. Stand-up comedy, adolescent jokes, even Shakespeare and Chaucer include masturbation and its flaws, and we all can laugh in familiar discomfort. And now that modern technology is available, so are a plethora of electronic devices to free the hand, at least partially, to turn the page or direct the mouse. Sleeves, vibes, dolls and "massagers" offer easy solo release, as long as there are fresh batteries.

I don't want to leave the impression that I'm ignoring the female efforts toward expanding this important human endeavor. As a male though, I'd find my explanations of a woman's experiences in this field (well, maybe not literally out in a field, though that sounds intriguing) would be a bit voyeuristic and therefore lack the proper substance (not that! Get your mind out of the gutter!) for a meaningful discussion. I will say that every woman I know who would speak about this matter, acknowledges her interest and participation in masturbating exploration. And women, too, find a common methodology with shared roots. The hand is again involved, although stimulation of the clitoris often takes an indirect form since the longer, slower arousal pattern of the female differs significantly from the quick one of the male. And while the urgency displayed by an adolescent male's worldview seen through his penis may differ from a young woman's teen experience, hormones have a very distinct effect on a woman's interest in self-pleasure that usually lead to the same solitary satisfaction her male counterparts are seeking.

Interestingly, woman can explore various options for self-pleasure with the same vivid imaginations as the male, albeit with different physical needs leading to very different choices. Men love to hear of a woman's desires leading her to "explore" her solo urges since it feeds a male desire to find for a receptive and eager female sexual partner. He'll believe that any woman who feels the same overwhelming hormonal drive that he does must be desirable. So erotic literature and folklore alike abound with examples of women finding desire and release with vegetables, tree roots, tools of all kind, doorknobs, bedposts and any object that mimics the penetration of a penis. Women, however, report choices that more frequently are not penetrative but rather stimulate the clitoris and labia. Rubbing goes a long way to the arousal that self-pleasure is all about. For obvious reasons, a pillow is a frequent early aid for many woman when they first find self-release. And any object affording similar opportunities may be employed ... an armchair, a stuffed animal (how cute!), and often a foot conveniently curled under in just that certain way. Riding a horse has been both a longtime fantasy and reality and don't think that the sidesaddle prevented Milady from "enjoying" her morning ride. Of course, the age of electronics has particularly benefited a woman's opportunities for maximizing self-pleasure. Massagers, vibrators, dildos,and fucking machines of endless form and ingenuity have become commonly available, even in the corner drugstore. Programmable wearable devices like remote control clit stimulating butterfly panties, double ended vibrating dildos, rideable machines that can bring orgasms endlessly from any woman are available at costs that may seem steep until one calculates the value per orgasm ... and without the hassle of a relationship with a MAN. Hmm, a bargain! 

How many women participate? Like all men ... 90% admit it and the other 10% are lying. Masturbation in some form is nearly universal to adult humans. Frequency and form vary, health issues may lead to changes, but virtually everyone does IT. Do some people suffer for their "sins"? Of course! The other universal of the human is his/her ability to complicate nature with values that deny reality. Ideal behavior has its place, but acceptance of some personal flaws always leads to a better person than outright denial of any flaws. For those who choose to forgo self-pleasure, it is the knowledge of that choice that improves them, not the act of denial. And flawed individuals can both benefit and suffer for their experiences. I knew a woman who suffered sexual molestation from an uncle from the age of 6 until she was 12. As an adult she went through years of therapy to deal with issues arising from that experience. Interestingly though, it was not her sexual life that gave her trouble. She recalled enjoying most of the sexual activities of her early experiences, which were not violent, and her only lapse of self-pleasure came in a year at a Catholic middle school when the nuns were quite adamant about the dangers of puberty. As an adult, she always enjoys a variety of sexual activities and exercises her daily self-pleasures including exploring with food (carrots and sausages!?) and, while not at all promiscuous, was happy when she found a partner who shared her enjoyment in frequent sexual activity. Her psychological issues were never a hindrance to her acceptance of sex as part of her humanity, and self-pleasure was a meaningful outlet. (To clarify her situation, security and trust were issues. Molestation is always damaging and is NOT a benefit to anyone!) 

While I would never encourage abandoning shared sexual pleasure with willing and compatible partners, masturbation is both nearly universal and beneficial. Learning oneself including our sexual personality and preferences leads to better relationships with those around us, particularly our intimate partner. If you know your level of sexual arousal, what are your "hot buttons," what turns you on or off, whether you enjoy finding new experiences that excite you, all these when communicated to your partner make a delicious shared experience better. So, find comfort in the universal need to "wack off" and go forth and do it!



How Do You Know?



Not much sex in this story. Just thought you should know. 

Thanks again to "Gypsies" for editing my story.

How do you know if your wife is cheating on you? Is it a change in her mood? Does she leave the house in the evening? Does she always want to go out with the girls? Or, any number other of the hundreds of things to look for? Mine is just a gut feeling. 

I came home from work and she was on the phone, the second I came in she said, "Gotta go, he's home, bye." That's it, which gave me this terrible gut reaction.

I thought about asking her who she was talking too but she could say anybody, even a telemarketer. Thinking like this couldn't just come into my mind, could it? It must have been in my conscious memory somewhere. I didn't want it there. I didn't like it. I am not good with change. I'm a more old fashion leave it alone till it breaks type guy.

Cindy and I, I'm Ron, have been married going on twenty four years. We have four kids, two grown and two teenagers. We don't have a lot, but what we have is ours. Don't really owe anybody. We have a small house but it's paid for. Our cars aren't the newest but there are no payments. We probably have a few credit card debts and that's about it. We're an average American family and try to live within our means.

We work, eat, do a few things as a family, take care of the house, do the school thing. That's going to everything your kid belongs too, sports, band, scouts and any other thing they're involved in. We sometimes even have dinner together, which is a rarity now days.

Our sex life is probably like most people our age. Once every two weeks or so, I wish it was a lot more but it takes two to tango. Cindy hasn't been much into dancing lately, pun intended.

Because of my stupid gut, I'll now have to be on the lookout for any odd signs from Cindy. It's like I don't trust her anymore and for no reason. I'm just hoping my gut feeling is just indigestion.

My problem is that I'm no super sleuth. I don't know much about the video cameras, phone bugging stuff, whatever the hell that is, and I'm not rich enough to hire a private investigator. Especially since I don't have the slightest clue what I'm looking for.

Cindy handles all the finances so I have no idea what she pays or when she pays it. If I start going looking through all the bills, she's going to want to know why. What do I tell her? My gut hurts so you've been fucking around on me? Boy, I bet that would go over big.

Our marriage seems normal, what ever that is in this day and age. We met while in our twenties, dated about a year, and then got married. She pops out a kid about every two years. I got tired of the pop outs so I had a vasectomy after the last one.

Well this was one of those days where we all, the two teenagers, my wife and I, have dinner together. The kids talked a little about school and Cindy talked about her part time job at the library. After the last two kids entered high school she was getting board and got a job at the local library. She was part-time and her hours were irregular. 

Maybe that's one of the places I needed to check out. But how do I do that. I can't just take off work and sit in front of the damn library to see who she talked too. It would be everybody who walked into the damn place. She's the librarian.

Tonight she was going to her girls' card club so I guess I could start my private investigation after she leaves. I would have to follow her in my old truck. I could hardly afford a rental like they do in the other stories. 

I left minutes after she did. I knew where she was going because she told me and left me a number where to get hold of her if I needed her.

I lost her or rather she lost me in the traffic, so I just drove over to Marge's house where the card game was suppose to be. When I got there I seen Cindy's car among others in front of the house. I waited a few minutes to make sure no one else was coming and then got out of my truck, which I parked a couple of houses down, and walked up to one of the windows and peeked in. 

When I looked in, I saw two card tables with four women around each one playing cards. It was another dead end, so I slowly backed up to return to my truck and stepped in a pile of dog shit. Damn-it, I said softly and continued to my truck. I had to clean the shit off my shoes before getting in my truck. Damn! It stunk.

When I got home I went into the clothes hamper and looked for her bras and panties. Good, she hasn't wash clothes this week. As I pulled her panties out of the hamper I felt the crotches and brought them up to my nose. Damn, they stink; I don't care what you say. Panties sitting in a hamper for a few days stink. It's not the same as being horny and going down on your woman. Everything smells good during sex. This was a few days later.

I looked through her closet for anything that looked out of place. Then I carefully looked through all her drawers in the dresser. I found nothing. I located the bills file in the filing cabinet. I went through all the bills in the files. I didn't find anything out of the ordinary. She was good, for a cheating wife she was excellent. I got on the computer and put in her password. She told me what it was; we had it posted next to the computer. 

I went through all the e-mails which was kind of stupid because we had a joint account and we both used the same e-mail address. I couldn't find anything. Here I was for the last three hours looking for something and just couldn't find it.

When I read these stories on the computer, they find all sorts of shit. Phone logs, motel bills, soil panties, hang ups on the telephone. They hire private investigators. They plant phone listening devises. Follow or have their wife followed. They find nude photos, VCR tapes, and even catch strange men in there bed. My Cindy must be good, really good.

As I was starting to put everything away, the door opened and in came Cindy. I had her dirty underwear in my hand when she seen me.

Okay Ron, time to talk. "You followed me to Marge's, and then I saw you starring in through the side window. The window was opened and I heard you say, 'Oh, shit'. Did you step in some dog crap? That's where they let their dog do there business."

"Now I come home and you smell my dirty underwear. If I didn't know any better I'd think that you don't trust me. Do you think I'm cheating on you Ron?"

"I don't know Cindy, I have this gut feeling, I've had it all day." I replied.

"Come over her Honey and let's talk."

"Were you reading erotic stories on your lunch hour at work again," she asked.

I nodded, "Yes".

"Were the stories you were reading, 'Cheating Wives' stories," she asked.

"Yes," I replied.

Then she asked, "Did you think about me while reading these stories?"

"Of course I did," I replied. "Then I came home and you were on the phone, and you said.'Gotta go' and hung up." 

She looked at me and smiled. "I don't know whether to be mad at you or just hug you," she said.

I looked at her and said, "Please don't lie to me, who were you talking to when I came in?"

"Your mother," she replied. "She calls me most everyday as you know."

"Ron, have I ever done anything at anytime for you to be suspicious of me and not trust me."

'No," I replied. "It was just my gut feeling."

"Honey," Cindy spoke, "You're a trip. If I didn't love you so much I'd be mad. You are my man regardless of how weird you are. I love you with all my heart even if I don't say it regularly. Maybe we don't make love often enough, but we can remedy that."

Then she took me by the hand and walked me into the bedroom, locked the door, dimmed the lights and then started undressing me. 

I lay on the bed and watched her strip. When she was naked she climbed up on top of me and inserted my hard cock into her pussy. God, it felt good. She rode me like a bronco horse. I couldn't hold back any longer as I shot a load deep into her pussy. Then I heard her squeal and press down on my cock.

She got off me, smiled and kissed me. "Do you feel better now?" she asked.

"Cindy," I replied, you're the greatest, but what about my gut?"

She smiled and started laughing, then said, "Take two Rolaids honey, you have indigestion."

Then she looked at me and said, "Honey, stop smelling my dirty underwear," 'That's nasty.'

Just a short story.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Comments welcome

DG Hear



How Do You Like Her Now?



A girl, a vibrator, and your ears...

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Click Here to listen. (6 min/mp3)

* * * * *



How Do YOU Like It?



How are you feeling, baby? 

Are you filled with uncontrollable lust tonight? Are the cravings and urges just too much? Do you long for the sweet release only I can give you? 

Shall I?

Will you give your need to me? Will you rest your pleasure in my hands, in my mouth? Will you relinquish your will to mine? 

Where do you want it, baby? Shall we lie on the sheepskin rug near the fire? Is the heat appealing to you? Are the flickering orange flames hypnotic?

Can you see those flames reflected in my eyes? Does the firelight brighten my long russet hair into a flaming mane of silk? Can you make out the darkness of my nipples through my white blouse? Do you see the shadow of a triangle at that glorious conjunction between my legs?

Why don't you take your shirt off as I remove mine? Are your tiny male nipples hard? Does it excite you to see mine? Don't you want to cup my breasts in your hands and run your thumbs over my turgid nipples? How strong is your desire to lean forward and suck them? Or do you prefer my fingernails pinching yours, raking your chest? Would that make you moan?

Shall we undress completely? Do you long to see my curves, to run your hands over my softness? Is your cock growing restless bound within your jeans? Will it be too cold without our clothing? Or will the dying hearth fire force us to warm each other? 

Are you leaning close? Are you almost touching my burning flesh? Can you smell my desire, deep and musky in the air? Can you see my quickened breath, my eyes dilated with pleasure? 

Will you remember to hold back? Are you still willing to let me have total control? Will you need to be restrained?

Will you position yourself on hands and knees when I ask? How high can you wave your ass with your head resting on your arm? Are your cheeks hot with arousal or chilled from the air? Can you feel my breath on your ass, hot and moist? 

Is your heart pounding in your ears? Are you afraid of my touch? Do you fear I will not be gentle, that I shall take your ass brutally rough?

How does my tongue feel as I run it along your lower spine? Does your flesh tingle when I slid it down between you ass cheeks? Do you feel remorse because I lick over your anus and along your perineum? 

Do you want me to go back? Do you want the heat of my tongue pressed against your little entrance? How does it feel when I swirl the tip of my tongue in circles around your anus? When I thrust my tongue into you does it make you harder? 

What about a finger? Do you enjoy a single finger violating your ass? Will you let me fuck you, as you are longing to fuck me?

Are you growing harder? Are you fighting the temptation to force me beneath you and plunge repeatedly into my slick cunt? Is it pure torture that I do not allow you to touch yourself? Does your cock, straight and hard, twitch with need every time I pump my finger in and out of your ass?

Why do you press back into my hand? Does it feel that good to be on the receiving end? Or are you pressing back so you can thrust forward, your full erection seeking some vice to bury itself in?

Do you stop when I remove my finger? Are you frustrated more than you thought possible? Is your frustration turning into lustful rage? Do you want me to slowly continue or are you ready to take me? 

Is your next move my possession? Or your submission?

You know I'll bring you release, don't you? Do you know I will grant you freedom of voice and body that is almost unbearable? Can you wait?

Can you feel your cum churning in your balls? Is my grasp on them tight enough? Is my squeezing to your satisfaction? Does the touch of my rough tongue there surprise you?

Will you sigh a deep-throated moan as I worm my tongue up the underside of your cock? Do you like the tiny sucking kisses I run your entire length? Are you soon to cum?

Does my mouth feel hot as I take you deep into me? Would the touch of my teeth grazing your skin send fear through you?

Will you cum the first time I constrict my throat muscles around your sensitive head? Or will it be the second time?

Can you cum for me now, baby? Will you let me drink every drop? Will you like how I swallow with each squirt? Does my hand squeezing you sac cause you to give me more of yourself? Will you let me have that final possession? 

Are you cumming, baby? Is your whole body surging with the raw sexual energy only men have? Are you filling my throat with you seed? Don't you want to? Are you?

Did you like it that way? Or shall I try another?



How Do You Like It?



So here in lies the age-old question... How do you like it? 

Huh? What do you mean? You have no clue what I mean? You don't think about it? Well since you are still in the dark, please let me enlighten you and open your eyes to the broad spectrum of how it's really done...

The next time you are on the bus headed downtown to work just close your eyes and think about the really pretty lady sitting across the aisle from you or that quirky looking man in the business suit sitting a seat in front of you on his laptop and expensive Personal Data Assistant as he 'supposedly' books dates and meetings. While you are thinking about them, think about how they like it. Is that lady in the business suit actually thinking about heading to work and committing adultery with her boss just to get that promotion? Is she thinking about having him spread her all over his oak desk with everything spilled on the floor? Or is she actually sitting in the seat with no panties on waiting to head home and slide up and down her husband's hard cock for his birthday or their five year anniversary? 

How about that quirky business guy in front of you? Is he waiting to head into his office on the fourteenth floor of the office complex to watch porn on his computer while he collects a paycheck? Big-busted women or how about beastiality porn? He could be headed into work to masturbate furiously thinking about his boss's secretary or wouldn't it blow your mind to know that he is actually screwing the boss's secretary; with her long muscular calves and thighs trailing down from the mini-skirts that she flaunts around the office!

Or maybe you're a college student... and you're headed into class on the monorail and a beautiful specimen comes to sit beside you in the hard plastic seats that public transportation provides... She looks you in your eyes and she cordially speaks. You, a straight laced female with a boyfriend at home are all of the sudden creaming in your panties as you stare into the eyes of that female sitting next to you in the t-shirt and sweat pants. Your denim skirt is being threatened of a wet spot as you rub your legs uncomfortably... no not uncomfort... in complete arousal as you think about if she shaves her tiny pink rabbit, or if she's even wearing a thong or panties at all under those sweats. Oh gosh, now you notice her hard nipples making indentations in her t-shirt and you question if she is wearing a bra...

Or maybe, just maybe you are that male college student... your professor is the object of affection. She always comes in dressed professionally, but what does she look like in the thralls of an orgasm? Is she the quiet silent type, or does she wreathe and grab handfuls of the sheets as she screams out loud? Another twist? Does she like it slow and smooth, or fast and rough? And yet another twist? Does she like small thick cocks to stretch out her frail fragile twat or does she like long cocks railing her completely to the back of her hot tight pussy?

More... really? Let's go to the grocery store. Watch that mother of three pushing the cart through the produce aisle. She looks tired. She looks worn, and in all actuality, her husband of eighteen years just left her for the cashier on checkout lane three. (She doesn't know that though) ...But she hasn't been laid in over three months. Sexual camel, maybe, or maybe she is dying inside to feel even the slightest touch from anyone. The mailman would be welcomed at this point and he's heading into his fifties! So what makes you think that carrot she's picking up is for a salad or a soup? Maybe she was raised the right way so she's never set foot into a porn shop, but at one point in everyone's life, the ridiculous gets a try and if this carrot will bring her to the brink of an orgasm while the kids are taking their nap, then it just might have to do the job!

You still haven't caught on yet have you? How about one more example? Maybe, just maybe, you're on holiday, and you're out at the beach. You spot what seems like two best friends out on the beach. They don't look gay, and they aren't holding hands or anything, and they seem to be having a conversation about the weather or something of that nature. What you don't know is that they are actually an experimental couple. Really? Experimental? Yeah... they are two colleagues that have worked with each other for the past eight years at a law firm. Their peers would freak out if they found out the little secret these guys have, but who's to say that these guys aren't headed back to their room after a refreshing day on the beach to act out their favorite love scene in a twink flick! Both anal virgins until this point, with loving wives and families at home, but a surprise to you is a surprise to their families too! Skin flute is the new solo instrument in the wind ensemble... or... never mind!

SO, what do you think? Nah, don't tell me... I already know. You're already thinking about all of the people that you come in contact with on a daily basis... you're thinking about that little virgin girl that sits in front of you in nutrition class. She's waiting on the right guy to come along and take her most valuable possession. That sweet cherry that lies in-between her legs! 

Or maybe you're thinking about that minister at your church that secretly frequents strip clubs and blows his entire paycheck while he claims to be one way openly and lies to his family and complains about a 'gambling' problem that doesn't really exist!

Let's visit the librarian at the local library who is into the dominatrix scene when the sun goes down, or that police officer that enjoys pain... and not just any pain, but he enjoys that dominatrix librarian stepping on his genitalia and whipping and flogging him until he bleeds...

Or your voyeuristic neighbor... or the paperboy that steals panties from the local laundry mat... or how about your best friend that secretly is into incest...

Now that you are clued into all of the many multi-facets of the sexual world, (with many more to be uncovered if you just look,) you can ask others how they like it while you think about how YOU like it! And remember, that wet spot on the seat that Ms. Business Woman was just sitting in, just may be something other than Sprite!

Until the next installment... keep your brain cells bubbling and your erections hard! And next time you can let me know How You Like It! 



How Do You Like It?



Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong

===

As I lay in Debbie's bed, listening to the sounds of her sleeping, I thought about the sex we'd just had.

Parts of it had been nice, I mused, but perhaps that was because I'd abstained for so long from being in a woman's bed. It had certainly been a treat to climax inside a woman after all these years and yet, now that it was over, it bothered me that there had been more wrong with how we'd been together than right. Like lying too long in a bath that had grown lukewarm, I had been left feeling distinctly dissatisfied.

I was finding it difficult to get to sleep because, in spite of the fact we'd made love and I'd released an almost embarrassingly copious load into the condom I'd been wearing, my cock was still achingly hard and feeling painful as the head of it chaffed against my underwear. A persistent erection after having sex with a woman for the first time could be seen as either a very good sign or a very bad sign. I thought, in my case, it was probably the latter.

To start with, Debbie had made a lot of effort both in cooking us a very nice meal and in decorating her bedroom with candles and scented oil burners to give our first pairing a sensual and romantic quality.

We'd got on well -- we'd had a lot to talk about and had made each other laugh as we ate -- and our kissing and fondling in front of her TV afterwards had seemed like a natural fulfilment of a pleasant time spent together rather than feeling forced or hurried.

Also on the plus side was that she looked beautiful naked -- a lot better than a lot of the women I've made love to during my life -- and had an exquisite pair of firm, supple breasts which, after so long of being without a woman, I was quite simply captivated by. I'd spent ages playing with them, licking them and massaging them, and I was amazed at how much I'd missed the presence of two such apparently innocuous mounds of flesh from my life.

The first problem we'd discovered was that, while she clearly liked me and there was an undoubted sexual attraction between us, what was lurking between my legs held far less appeal to her. Even while we were on her couch, nuzzling into each other and working our hands into increasingly intimate places together, she became agitated when she got a feel of my awakening organ through the front of my trousers and had gasped, groping at my thickening shaft through the material with disbelief, "Oh my God, Rob! Is that your penis?!"

I'd pulled back self-consciously, putting a hand over my bulge. "Is it... er... a problem?"

I suddenly felt about fifteen; like I was having to conceal my disproportionate development from my mother's puritanical gaze.

"How big is it?" she'd asked in horror. "I mean, how big does it get?"

"I don't know exactly," I'd replied with a blush, before going on, "maybe a touch bigger than average," grossly downplaying my size.

"But you're such a quiet guy," she'd said with incredulity. "I had no idea were hiding something like that!"

"It's not like I'm a serial killer," I said, trying an empty-sounding laugh to lighten the mood. "It's just my willy."

She frowned at the mound in my trousers and I felt myself soften in my discomfort. I'd encountered quite a few women who'd seemed intimidated by the size of my erection, but I'd never had one who had shown such affront.

"I hoped you might like it," I went on rather feebly. "It can be quite affable when you get to know it."

"Look Rob... penises aren't really my thing," she coldly informed me. "I can cope with small ones, but big ones... well... I'd better be straight with you from the start..."

"What's the problem with them?" I asked. Although it had never occurred to me before, as women didn't have penises of their own, it was -- I supposed -- fairly understandable that some of them might find them strange in their unfamiliarity, perhaps even to the point of being distasteful.

"With yours," she said, glancing suspiciously towards my crotch, "does the skin of it pull right back from the head of it when you get aroused? So you can see the purple helmet underneath?"

I blushed again slightly; this was a very personal question. Nevertheless, as I was hoping she might be willing to see exactly how it worked quite soon, I replied, "Yes... yes, it does."

She winced. "Well, that's what I don't like: the feel of the skin, all tight and pulled back, against the hardness of the stem. And the really strong smell of the helmet -- that horrible, venereal stink that men give off when they're horny."

"I don't think mine is especially smelly," I said to try and pacify her, although I was well aware that my cock had its own distinct masturbatory odour.

"Once the skin's pulled back, they all are," she retorted. "Or maybe I'm really sensitive to it."

"Well, perhaps you'll find my scent less offensive than some of the other men you've made love with. It could be that you've had a few unlucky encounters until now..."

She looked distinctly unconvinced but nodded. "As long as you know from the outset -- there's no way I'll be able to suck it!"

"That's okay," I smiled, trying to be reassuring. "I don't really like that, anyway."

Was that what this had been all about -- her aversion towards giving men blow jobs? That was understandable: perhaps she'd tasted a guy with grotesquely unwashed cock; or perhaps someone had climaxed in her mouth with a gush of particularly obnoxious semen.

She'd kept her hands well away from my crotch during the rest of our time on the couch, and as long as I did my best to conceal what was going on in my trousers, her shock seemed to abate and she started to relax back into our interrupted cuddling. Indeed, things were starting to look more promising until we got up to her bedroom.

There, in the flickering light of the candles, we undressed each other and kissed again. Once my trousers were off, and as I was kneading her breasts and licking at her peaked nipples, she threw suspicious glances towards the abundant mound stretching the front of my underpants in stark contrast to her tiny lace panties.

When it came to be her turn to remove my briefs and my partially-aroused cock flopped out of them, rising outwards from my body and as thick as her forearm, she grimaced up at me with an expression approaching disgust.

"It's okay," I said, struggling to muster a smile. "If you're worried about penetration, we don't have to do that."

"It's not that," she said, "I don't mind that. It's just how obscene it looks -- hanging there all bloated. Like something you'd see on a farm animal."

"Thanks," I said tersely. "Your body looks nice too."

Needless to say I hadn't told her of the body issues I'd grown up with so, in fairness to her, she was totally unaware of how much she was contributing to them.

"Sorry," she muttered and pulled down my underpants completely, seeing for the first time how large and heavy my balls are and how low they stretch my scrotum hanging down between my legs. "You're just such a nice guy, Rob. So reserved. And yet you have these... well... completely disproportionate genitals."

I threw her an embarrassed smile, trying to lighten what was for me turning out to be an excruciating development in our first evening together. "I didn't actually choose them."

She'd cupped my balls in one hand, like one might do to a stud bull to see how much seed it would produce. Then she grabbed at my cock and pulled the foreskin back and forth a few times. Finally, she sniffed inquisitively at the air between us.

"You have a really strong scent coming from down there... very manly."

Apart from the slightly disdainful way she'd said 'manly', the observation could, I thought, be interpreted hopefully.

"Is that a good thing?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I find it really off-putting. Especially the smell of the helmet when it's exposed... on a small guy it can be just about tolerable, but on you -- once you get fully hard -- it'll be really strong."

At this rate, I thought, that isn't likely to happen any time soon.

I did what she'd done: wanked my cock a few times and sniffed at the air to see if I could discern the reason for her aversion. I couldn't: there was, I admit, a slight tang to the air which might have come from my glans or my foreskin, but it could equally be from the dribbles of piss which had accidentally seeped onto my balls, or from the sweatiness between my legs.

Nevertheless, I tried to appease her, her mention of 'not minding' penetration offering a promise of better things to come.

"I try to keep myself very clean," I said. "But if you'd like I'll... you know... wash myself down there...?"

I would be offended if she said she would, but with my sights firmly set on what might be on offer on the bed, I'd be prepared to give it a shot.

"It won't help," she countered. "It's something men produce from their glands, I think. It's probably your testosterone, or something in your urine, but I really don't like it. It reminds me of the male rats at school."

That's nice, I thought. Likening me to a rat is really going to get our night of passion back on track.

She went over to one of her oil burners and poured some liquid into it from a tiny bottle. The smell of patchouli wafted over, pleasant at first but quickly becoming cloying. I'd assumed, when I'd first spotted the oil burners, that she would filling them with liquids known for their aphrodisiac qualities; it seemed she'd actually scoured the shop for those which could neutralise male pheromones.

She came back over to me, her breasts and the small growth of hair between her legs looking delightful in the shadowy gold light from the candles. She threw me an apologetic smile and reached over to kiss me on the lips.

"I'm sorry, Rob," she said quietly. "I know it's not your fault and you can't help it. I told you things were complex for me. This is... well... part of it, I suppose."

"Have you had a bad experience?" I asked.

"Nothing like you're probably thinking of," she said. "Let's get on the bed... come-on... let's enjoy our time together."

I smiled back, the feeling of being the stud exhibit at a cattle market easing a little.

We climbed onto her bed: her with all the grace of a cat; me clambering behind her with my balls slapping around between my thighs and my thick floppy member catching her duvet and making a sticky smear on it. I positioned myself in front of her so that my shin was covering the stain; I didn't want to freak her out by letting her see a splodge of penile precum on her bedding.

We kissed gently at first and caressed each other's bodies. I focused on her breasts, of course, and she ran her fingers across my chest. I wondered if she was thinking I was too muscular for her -- compared to a lot of men, I'm almost scrawny -- but her negativity towards my male physiology made me almost paranoid about anything she could interpret as macho.

As she rubbed my chest, she said she liked the fact I wasn't very hairy but, even when she was saying it, the reproachful glance she made towards wispy sprouts between my pecs made me wonder whether she would, if we made this a regular thing, petition me to wax or shave what I had.

We kept kissing and I thought it best to keep her attentions directed towards my upper body for a while, to give her time to come to terms that she had an especially well-endowed man on her bed with her. She seemed comfortable with me -- attracted to me, even -- above the waist and I wanted her to focus on that, not the perceived monstrosity between my legs, as we smiled together and explored each other's bodies.

Every time she tried to sneak a look down there, I guided her head back upwards and smiled into her eyes. I wanted her to see me -- that sweet guy Rob -- who she'd met for a meal and who she'd invited over for the evening, not the overgrown rod of flesh that was slumped on her duvet in front of me.

We kissed more deeply -- I drove into her with my tongue and she offered little resistance -- and soon my cock was starting to lengthen and thicken again. Again, I took care to keep it away from her, so as not to alarm her with how large I knew it would soon grow, and kept urging my foreskin forwards to cover the fattening head of it, hoping to spare her any stray wafts of the masculine odour which she found so offensive.

Eventually, though, I let her look at it again, hoping by now she was more ready to accept me. She stared at it intently, emerging like a third leg from my pubic bush, before looking back up at my face.

I smiled, trying to be as reassuring as I could and hoping she might begin to like what I was offering her.

"It's so big, Rob," she muttered uneasily. "And your balls... Jesus..."

Feeling a flush of self-consciousness which I struggled to hide, I looked down at myself. She was right: my testicles looked grotesquely bloated in my tight, red-looking scrotum. They were being pushed outwards on either side of my organ like two, fat, hairy cricket balls.

Why did they have to look so swollen and pumped up with semen on a night like this? Was it being with a woman that had done it; were my sperm factories running on overtime tonight? Did a guy's bollocks always grow so massive at the prospect of impending sex?

I smiled at her apologetically. "It's been a while since I had a release -- I think they're a bit full." I tried a rather desperate chuckle.

She tried to smile back but I could see her distaste. To her I was like some Neanderthal, who could just about dress himself up to pass as a civilised man. Once naked I was revealed for what I really was: a crude savage with an unspeakably monstrous phallus and a scrotum pumped-up and ready to burst forth with thick, dirty spunk.

She looked back up at me and I leaned forwards to kiss her lips. She complied and opened her mouth, and I entered her with as much tenderness as I could muster. She put her arms around my back and caressed my shoulders and I did the same to her.

Perhaps this was what she really liked with a man: gentle affection; a more sensuous connection.

But soon she pulled back. "Your skin is so rough," she informed me. "There are these fine, coarse hairs."

I smiled. "Well, to me yours is so smooth. I think that's how it's supposed to work -- we're supposed to find each other's differences attractive."

She shrugged. "That's a very male way of thinking. Everything so black and white."

We kissed again and, while our tongues were wrestling softly inside her mouth, I reached forwards and worked my fingers between her legs. Finding her lips pleasantly large and her opening surprisingly generous, I worked my middle finger into her, gently tickling her plump clitoris with my thumb and pleased that, unlike some women, she seemed to enjoy direct stimulation. Given how large she was, I couldn't understand why she didn't like big men more: she could certainly fit a big organ inside her with no difficulty. I worked three or four fingers in and out of her, feeling her moisten quite copiously at my touch, and sniffed appreciatively at the thick vaginal odour that started wafting up from her. 

"I like your smell," I whispered to her. "It's extremely attractive."

She looked uncertain as to how to respond and I smiled to show her that I didn't share her misgivings about how different our bodies were.

I pulled my fingers from her and sniffed at them, smiling more broadly to show her how excited I was by her most intimate scents, and then put one of them to my lips and ran my tongue along it. She tasted exquisite -- the large size of her opening seemed to imbibe her fluid with a strong, intensely feminine, flavour, and I leaned back to let her watch my cock visibly lengthening and rising upwards further to express its own gratitude.

I thought she'd like to see how aroused I was becoming by the juice from her vagina -- most women I've slept with have become turned on at the sight of my cock hardening at the taste of their pussies -- but Debbie almost flinched when she saw how erect I was becoming.

Nevertheless, I flaunted myself to her. She had to accept how I was built between my legs if there was to be any hope for us as a couple.

She stared at my organ as it rose up from the bed like she was watching part of the mating ritual of some repellent but morbidly compelling animal. My foreskin was retracting a little, exposing the purple head which seemed to so offend her, but I let it. She had to get used to whatever male odour she thought I had, and perhaps -- given time -- grow to enjoy it the same way that I relished her smells.

I returned my hand to her pussy and resumed gently fingering her opening and lightly caressing her clitoris. I could see from her face how much she enjoyed it: in spite of her reservations about my penis, she was clearly a very sexual person with the right stimulation.

She closed her eyes as I worked my fingers deep inside her, but I told her to open them and to look at my cock. I wanted her to feel pleasure while she was looking at my genitals; for her to start associating them with nice things to overcome the issues she so clearly had about men. 

Whatever she thought of my extreme proportions, surely she had to like something about what I had down there? However distorted they were by my size, these were, after all, pretty standard male genitalia: a cock sticking out from my pubic hair with two balls hanging down in their scrotum beneath it. Surely there must be something between my legs that was attractive to her as a woman...

She did as I asked and for the first time I saw pleasure in her expression as she looked at my cock. That made it continue to grow: the sheer fact of her seeming to like what I was parading for her made my excitement build and my organ readily respond.

As it grew, my foreskin continued to recede and the fattening mushroom underneath began to emerge in all its odoriferous glory. Debbie seemed to accept that I was now aroused enough to expose my swelling cock-head and I fingered her more intently to try and enflame her passion in spite of her deeply-felt reservations.

I could tell she was enjoying what I was doing and she began to work her hips with my rhythm. I could hardly believe how much fluid she was producing, my fingers and the palm of my hand felt like they were dripping with it and the air between us seemed to be filled with its potent, sensual bouquet.

If my cock really was reeking with my sharp odour of my maleness -- and I can't say that I could really smell it myself -- I was pleased that it was now joined by Debbie's more succulent feminine scents. I worked my fingers in and out of her with increasing vigour, fascinated by how much vaginal juices she was releasing and enjoying the gentle gasps she was starting to emit.

Abruptly I pulled out of her -- I like the element of surprise -- and told her we were going to do something she'd enjoy.

I sandwiched my erection between her breasts and then held them together and slid it up and down between them. She had indeed liked that at first, smiling up at me in pleasure from the feel of my cock sliding between her breasts and the way I was circling her nipples with my thumbs as I held her firm. She didn't even seem to mind the way my balls thumped heavily against her stomach with each thrust or complain about the sweaty smell from between my legs as I straddled in front of her.

I thought, as I held her like that, pushing myself up and down against her, she was finally starting to appreciate my large organ. I thought she was realising how much fun a man's cock could be -- especially a big one like mine -- as a plaything during foreplay.

But then I guess I got carried away and my foreskin must have retracted right back from my cock-head on one especially powerful thrust through the middle of her cleavage.




How Do You Like It?



At that point she'd pulled away, repelled once again.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, still breathless from her exertions. "It's just that your helmet's so big when you expose it like that... it smells so sharp... like a gents toilet."

I pulled back, trying to hide how upset and annoyed I was starting to feel.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "It's just that my last boyfriend was really small down there and his foreskin wouldn't pull back. You must be like four times his size. I just... I dunno... I must have forgotten how overpowering a man can smell."

I sat back down on the bed, my cock softening once more.

"So is size really important for you?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry... but it is."

I nodded. "It's funny, because a guy's size makes no difference to me."

She'd laughed at that. "Well, it wouldn't, would it? It's not like you're going to be doing anything with what he's got down there!"

I'd smiled back. "No, I suppose not."

Perhaps aware that things weren't going too well from my perspective, she'd suggested that I masturbate for her and had even offered to play with my balls as did so. It wasn't my favourite activity with a woman -- there were, after all, a few other things belonging to her that we could be having fun with -- but, eager to please her by doing anything she might enjoy, I'd complied.

She'd seemed to enjoy seeing me when I was stimulating myself, and smiled over at me as my hand pumped up and down my shaft. I worked up a fast, steady rhythm for her and smiled back at her, aroused once more; this time by the fact that she liked seeing a man wanking himself.

I pushed myself up so I was squatting in front of her, my fat hairy bollocks bobbing about in time with the rhythm of my hand. Again, she seemed to like seeing me pleasuring myself in that way, although she kept a safe distance from the slick, fattened head as my foreskin slid back and forth across it.

"Did you masturbate like this when you were a boy?" she asked.

I smiled. "Sometimes. But there was rather less to play with when I first started."

I was beginning to enjoy the performance I was giving her and pumped my organ more quickly as if showing off for her what I've done to myself since puberty. I craned my neck downwards so my face was just above the head of my cock as a dribble of clear ooze seeped from my slit. I sniffed hungrily at the smell of my own sex. It had a subtle but undeniably sour tang and went well with the more odorous smell of sweat from my pubic hair and balls. I enjoyed the flavour and smiled at her as I sniffed at it to try and demonstrate its idiosyncratic appeal: it was a celebration of my maleness which at least one of us was able to appreciate.

Perhaps encouraged by seeing me like that, she reached forwards and put her hand on my swollen balls, steadying them as they bobbed up and down in time with my rhythm. She rubbed them gently and I quickened my wrist, pleased she was at last showing some interest in my genitals.

I pushed my free hand between her legs again and worked a few fingers back into her. I wanted her to enjoy this; to feel pleasure as she touched me, to try and rouse her to go further. She gasped at the sensation and then worked herself against onto my fingers, matching her speed and rhythm with the more dominant pacing of my hand beating up and down the thick shaft of my cock.

I think we both enjoyed that: harmonizing the very different elements of male and female masturbation. The delicate sliding of my fingers in and out of her contrasting spectacularly with the powerful thumping of my swollen erection. The fragrant balm of her wettening pussy mixing so beautifully with the sharp bite from my cock being wanked.

I thought I would surprise her in the middle of us fondling one another, by straining my neck further downwards and licking the oozing purple helmet of my erection. At first she'd been shocked -- I'd expected her to be as most women are -- but after the initial surprise, I thought she would laugh and marvel at my unusual gift. I knew well -- after developing the confidence to reveal my talent to a few of my early girlfriends -- that it's something most men can't do and that most women have never seen anything like it.

But Debbie didn't even smile but instead had stared at me, incredulous, as I'd gently tongued my own organ by making circles back and forth across its throbbing and straining head.

After a few moments, she'd quietly commanded, "Don't do that, Rob," and I'd withdrawn my face sheepishly, feeling like a teenager who had been caught by his mother doing something improper.

I concealed the discomfort I felt at her reaction, and had instead kept masturbating the two of us while she fondled my balls, yanking my foreskin up and down and sliding my fingers back and forth between her legs.

Still squatting there, pumping my shaft in front of her, I suddenly knew what would really arouse me. I wanted to grab her wrist and push her hand behind my balls; to shove her fingers along the hairy, sweaty ridge between my splayed legs and then to force them up towards my areshole. I wanted to make her feel my sticky opening and see her shock as I grabbed a couple of her fingers to thrust them upwards through its delicate ring; I'd drive them deep into my hot, squalid bowels as I squatted there, bobbing up and down on her squelching hand.

How would that be for a contrast? Male and female penetration in stark opposition: her gently sliding herself back and forth against my fingers; me roughly slamming my own less refined orifice up and down onto her hand.

If she was so offended by the smell of my cock, I wondered how she would react to have her fingers slurping in and out of my arse; how appalled she would be when she sniffed my strongest and brashest odours. If she was so appalled by my genitals, how would she feel to watch me anally pleasuring myself, holding her hand steady as I frantically rode it, jerking my cock wildly in my unbridled excitement?

But of course I didn't do such a thing: I would never be so inconsiderate or sexually aggressive.

I did try gently to guide her hand between my legs but she misinterpreted my motives and briefly touched my inner thighs instead before declaring them too hairy for her. I squatted lower down, trying to angle my bum towards her, but she was already a little apprehensive about fondling my balls and showed no inclination to explore what was behind them.

My backside clearly held no appeal for her. What was there out front was challenge enough.

"If you don't like me licking my own cock," I said, directing my organ towards her, "I assume that means you don't want to lick it yourself?"

I wasn't very keen on oral sex, but I was happy for her to use her tongue on me.

She said that she wouldn't -- she said there was already, just from its hardness at being masturbated, a spermy odour wafting from the slit -- but she offered to lick my balls.

I was a little surprised, but readily agreed. I usually quite enjoy it when a woman does that to me.

She leaned forwards -- I could see her wincing from the heavy lacing of sweat on my scrotum -- and gently licked my fat, hairy balls as I continued masturbating.

Suddenly, again, I knew what I wanted to do to really excite me. I wanted push her face underneath my balls until her it was deep between my legs. I would hold her head there and straddle over her until her nose and mouth were level with my most delicious and odoriferous part. That would really get me going: feeling her snorting into my hairy, sweaty crack as my hot, sordid hole pressed down towards her mouth. I could probably climax with her face down there; especially if her tongue were to upwards and lick the straining rim of my anus.

I pushed myself forwards, hoping she might be willing to lick behind my balls so that I could gently, almost imperceptibly, work my arsehole towards her mouth. Although the smells of my genitals -- indeed any such evidence of my male biology -- seemed repugnant to her, I had a faint hope that she might somehow enjoy the more carnal and robust tastes I was able to offer her. There was a distant chance that, even though the combined odours of sweat, testosterone and precum were so offensive to her, she might be curious enough to push herself forwards and appreciate fully the most pungent and uncouth part of my body.

But she was oblivious to such attractions: however I repositioned myself, she moved with me to keep her focus on my balls; the darker and more animal flavours between my legs seemed, as I'd expected, totally devoid of any appeal.

Later, after I'd worked my tongue between her legs and had been enthralled at how strong she tasted in the flesh and how freely her juices seeped into my mouth, we'd made love gently in the light of the candles and with the scent of patchouli heavy from the oil burners. It was great to feel my cock inside a woman again -- especially one whose vagina was so spaciously accommodating to my size -- and to feel that there might, perhaps, be hope for the two of us: that this could be the real beginning of what could become a burgeoning romance.

But even then, in that most intense of states, part of my body was feeling left out. Although I'd never involved my backside in sex with a woman my whole life, right then it had never felt more neglected. Perhaps I'd grown so used to thinking of my bum as an extension of my genitals, it now felt profoundly remiss not to include it in our lovemaking.

I wanted Debbie to reach round and finger me as I fucked her. She was grabbing at my back and I kept trying to push her hands down towards my buttocks, but she was determined to avoid my rear at all costs and would persistently reach back up to my shoulders.

So instead, I began to construct fantasies of my own as we worked up a rhythm together, our bodies moving in unison to the beat of my cock sliding in and out of her. I imagined that she'd lied about being divorced and that her husband would walk in and catch me on top of her. Enraged and compelled to express his dominance over this man who was ravaging his wife, he'd pull his erection out from his fly and climb on the bed behind me. His cock would be huge: it was as if he was the one who had turned her off well-endowed men. Still thrusting in and out of his wife, my flexing arse would be roughly impaled by his long, thick phallus as he forced my shins apart with his knees. Then he'd grab me by the shoulders and ram himself in and out of my obscenely stretched hole, buggering me as his wife's adulterous lover until even the patchouli couldn't cover the profane stench of my debasement. And I'd grin at her as my gaping arsehole was so brutally ravaged by her husband's tree-trunk cock, filling her with my seed as his own massive balls released spurt after spurt of his thick, burning cum into my bowels.

I'd climaxed with that thought in my head and had kept pumping, sloshing around in my own copiously-filled condom, until Debbie had achieved her own orgasm or at least had pretended to.

As we'd cleaned up, Debbie had asked me if I could put my underwear back on before we slept.

I said it would be nice for us to sleep naked together but she'd muttered, "Sorry, Rob, but your sperm smells so strong."

I'd offered to wash it off -- I'm well aware of how powerful my semen smells, but she went on, "And... you know... when you're asleep you'll get hard-ons... and... well... your helmet and your dribble... I'll smell it on myself all tomorrow..."

So I'd silently pulled on my dirty underwear, wishing I was less fastidious about cleanliness so there'd be a dirty great skid mark on the back of them to offend her sensibilities.

And now I was lying awake, mulling over the sex we'd had, wondering if there was any point in us meeting up again.

She'd admitted she had issues, but what could they be? She'd enjoyed it when I'd made love to her -- had cried out with the feel of my cock inside her -- so why was so uptight about my size and my male odours? I don't see myself as a particularly whiffy man -- except for my semen, of course -- so why did she have such a problem with me?

More worrying than that though, my cock was still throbbing, and I wondered if it was dissatisfied with the vaginal sex it had experienced. Perhaps my sexual needs had been transformed over the last few months: maybe anal stimulation was now just as important to me as what I did with my penis.

Would sex with a woman -- even a normal woman without all this secretive baggage -- ever be the same again?

I looked over at her alarm clock over the other side of the bed. It was ten past three. This was going to be a long night.

===

I'd showered the next morning while Debbie was still sleeping, and had coated myself in all the gels, balms and deodorants I could find. It obviously worked in my favour because, in spite of how rough I looked from the paltry amount of sleep I'd managed to get, she let me make love to her again.

This time she only commented that my cock "didn't suit" me. She obviously thought I'd be better off with some stubby pencil-sized dick and a pair of frozen pea balls. Maybe she'd have been right: maybe I would have been happier if I'd developed that way.

After leaving her house, I looked at myself in the rear-view mirror as I waited at some traffic lights. Jesus, I looked like death warmed up. Tonight was the night of the office Christmas party and I'd really wanted to look my best, as good as that is, and yet here I was with about as much allure as a down-and-out.

I decided I'd head home and phone work with an excuse about car trouble. I needed at least of couple of hours kip to recover myself.

===

After sleeping until noon, I had a bath and a large mug of strong coffee to wake myself up. I looked considerably better than I had first thing and I now felt I was in a fit state to meet whoever it was who Cameron was going to fix me up with at the party.

I tidied my bedroom up a bit -- it was likely that a man was going to be sleeping alongside me that night (how amazing was that?!) -- and put fresh sheets on the bed. I certainly wouldn't be asking my new friend to sleep with his underwear on: if I smelt of his nocturnal hard-ons all the next day, I would quite enjoy the fact.

Checking in my drawer, I realised I'd need to buy a few new packs of condoms on the way over to work but I knew a chemist en route which usually had my size in stock.

I didn't go in for candles and oil burners. I might if and when Debbie came over to stay for the night, but not when I was planning to hook up with another bloke. With a man, I wanted our encounter to be under the glare of the overhead light -- I wanted to see him in all his hairy and muscular glory -- and the only smell I wanted in the room was the intoxicating stink of our male-to-male sex.

After spending an evening with Debbie, I felt like I needed something rough and dirty: I wanted my face in a guy's arse and I wanted to see it and smell it in full explicit detail as I did so. I wanted his cum all over me; his big, sweaty balls in my mouth. I wanted his cock up my arse, and mine up his; and I wanted to watch the two of us rutting together in my full-length mirror, our cocks rock hard for each other and our arseholes gaping.

We were going to have sex together as a pair of horny men, and I was going to make sure that this time, afterwards, my cock would definitely not be still hard.

===

Next story: Getting Together

===



How Do You Like Me Now?



Note from the Author: 

To all the picky readers out there, "Thank you!" This is the edited version of my original story. I would like to thank those who kindly pointed out my errors. 

You may have noticed that michchick98 also submitted a story with the same title. We both had the same idea inspired by the Toby Keith song entitled, "How Do You Like Me Now?" and agreed to write separate stories and compare how different our ideas actually were. Please take the time to check out her version of this story, she can be found through my favorites. Thanks for reading me, don't forget to vote.

*

Summer 2007

"Okay dad. I got the tickets for the concert next weekend," Jessie said excitedly, darting in the front door.

"Are you sure you want to go to that concert with your old man, son?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun dad. My friends think you are the coolest dad around and besides, you need to get out even if it's just a night out with your kid," Jessie replied as he patted his dad's shoulder, knowing how lucky he was.

Jessie, still in junior high, was proud of his dad. He knew how difficult his life had been raising a child on his own. His mom died in a car accident when he was just a baby. His parents met in high school and married the day after they graduated; five months later they discovered she was pregnant.

>>> 

After the death of his wife, in 1994, Noah still a teenager himself, contemplated giving his son up for adoption, but when it came to signing the final papers making the adoption legal Noah declined. 

"I know I can do this. Yes, it will be rough for a while, but he's all I have left. I know his mother wouldn't have even considered the idea if the roles were reversed and she was on her own," Noah told the woman holding the legal papers.

Noah was an only child himself and his parents had passed three years prior, but he did have friends from high school who helped out whenever they could. Noah had never remarried. He dated some, but never found anyone who could make him feel the way his wife did.

He had help from hiss on occasion, but they were distant with him and didn't agree with his plan to keep the baby after the death of their daughter. "It would be best for the welfare of the child," they'd always tell him. The last time they saw him was for Jessie's tenth birthday after that they went their separate ways and Noah raised Jessie alone.

>>>

"Hey Jess, what bands are we going to see at the concert?" 

"Dad, how many times do I have to tell you? There will be a lot of bands, some popular and some local garage bands. I don't even think I have heard all of them yet. If you are worried you won't like it I can ask Joey to go with me instead."

"Not on your life, boy. I'm looking forward to a night out and I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be spending time with. What time do we have to be there?"

"The gates open at six-thirty, but the concert doesn't start 'til eight pm. I think Stewie said it takes about forty-five minutes to get there."

"Well then, I guess I had better get supper started so we can eat before we have to leave. I don't want to spend a fortune in food at the concession stands."

"Okay dad, call me when supper's ready. I'll be in my room," Jessie finished as he walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway to his bedroom.

>>>>

"Finally he's getting out of the house. He's been spending too much time here with me," Jessie thought to himself as he powered up his computer. "I sure hope this works."

After the browser loaded, Jessie clicked the shortcut for the want ads. He had placed an online singles ad in the local paper searching for a woman for his dad. The page popped up without delay and Jessie immediately noticed there were three new messages. 

He clicked on the first message and read it, "Hello Noah. I am also a single parent. I love to party and life just isn't the same without a good party. I'd love to meet you and have some fun. I'm not looking for anything serious because I've been married five times already." The words 'married five times' blurted off the screen and Jessie instantly deleted that message and clicked on the next.

The second message was a bit more normal, but not his dad's type. "I don't think dad would like going to the beach naked. Sorry lady," he typed in the reply to the email. "Dang! This is hard work. Why are these women so strange? Aren't there any normal ladies around anymore?" 

Jessie was searching for someone like his mom. Although he didn't remember her personally, his dad had photos and slides of her when she was a kid and when they dated. His dad wanted Jessie to know as much about her as he could and they viewed the pictures often when he was a youngster. 

The advertisement had another three days left, but Jessie was becoming impatient. "I can't quit now. He's never going to get out there and meet somebody nice on his own, I just know it."

Jessie closed that page and opened his email to see if he had anything new from his friends. "Oh yeah! She actually responded! I can't fricken believe it!" Jessie said as he rubbed his eyes and glanced back at the screen. 

Scrolling down to the entry that had him freaking out, he clicked on it. When the message opened in a separate window Jessie scooted close to the screen and began to read.

"Hello CoolSingleDad. I enjoyed reading through your ad. Like you, I live in the town I grew up in. I've learned many lessons throughout my life. I left for a while in search of myself, not realizing I was truly myself when at home doing what I loved the most. Eventually after many ups and downs I settled on my one true passion, music." 

"I would love to meet you in person. With hoping you get this in time, I'm saving two backstage passes at the ticket counter for you and your guest. When you get there just tell them your username and the passes are yours. Looking forward to our meeting. Sincerely, Kellie."

Jessie quickly typed a reply, "Dear Kellie, I look forward to meeting you in person. It's been too long since I've been out on a date, so please excuse my nervousness in advance. I will be at the concert with my son. He got seats in the front row. I can't wait to see his face when he sees the passes. Thanks a bunch. Well then, I will see you tonight. Break a leg."

Jessie was so excited he almost forgot to spell check his message. When everything was set to go he clicked send and just in time too, because he heard his dad calling him for dinner. He closed all windows and put his computer in hibernation so he could immediately get back online later and tell his best pal about the concert.

Jessie had been planning dates for his dad for a couple years now, ever since he got his new laptop with internet capabilities. Jessie was a sneaky little kid and would review the singles ads weekly. His favorite location for a date was at the park where he and his dad frequently visited for a few games of Frisbee or to toss the ball around. 

After Jessie confirmed a date he would make plans for his dad to go with him to the park. When Jessie spotted the single female he would make himself scarce. Fortunately for Jessie, his dad never caught on to his son's sneaky behavior; but unfortunately the dates never worked out past the initial meeting. 

Tonight was an exception though. The woman Jessie was trying to set his dad up with would be at the same concert. His dad was unaware that Jessie had scored backstage passes. He knew the band was from the same town Noah grew up in, but little did Jessie know his dad already knew this woman.

>>>

Spring 1992

Kellie was a plain girl, a loner type. She had a few good friends, but they were stereotyped as she was. A good student, always making A's and B's, Kellie was in the chess club as well as the chemistry and Foreign language clubs for extra credit. She was good enough that her teachers often recommended her for tutoring students in whatever subject they needed assistance.

Kellie did it because she didn't want to let her teachers down, but she always hated those tutoring sessions, especially with the jocks. They treated her like dirt and she let them, never defending herself. 

One particular boy would bribe her to do his homework and if she refused he would do awful things to her. There was always a rumor going around the school about Kellie and her attitude, hygiene, choice of fashion and even one that she was gay.

The 'popular click' gave her a nickname in her junior year. "Smelly Kellie" was the most popular name used and to make matters worse they would usually make up a rhyme or some other derogatory statement to go with it as if the nickname wasn't degrading enough. 

"Hey Peter, here comes your girl. Yep, that's the girl you should ask to the next dance," one of the kids would say as Kellie walked past. 

His response, "Hell no, do you think I'm crazy? I might have problems getting a date now and then, but I'd rather sit home with my grandmother than be caught out in public with her. I don't blame the guys in this school or any other school for not asking her out. Would you want to be seen kissing someone who looks like a guy? I sure as hell wouldn't."

Kellie was tall and lanky, her figure resembling that of a boy. She had yet to develop the curves or even breasts that would distinguish her as a female. Her hair was long and thick, lacking style; hanging down her back and in her face when she bent forward. Her lips were full, but that was only because her mouth was full of teeth and those were covered in metal braces. 

Her tomboy clothing came from the discount stores or the salvation army because of her mother, a single parent and just fifteen years Kellie's senior was unable to afford much else and she had never been seen in a dress or skirt because she was embarrassed about her boyish figure. 

Kellie's school years were difficult, but her mother forbid her to work, "Your grades are much more important than keeping up with the newest fashions. You are still a kid and I want you to be able to enjoy these few years you have left," her mother always said.

Kellie was thankful for her mother's guidelines because that gave her more opportunities to explore her interests; that's when she discovered the guitar. Walking home from school one Friday, she took a shortcut through the alley behind the school. 

The sound echoed louder off the trees and garages as she neared. She stopped and hid behind the open door of the garage where the music came from. Trying to remain quiet, she pressed her cheek to the wood of the door, not wanting to be seen. All her efforts failed her though and she was spotted. 

"Who's there?" a male voice crackled.

Kellie tried to back away, but the kids tricked her by walking around to the back of the garage and caught her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you guys. I just heard the music and it sounded good. I wanted to hear more," she mumbled through her braces.

"Didn't anybody ever tell you it's not a good idea to walk down the alley by yourself, girlie?" one of the other kids said, as he looked her over.

"Not bad, but a bit too skinny for me," another said and then continued, "How old are you kid?"

"I will be eighteen in three weeks, why does it matter how old I am? I was only watching."

"It doesn't really, I was just asking. Don't bite my head off. Slim here is the oldest. Me and Skip are eighteen," Nick replied before turning toward Skip and Slim.

The next time she spoke she moved backward slightly. "I—I was just on my way home fr--om school and heard the mu--," she said quietly before being interrupted when Slim coughed. She stumbled with her words and her footing as she adjusted the heavy book bag on her back. 

"Oh great, now these guys think you're a geek too, just like the kids at school. Nice going genius. When are you ever going to learn how to talk?" she thought to herself as the guys headed back into the garage.

"Well, are you gonna come in or what?" Nick asked from inside the garage. 

"Really? Oh cool! Thanks!" she mumbled again, pulling her bottom lip away from the protruding metal wire of her lower braces and walked in. The garage was quite roomy even with the instruments set up. 

"Do you play?"

"Well, not exactly. I play by sight on the piano, but my favorite is the electric guitar. I love the sounds musicians can get it to make," she answered with a slight giggle of embarrassment as she covered her flushed face.

"Here, give it your best shot!" Nick said, handing her the extra guitar from the corner.

"Oh no, you can't be serious! I said I couldn't play. It will sound awful I know it will." 

Kellie surprised herself and the other members of the band; she wasn't all that bad on the guitar. She followed Slim's lead and before she knew it she was playing for real.

"I have to be getting home now, but thanks a lot for letting me sit in."

"No problem, come back tomorrow and we'll see what else you can do," Nick said.

"We need another player, but mostly a singer. None of us can sing and our lead singer just left us hanging," Slim added.

Nick walked her home and while they walked he learned as much about her as he could. He discovered her favorite genres after rock were country and easy listening. Their band played mostly easy listening, but always wanted to try country. 

"So, will we see you tomorrow, Kellie?" Nick asked as she walked to her door.

"Yeah, sure. It sounds like fun." 

>>>

"Damn, that girl can really sing! I never would have expected that voice to come from that body," Slim said as the guys decided together that asking Kellie to join their band would be a great step forward.

"Mom! Hey mom! You'll never guess what happened to me today on my was home from school!" Kellie shouted excitedly throughout the house in search of her mother. 

"What's all that hollering for young lady?" her mom asked coming up the stairs from the basement, with a basket of folded laundry. 

"I can hardly believe it myself, but I was asked to be in a band! Two of the three members are still in high school and I'm guessing the other guy is only 19 or so. They practice in Nick's garage, he lives a couple blocks from school." 

Kellie paused to see the reaction on her mom's face then continued, "It will be a welcomed change from the boring groups at school," she said as she grabbed a snack from the counter and headed to her bedroom. She quickly finished her homework as she daydreamed about playing in a real band.

>>>

Kellie arrived at Nick's bright and early Saturday morning, actually it was afternoon, but to the guys it felt like morning as they straggled in sleepy eyed and yawning. 

"Hey Kellie, I hope you don't have anything planned for next Saturday," Nick said as she entered the garage ready to play.

"Okay, I don't, but why?" She asked hoping what she thought he meant was actually the reason.

"We have our first gig Saturday at a small club in Hamtramck. It's not a good paying gig, but we will get exposure if nothing else."

>>>

"I think you should go for it Kell! He's gorgeous and as far as I know he's not going with anyone to the Spring Fling," Jo giggled, daring her best friend to ask the most handsome guy in the school to take her to the dance.

"Oh no, you've got to be kidding me! He doesn't even know I'm alive, much less that I have a crush on him. He surely has a girlfriend. If he doesn't, then there must be something wrong with him, don't ya think." 

"I mean look at him, really look at him. Besides being handsome, he's the captain of the basketball team; he's on the baseball and football teams too. I bet he's dating one of the cheerleaders. What could you possibly think he would have in common with me?" 

This had been the ritual for the past three years and now as the kids entered their senior year of high school nothing would change. Kellie secretly had a crush on Noah for the past six years, although her friends only knew about the last three.  

She took up music and was nominated for the choir because of her singing talents and whenever there was a performance she made certain she knew exactly where Noah was sitting so she could sing to him and hopefully make eye contact. She even went as far as taking the same classes he did so she could be closer to him. 

Once in a while Kellie would go out with her girlfriends, but that was just for a school event and then it was right back home for her. This lifestyle didn't bother Kellie too much because she had a hobby she loved. 

While the other kids her age were out on dates, hanging around the parks or at the mall, Kellie would be practicing her guitar. She had even written a few songs and eventually took her music to the band members.

>>>

"Shirley, I think I found the band for prom! I heard them when I went out with Sam last weekend. He took me to this little dive in Hamtramck. They feature local bands and the one we heard was quite good. 

It shouldn't cost too much because of its size, only four members. I can't recall the name, but Sam has it. I will give them a call and see if they would be willing to do a tryout this weekend."

The band agreed to the session and said they would only charge $100.00. Kellie was unaware of this agreement until they pulled up at her school. 

"What are we doing here?"

"We have a potential gig scheduled for the end of the month and the kids here want to see what we sound like," Slim said as he parked and started to remove the equipment from the back of the truck.

"I never agreed to this!" Kellie shouted, refusing to go in the building.

"What's the deal with her all of a sudden?"

"Didn't you know? She's still in high school and this is her school you idiot."

"I knew she was still in school, but I didn't picture her as a good Catholic girl. Know what I mean?"

"She might not be a good Catholic girl, but these are her classmates. I will have a talk with her and see if I can change her mind."

"Hey girl, wait up!" Nick shouted as he chased after her. "C'mon, this is a paid gig! You can do it. Besides, didn't you say the kids in your school don't even know you exist?"

Nick cornered her, placed his hands on her shoulders and with his most serious expression continued, "I think it's time you show them you do exist and you are on your way to stardom! I overheard Slim tell a guy he was trying to get a local recording studio to tape us so we will have a CD to give out."

"Really? Well, I suppose I can give it a try, but if anyone starts making fun of me I'm outta there, got it? I didn't have a date for this anyway. At least now I get to go without looking stupid," Kellie giggled as she turned and walked back to the van and helped unload the equipment.

"Hello," Slim started, but then hesitated, "We're um --- uh ---" 

Kellie took over when the girls became impatient. "Hey there. If you don't know me I'm Kellie Price and we are THREE GUYS AND A GEEK and we are ready to play for you if you are ready to listen." With that, Kellie slid her pick across the strings of her guitar and the band joined in, just as they rehearsed back in the garage.

The band played three songs total, two fast and one slow. Kellie sang for all three songs but only played guitar for two. They did one song for each genre they were interested in; which included one of Kellie's originals.

The girls listening seemed amazed and impressed with what they heard from the band and it was unanimous; the band was selected as the band for the prom.

"What the hell were you thinking Kel? Couldn't you have come up with a better name for us?" Slim shouted as they loaded the van and headed back to the garage.




How Do You Like Me Now?



This story, as you can tell by the title, was inspired by a Toby Keith song. My editor and good friend sweeteuphoria is also doing a story of the same title, but with completely different characters and plots. We both agreed to write our stories and see how different our ideas were. Be sure to read hers when it posts, I'm sure it'll be a great read. You can find sweeteuphoria through my favorites. This is in no way a competition between the two of us. We both just happened to have the same idea and we both wrote our own separate stories. 

-------------------

My name is Sally Thorne and I want to tell you the story of how I met my husband. Now I usually don't offer this type of information willingly to complete strangers, but for some reason, I just can't stop myself.

My husband Eddie and I have known each other since high school, but we didn't actually get together until well after we graduated. You see, Eddie in those days was what everyone considered a nerd. He was tall and skinny with thick coke bottle glasses covering the deepest blue eyes I'd ever seen. He had short blonde hair that always looked uncombed and wore starched white shirts and neatly pressed pants. Yes, he even had the pocket protector -- he was a typical nerd.

+++++

"HEY! I was not a nerd!" Eddie said to me as he read what I was writing over my shoulder.

"Yes, you were, and stop reading over my shoulder!"

"You love it when I read over your shoulder." He leaned down, pushed my hair aside and nibbled on my neck.

"Stop that," I told him, shivering under his touch. "I'm trying to write here."

"You love it when I read over your shoulder," he repeated.

"I don't. It bugs me. Now go away and let me tell our story."

"Don't forget to tell the part about -- "

"I won't forget anything, now get away and leave me to it!"

"Fine, but I wasn't a nerd."

"I don't get a kiss before you go?"

"I don't think you deserve one for calling me a nerd." 

"God, what a baby." Oh well, he's my baby and I love him.

+++++

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. He was a classic nerd, no matter what he says. I, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. I was captain of the cheerleading squad, homecoming queen for junior and senior year and salutatorian for the class of 2001. 

The story starts back in 2000 when Eddie and his cousin started a band out of their garage. I'd heard about it through some friends and Eddie would nag me incessantly to come hear him sing. I would usually just laugh in his face then flip my long blonde hair and walk away, leaving him standing there, awaiting an answer. I guess he didn't get the hint that the hair flip was my answer.

At the last party of our senior year, my friend Troy had asked Eddie, his cousin and their band to play at the party. I wasn't aware of this until I arrived at the party myself and saw them up on stage. I was dating a college guy at the time and he didn't come with me that night, telling me he couldn't be bothered with high school parties. Unfortunately, he was always like that and I had to find myself a date for school functions or just go alone.

It was never a problem for me to find a date; most of the guys at John Glenn High School followed me around like lost puppies. I loved the attention but most of the time I didn't give any of them the time of day. 

I had heard from a few friends that Eddie had a crush on me, which didn't surprise me, because like I said; most of the guys at John Glenn high school did. Eddie was different than most of the guys though. He wasn't really the type of guy I was interested in, but there was always something in his eyes when he looked at me. I found it difficult to keep eye contact with him and if I did hold his gaze for too long, I always felt a heated blush rise in my cheeks, not to mention my heart would feel like it skipped a beat.

All right, I'm straying from the story a bit. We were at my friend Troy's party, right? Yeah, okay. Eddie and his cousin were playing at the party. They called themselves Thorne and I really wasn't sure if their style was country or rock music. It sounded like a bit of both. I was surprised to find that I actually thought they were pretty good. I didn't admit that to Eddie, I didn't want him to think I liked him or something.

+++++

"But you did like me," he said, reading over my shoulder again.

"Do you want to tell the story?" I asked, slight annoyance in my voice.

"No, you're doing a great job so far, please continue."

"I can't work with you hanging over my shoulder like that, Eddie. Don't you have something else you could be doing?"

"Yeah, but you're writing our life story right now," he said with a grin.

"We really need to get a home office," I mumbled.

"What?"

"Oh nothing. Why don't you go fix dinner and I'll be out in a bit."

Eddie leaned in and kissed me again, lingering longer than he should have, breaking my concentration again. 

"Damn it, Eddie!" I squealed as he tweaked a nipple before leaving me to my writing.

I am definitely looking into having a home office built first chance I get. So anyway, back to my story, again. 

+++++

Now, Eddie and the band had taken a break and he managed to find his way to the table by the pool where I was sitting with some friends. They saw him coming and teased me about him liking me again. I just shrugged them off and pretended not to see him approach.

"Hey Sally," Eddie said.

"Hi," I replied quietly.

I saw him smiling at my friend Julie out of the corner of my eye and much to my surprise, she and the other girls at the table got up and left me alone with Eddie. I vowed silently to myself to get them back for that later.

"I'm glad you finally got a chance to hear me sing before I head for New York," Eddie said, sitting down in the seat Julie just vacated.

I looked everywhere but at him, knowing that if I looked him in the eye that same heated blush would rise in my cheeks again. "New York?"

"Yeah, there's a battle of the bands contest there about a month after graduation, Thorne is heading there to see if we can make a name for ourselves."

"Well, good luck with that," I said sarcastically as I rose to my feet.

"Wait, Sally."

"What?" I asked, turning around to face him. I was only a couple inches shorter than he was and even though I tried my hardest not to make eye contact with him, I failed.

"Well, we're not playing all night," Eddie started. "I was wondering if you'd like to go grab a burger or something after the party."

"I can't Eddie," I replied, forcing myself to look away from him.

"Why not?"

"Did you forget that I have a boyfriend?"

"No, I didn't forget, but I couldn't help notice he's not here."

"Do you know what people would say if we were seen together?" I asked, regretting it the moment the words left my mouth.

"No," he said, annoyance lacing his voice. "What would they say?"

"Okay, well I don't know exactly what they'd say, but I have a reputation to uphold Eddie. If you and I were to go out --- " I started.

"Oh, I get it, you're a stuck-up bitch who can't be bothered with a guy like me!" he snapped. He rose to his feet and stormed off, but not before he added one final comment. "You'll change your tune about me, Sally Arnold, but then it'll be too late. Don't come crawling to me when I'm rich and famous!"

"As if," I said, slumping down in my seat, my heart aching from hurting Eddie's feelings.

I knew I should have gone after him at that point, but I didn't. I did have a reputation to consider. The people I hung out with weren't as easy to get along with as I was. I talked to everyone and I tried to be friendly most of the time. But if I were to be seen alone with Eddie Thorne, well, I'd have ended up being an outcast in my circle of friends. 

Besides, most of the girls in our circle couldn't keep their mouths shut for a minute and I knew someone would run to my boyfriend and tell him I'd gone out on a date with the biggest nerd at school. Peer pressure was a bitch!

I noticed that by the time Thorne was finished with their last set, the party was winding down. Most of my friends had gone home and I didn't really know why I stuck around. Maybe deep down a part of me did want to go out with Eddie after the party.

I rose to my feet and headed into the house, feeling Eddie's eyes on me the entire way until I disappeared inside. I found Troy laying back on the couch looking like he'd had a bit too much to drink. I approached him and he smiled at me then rose unsteadily to his feet.

"You-leavin'-already?" he slurred out.

"Yeah," I said, hugging him and almost falling to the couch when he stumbled as he broke the embrace.

"See-ya-at-grajerashun," he replied.

I chuckled at the state Troy was in, he just smiled and slumped back onto the couch. "Yeah, see ya Sunday." I found the front door quickly, saying my good-byes to the few 'stragglers' left behind.

I walked down the driveway and stopped just before I reached the street, looking left then right, trying to remember where I parked my car. I spotted it about four houses up on the right and continued down the sidewalk in the direction of my car.

Hearing voices behind me but not recognizing who they were, I increased my pace; reaching my car just as a hand came down on my shoulder.

"Sal!" a male voice shouted from behind me. 

I turned to see it was Troy's best friend, Jason. "Hi Jason," I said, reaching in my purse to find my keys.

"Where ya going?" he asked, not releasing his grip on my shoulder.

"Home, it's late and I've gotta get up early tomorrow to help my mom out with a few things around the house," I replied, gripping my keys tightly as I fumbled to slide the correct one into the lock.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into him, pressing his obvious erection into my ass. "Since Steve's not here, what's say you and I have some fun?" he asked, pushing his hips into mine. I couldn't believe he was coming on to me in the middle of the street. I felt his hands roam higher; cupping my breasts over the thin material of the dress I wore.

"Knock it off, Jase," I said, pulling his hands away from me and opening my car door. "You're drunk, go sleep it off," I added.

"Not 'til I get me some of this," he said, reaching around and pushing his hand between my legs. My body betrayed my words and I felt myself getting aroused. "Yeah, I can feel you getting wet already," he hissed in my ear.

He turned me around to face him and brought his lips down to mine in a crushing kiss, pinning me between his hard body and my car. I used every bit of strength I had to push him away, but it was no use, he was stronger than me.

"Yeah, you like that don't you?" he said, hearing me grunt as I struggled to push him away. He had himself positioned in such a way that my left leg was between both of his legs. I brought my knee up hard, using every ounce of energy I had. 

I obviously didn't kick him hard enough because he merely stumbled backward, holding his crotch, a look of complete anger in his eyes. "BITCH!" he screamed, lurching forward and pulling at my dress. The thin material ripped and dropped to my waist, exposing my thin lace bra. His assault continued and I pushed him away again, fumbling to pull my dress up around me. He grabbed my hands and pinned them behind me then claimed my lips in another anger filled kiss.

He used his body to hold me against the car while his lips harshly assaulted mine. He reached down and began squeezing and pinching a nipple, chuckling against my lips when I let out a whimper of pain. I kept my eyes closed tight and tried to work my hands free from his grasp.

Just as I felt his hand roam down my belly to the waistband of my panties, I felt him jerk away with a loud grunt. I opened my eyes to see Eddie standing over Jason, his fists clenched. Jason was flat on his back in the middle of the street, holding his nose. "You fucking prick! You broke my nose!" Jason cried. 

"That's not all I'll break asshole. Now get the fuck out of here!" Eddie replied, lowering his arms to his sides; not releasing his tightly clenched fists. 

Jason slowly righted himself, staggering slightly, his blood soaked fingers still cupped over his nose. "You'll pay for this Thorne, you fucking geek!" he said as he made his way up the sidewalk toward Troy's house.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked; turning to see me huddled on the ground by my car.

"Yeah. I'm fine," I said, wiping my eyes and taking Eddie's hand when he offered it. 

"Why don't you let me drive you home?" Eddie said, still holding my hand while I steadied myself, his eyes roaming up and down my body. I felt a pleasant chill down my spine when I placed my hand in his, forgetting for a moment that I was still half naked.

"I -- I'll be fine, Eddie. Thanks," I said, pulling my ripped dress up around me and holding it in place.

"Here," Eddie said, pulling off the sweatshirt he wore and handing it to me. "You can't go home like that," he added.

"Thanks," I repeated. I pulled his shirt over my head then took the few steps to the still open door of my car and Eddie placed a hand on my arm.

"I'd feel better if you let me drive you home," he said. "Please?"

I turned to look at him and felt my heart flutter at the look in his eyes. He was genuinely concerned for me, even after the way I treated him. His look made it impossible for me to refuse him a second time.

"Okay," I replied quietly, handing him the keys. "Do you know how to drive a stick?"

"Yeah, Rob taught me last summer," Eddie said, taking my hand and leading me around to the passenger side. He opened the door and helped me in, waiting until I was settled in the seat before closing the door and heading back to the driver's side.

He drove to my house in complete silence. I only spoke to give him directions. He pulled up in front of my house, turned off the engine then ran around to help me out of the car. He handed me my keys and watched as I slowly made my way up the sidewalk to the front door.

"Thanks, Eddie," I said over my shoulder, unaware that he was following a few steps behind me. "I'm fine now, you don't have to follow me to the door," I said, realizing he was behind me when I heard the step creak a second time.

"I'll wait 'til you get inside," he said, standing on the bottom step of the small porch.

In one swift movement, the handle of the screen door slipped from my hand and I stumbled right into Eddie's arms. He held me for a moment while I tried to regain my footing, our eyes locked in a heated gaze.

"Thanks," I said quietly, taking a step up but not breaking eye contact with him. He took the keys from my hands and glanced down at them. I pointed to the correct key and he slid it into the lock.

When he reached out to hand me my keys, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into him. He cradled my face in his hands and brought his lips down to mine. I closed my eyes and ran my hands up his chest and around his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. 

I felt my knees weaken as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him, causing his rapidly growing erection to press into my belly. I gasped at the feel of his hard member pressing into me and realized what I was doing. I pushed at his shoulders until he broke the kiss, releasing my waist and taking a step back. 

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped.

Seeing the anger in my eyes and hearing it in my voice, he took another step back. "I -- I'm sorry, Sally," he said, "I'm so sorry." 

"Asshole!" I screamed, then turned and pushed my way into the house without looking back.

"God, I said I was sorry," he replied as I slammed the door in his face.

I stood against the door, my finger traced over my lips. My pulse raced and I experienced feelings I'd never known before. I slid down the door and put my head on my knees. "Eddie," I whispered. "I wish things could have been different between us."

+++++

I was unaware at the time that Troy's party would be the last time I'd see Eddie until our five year high school reunion, I didn't even see him on graduation day. Things had really changed for both of us by the time our reunion rolled around. Thorne was one of the hottest country bands in the U.S. and Canada and I was fresh off a divorce from Steve, the college guy I dated in high school.

Steve and I got married shortly after I graduated and his parents had bought us a house when they found out I was pregnant. Things were going great for us until my miscarriage, four months into my pregnancy. Steve couldn't handle the emotional roller coaster and was coming home later and later every night. 

He worked for his dad at a local computer software company and I had pretty much become a stay-at-home wife, drowning my sorrows in Hagen Daaz and Starbuck's (okay, I never drank alcohol, even when things were bad -- Starbuck's was my one weakness, but also my source of comfort.)

About six months after my miscarriage, Steve came home from work and announced he was leaving me and that he'd filed for divorce. I was angry and I was hurt. I wondered how he could be so cold as to just leave me when I needed him most. I found out later that he'd been seeing someone else behind my back for quite a long time and she was pregnant with his second child. 

To my surprise he agreed to give me the house and the car in our divorce settlement. To his surprise, even though I was not employed, I turned down spousal support. His parents were none too happy with him for leaving me, so his father wrote me a check for $10,000 and told me it was for emotional suffering. He wouldn't let me refuse it.

Once the divorce was final, I took a long hard look at myself. Since I was a free-lance photographer now, I hadn't worked steady since I was in high school -- and even then, I only worked for a few months at Burger King -- and all the Hagen-Daaz and Starbuck's were starting to show on my hips. I took some of the money Steve's dad had given me and purchased a lifetime membership at a local gym. 

I forced myself to get on with my life, despite how depressed I was all the time. When I received an email from the reunion planning committee, I vowed to myself that I'd look the same as I did when I graduated; I had a little less than a year to accomplish that.

When I found out Eddie was attending the reunion, I couldn't hold back the excitement I felt. I had followed his career when I first heard that Thorne had made it big and I even went to a concert they had here in Detroit about two years ago. I couldn't muster up the courage to try to contact Eddie though. I figured he either wouldn't want anything to do with me after the way I treated him or just plain didn't remember me.

+++++

I met up with a few of my friends at the reunion. We'd pretty much lost touch over the years. About the only real contact we still had were Christmas cards or an occasional email. Julie was married to a doctor and my other friend, Terry was married to a guy she met in college, he was a computer repair technician. Both Julie and Terry had two kids and were working on their third.

The reunion planning committee chose a banquet room in a local hotel for the gathering, allowing those classmates coming in from out of town to attend the reunion and not have to worry about driving after if they'd had too much to drink.

I didn't get a room at the hotel because I only lived about 20 minutes away and didn't drink anyway. I offered Julie and Terry and their spouses a room at my house if they wanted, but they all said they'd reserved rooms at the hotel.




How Do You Like Me Now?



"Hey, you're the one who hesitated, I did what I thought was right. Those girls weren't gonna wait around forever while you tried to compose yourself, jerk. We can always change it to something better later. It's just the first thing that popped into my mind and besides that, it fits doesn't it?" Kellie shouted back in self-defense. 

That was the first of many school functions the band was invited to play at. Kellie was able to sing her original songs, directing the lyrics toward Noah every time, hoping he would read between the lines.

Unfortunately, Noah never gave her the time of day, much less a second glance when passing in the halls. 

"I think she's got the "hots" for you big guy. Too bad you're all hooked up on that blonde over there."

"I noticed her, but you've got to be kidding me. I would be the laughing stock of the school if I were seen in public with her. What's her name anyway?"

"Kellie Price. Remember? She's the girl who played in that band we had for spring fling and the senior prom." 

"Oh yeah, she's got a nice voice I guess, but look at her man. Do you think she's ever had a date with a guy before?"

Kellie stared and smiled as the kids pointed and talked about her behind her back. "I will show them, one of these days. I know what they think of me now, but just wait, wait until I'm a star. They will think twice about the way they treated me when they fork over the big bucks at concerts to hear me play for them."

Kellie said her final goodbyes at her senior prom when her band played their final set. She wished everyone well and the next day she was on a plane to California.

>>>

Summer 2007

The music was blaring and Noah could hear it from the parking lot as he approached the entrance. "I'm glad I remembered my ear plugs," he said smiling at his son.

"Oh dad! This is so cool! Come to think of it you sure are one cool single dad!" Jessie shouted as they stopped at the ticket booth and handed their tickets to the female employee behind the counter.

"Excuse me sir, this is for you," the girl taking tickets told Noah as he passed the metal poles.

"What's this?" 

"Your ticket states that you have a backstage pass to see the headlining band tonight, sir."

Noah glared at Jessie, "What's this all about son?"

"Oh I don't know dad," Jessie replied, playing it off like he had no idea what was going on. "You know how hot this woman is dad? Now we get to see her close up," he added with a sly wink to the girls behind the counter.

Jessie's plan was in full swing now, all he had to do was sit back, relax and enjoy the show. 

"Someone will come get you when their set is over and you will get to talk with the members of the band," the man said as Jessie and Noah were directed to their seats.

"Wow, this place sure has changed," Noah thought to himself as he tried to keep up with Jessie.

"Damn, son! What ties do you have to get fantastic seats like these? Of all the concerts I use to attend with your mom I was never fortunate enough to score front row. Nice going, son."

Noah had no idea this was all part of the plan; the plan to hook his dad up with the single female who answered his ad all those weeks ago.

The bands played sets of four songs each. Some were better than others, but when it came time for the headlining band the lights dimmed, the crowd was tense as they awaited the headlining band. 

The crowd started pounding their feet and whistling as the spotlights colored the stage. "This is it dad! The moment we've all been waiting for," Jessie said, nudging his dad's shoulder and scooting to the edge of his seat. "I sure hope she looks as good in person as she did in the photo she sent with her first reply," Jessie thought to himself.

The music began. A thunderous roar of drums and the squeal of the electric guitar filled the air. "Ladies and gentleman, please welcome The Crew, featuring Kellie Price to the DTE Energy Music Theatre."

As Kellie walked out on stage the crowd roared. Jessie was in awe at the sight of her being so close he could almost touch her. Noah didn't recognize her at first as he applauded a bit then relaxed in his seat. 

With the strum of her guitar and the first words out of her mouth, Noah bolted in his seat. "Oh my God! It can't be, can it? She looks familiar and I know I've heard that voice before tonight."

"Before we begin I'd like to say how good it feels to be back home again. I would like to send a special welcome to CoolSingleDad and his son." 

Her opening song was a dedication, "This song is dedicated to people from my past; those who believed in me and those who never gave me a second look. The song is titled, People Change."

As Kellie began to sing, her words were heard clearly. It was then that Noah knew who she was, but still had no clue about Jessie's plan. Because of not having a current photo of Noah, Kellie concentrated on the front row, especially to the few adult males that had a child sitting beside them. 

As she sang her dedication to the crowd, Noah had flashbacks of how he and others treated her. He knew his life wouldn't have changed any because he was in love with Jessie's mom, but he thought perhaps Kellie's life could have been better if her classmates, including himself, would have acted differently toward her some fifteen years back.

"It's time sir," a security guard said nudging Noah and Jessie. "Follow me please," he said as he led them backstage just as the band's last song ended.

"Shit! I hope she doesn't remember me. I hope to God she doesn't recall that we know each other," Noah prayed to himself as he and Jessie were seated backstage in Kellie's small dressing room. Noah fidgeted with his crinkled ticket stub even more when he heard her voice as she thanked the crowd and said good night. 

"I can't believe how much she has changed. If I didn't recognize the voice I'd swear it wasn't her, but she has one of those sexy voices a guy doesn't soon forget."

Kellie had changed. Her figure filled out, well not filled out in the sense of being full figured, but rather that she had well defined hips and breasts. Her hair was still long, but now had body and an actual style. It no longer hung in her face when she bent over and as she moved around on the stage it bounced. 

Her smile was sexy; her lips still full, but not from braces or big teeth. Her thin lanky frame had turned into this sexy, toned body, which caught many a man's eye; including Noah's and Jessie's even if he was too young for her.

Her appearance wasn't the only thing that changed since high school. Kellie was on her own now, well sort of. She had her own band now. Times with Slim and the gang didn't last long. After the recording session and a few more gigs she was contacted by a recording label and asked if she ever considered going solo. 

>>>

Winter 1996

Kellie rushed to unlock her front door hearing the phone ring off the hook. "Hello," she answered breathless.

"Good afternoon Ms. Price. This is Mr. Stillwater. Capitol Records would like to sign you on." The studio asked if she had an agent yet and if she would think about leaving the geek group. 

They were quite interested in her talents, but not the other members. When the guys caught wind of this information they were livid and within a few months the band fell apart.

"I can't believe we got her this far and now she's calling it quits. What a bitch!" Slim said as he tore up all the songs she had written and left in Nick's garage.

>>>

Summer 2007

"Well hello there, you must be CoolSingleDad? I have been looking forward to meeting you for a long time now," Kellie said as she took a seat between Noah and Jessie on the long sofa.

Jessie was speechless. All he could do was stare at the woman beside him and point toward his dad. Jessie saw his dad's face and knew he had better make a run for it before things got heated. He stood, turned to Kellie and shook her hand then excused himself to use the bathroom. After his son's interruption Noah gained control of the situation and introduced himself.

"Ah, yes. I know exactly who you are. I'm just amazed that a guy like you could have a son this wonderful." Kellie said to Noah, a slight hint of anger in her voice.

"I—umm—Kel…" Noah stammered, his mouth not exerting what his brain told him to say. "Kellie," he began again, "You were great out there tonight. I never knew you could sing like that. You've sure made a name for yourself since those ugly years back in high school. Not saying that you were ugly. Oh that didn't come out right."

Kellie listened to Noah's words and when he finished she told him, "Well I have to tell you, I wouldn't change a thing now. The way people treated me back then made me what I am today. The bullies and name callers gave me a reason to better myself. 

I stopped associating with everyone from that school the day after the prom, but I often wondered what happened to the popular kids. I did hear that you and your girl married right after graduation. I knew that would happen, just not so soon. So, how is she?"

Jessie watched from the door for a while to make sure the situation wouldn't go back toward him and his behavior. When he heard Kellie ask about his mom he figured it was safe to return to the room, but instead of sitting between them he sat in the chair at the dressing table.

"She's no longer with us," Noah said quietly as he bowed his head. 

Jessie could see the pain in his dad's face and finished the conversation for him, "my mom was killed in a car accident a few months after I was born. My dad raised me all by himself after that." 

Kellie voiced her condolences, offering a hug to Noah and then to Jessie. 

"It was hard at times and I even thought of giving him up a couple times, but then I would hear Meg's voice and she would give me courage to continue."

"Well, you've done a marvelous job with Jessie. I can see you in his eyes." 

"Um—Excuse me Kel—I mean Ms. Price, I need to talk to you outside," Jessie said insecurity in his voice. Kellie followed after him as he ran out of the room. 

"What's going on here Jessie?" she asked with concern.

Jessie confessed the entire plan, "He's the best dad! That's why I did what I did and why we are here tonight. I put that ad in online because my dad needed to get out of the house and spend more time with adults, especially a lady. 

When I read that you were coming to town I hoped you might see the ad and respond, and you did! It was me you were chatting with, but I didn't say anything different than what my dad would have said. He likes all the things I told you."

Jessie poured his heart out when he confessed to the set up, hoping Kellie would understand and then get Noah to understand Jessie had his Dad's best interest in mind at the time.  Kellie hugged Jessie and convinced him to go back and face his dad. After she was seated Kellie told Noah, "This is one very special young man you have here. It's not every kid that would go to such lengths to please his old man."

Noah, stunned, sat up and looked over at his son. Jessie slouched back in his seat knowing his dad would want an explanation of all this especially Kellie's last comment.

"Noah, the look on your face tells me you really have no idea what's going on here tonight. Jessie set all this up without telling you about anything."

Jessie was silent, frozen in his chair offering no explanation.

"Well Noah, it seems that Jessie has been advertising in the local papers and on the internet for a suitable single woman for you. I came across the ad and we chatted for a while. 

"Actually I thought I was chatting with an adult male looking for some fun. I told Jessie that we could meet tonight. I take it that he had no idea that we have met before," Kellie snickered.

"No, how could I tell him that when I had no idea I was going to see you tonight myself?"

Noah glanced sternly toward Jessie, but soon his stern look appeared gentle and he walked over to hug his son. "You can be a real pain sometimes, but I have to agree with Kellie on this one; you sure are a special kid. I can't believe you did all this for me."

Jessie's fear turned to laughter when his dad released the embrace. "So is anyone besides me hungry? I say we blow this place and go grab something to eat!" Jessie said excitedly, trying to lighten to mood.

"Sounds good to me," Kellie agreed. The plans were set as they walked out of the building toward her limousine. "Would you like a ride to your car?" she offered.

"No, tha--," Noah began to speak, but Jessie interrupted him and jumped into the limo after Kellie took her seat. 

"Well I guess that answers your question now doesn't it?" Noah said with a smile and followed his son's lead.

"Our vehicle shouldn't be difficult to find at this hour," Noah said jokingly as he looked at his watch seeing so much time had passed since the concert ended.

The driver spotted the vehicle and stopped beside it. "We'll follow you, so wherever you decide to go eat will be fine with me," Kellie said as she watched Noah and Jessie get into their vehicle.

"Oh dad, she is so cool, isn't she?"

"Yes she is, son."

Kellie had her driver follow Noah as he searched for an open restaurant, finally locating a Ram's Horn not too far from his house. Noah told Jessie about how he knew Kellie and had his son promise he would never treat anyone that terrible. Jessie agreed and hoped his dad learned a lesson there.

The meal started out quiet and Jessie worried that his plan wasn't going to work out this time either. "I have to do something to get them interested in each other again," Jessie thought to himself and excused himself from the scene once more.  

He walked to the bathroom and then slipped back around the corner heading for the jukebox on the far side of the room. The jukebox resembled an old one he had seen in a magazine, but this one played compact discs instead of vinyl records. He pulled out a dollar bill from his pocket and panned through the song list. Finding a song he thought would be perfect; he inserted the money and pushed the appropriate buttons. A simulation of a record dropping could be viewed from the front as Kellie's number one hit "People Change" began to play.

Jessie stood back for a while when he noticed his dad singing to Kellie and she gazed in his eyes. "Oh Kellie, I have changed so much since those horrible days when we were kids. I hope you can forgive me. I have to admit, I did see something in you back then, but of course I had to stay away because of what my friends would think and say about me. 

I wasn't as strong as you. I would have been so embarrassed to hear kids talk about me like that as I passed by them. I had to be cool, don't ask me why. I've wondered if Meg would have married me if I hadn't been with the 'cool' crowd. I don't want that to change because then I wouldn't have Jessie. I have also wondered what things would be like now if I would have just spoken to you."

"Well, Noah, it would have been nice to have more friends back then, but then again as I said at the concert, you guys shaped my life. Things might have turned out totally different if I were in your crowd. 

I love my life now. I have a great future ahead of me, but I have to admit, it would be nice to someday settle down and have a family. I envy those girls who settled down early after school and now have kids and some even have grand kids!"

Noah sat patiently as Kellie spilled her guts to him. Admitting all her mistakes, fears and insecurities. When Jessie noticed the conversation coming to a close he returned to the table. His eyes were bloodshot and it was well past his usual bedtime. 

"Oh my, what time is it Noah?" Kellie asked glancing at Jessie's tired face. "We've been here talking for almost three hours, can you believe it? You should probably get him home so he can get some sleep. I'm sure he's had a full day with all the planning he did for tonight," she said with a quiet giggle.

"Although I don't want the night to end you are probably right, Kellie," Noah said with a slight yawn himself. "I'll see you out to your limo and then come back in for Jessie," Noah added as he patted his son's head and reached for Kellie's hand. 

"I would rea- -," they said in unison. "You first," Noah said. 

"No it's okay, finish what you started Noah," she replied, smiling.

"As I was going to say, I would really like to see you again! Perhaps the next time you are in town?"

"Well isn't that just perfect? I would like to see you again too and I will be in town, I mean home for the next six months. I don't have another concert scheduled until after the release of my next album!" Kellie said excitedly. She leaned into the limo and returned with a slip of paper with her phone number on it. "Call me when you get a chance!"

She leaned in toward Noah and tucked the note in the pocket of his shirt then rose to her toes and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad I waited for you," she whispered against his neck and he pulled her even closer.

"I'm glad I married Meg and had such a sneaky kid like Jessie or I might have never seen you again. I will definitely call the first chance I get," Noah said and then pulled her in for a tender, yet electrifying kiss on her lips.

>>>

Noah returned to the table to get his son and they drove home in silence. Jessie was too tired to talk and Noah had his mind on other things, or should I say he had his mind on someone else. Jessie went straight to bed when they arrived home, but Noah still unable to get Kellie out of his mind, decided to give her a call.

"Hello?" 

"Is this too soon? You said to call the next time I got a chance. Well, I couldn't wait 'til tomorrow. I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, you didn't wake me and I'm happy to see that you finally learned how to read between the lines."

>>>

Noah and Kellie talked through the night and were still on the phone when Jessie woke the next day.

"Shhh, keep it down, I'm on the phone," he said in a tone slightly above a whisper as his son grabbed breakfast.

Jessie grinned when he noticed his dad still in the clothes he wore to the concert; even his jacket was still on. Jessie gave the two thumbs up signal and took his breakfast back to his room.

>>>

Noah and Kellie were inseparable during her tour break. When she was on tour they spoke as often as possible, occasionally playing phone tag if missing a call. Noah's favorite calls were late at night when Kellie would call him, "Hello. What are you wearing right now?" She'd ask in a sensual whisper. 

"Well hello love," Noah would respond and then continue the conversation. "I'm sitting here in my birthday suit. Jessie is out with his buddies. He won't be home 'til tomorrow." There was a moment of silence and then he continued again. "The fireplace has a roaring fire and I'm lying on the floor dreaming of your hands on my body. What are you wearing?"

"Oh love, I'm wearing your favorite teddy. My breasts fill out the top nicely when my nipples are hard, mmmm," Kellie exhaled slow and deep.

"Are you wet?" 

"Yes! I was wet the moment I picked up the phone. This teddy was becoming uncomfortable and I had to release the snaps so my pussy could breathe. I hope you don't mind."

"No, no. I don't mind at all. I want you to touch yourself and tell me what it feels like, love."

"God Noah, I'm so wet," Kellie moaned, her fingers grazing along her labia. "I need to feel you inside me."   "Yeah, baby, I can feel your hot pussy wrapped around my throbbing cock," Noah grunted out, his hand wrapped around his hard shaft, stroking slowly.   "Mmmm," Kellie breathed. "You feel so good. Fuck me harder," she added, pushing two fingers inside herself and rubbing her thumb gently along the hard nub of her clit.   "So tight," Noah moaned, his eyes closed and his head thrown back, the phone balancing between his shoulder and his ear. "I want to hear you come, baby."   Kellie increased her movements, thrusting her fingers deep as her climax began to wash over her. "I'm ---- gonna ---- come," she moaned, her body tensing while her hips continued to move with her hand. Her eyes closed and she imagined Noah here, in the bed with her, bringing her over the edge of bliss.   "That's it," Noah breathed, "Let yourself go." His orgasm was only seconds away and when he heard Kellie scream out his name as she came, his body tensed and he watched as thick ropes of his pearly white seed shot into the air and landed on his stomach, chest and legs. "Ahhh --- Kellie," he sighed, his breathing ragged.   "I can't wait to get home, Noah," Kellie sighed, her body humming from the quick but powerful orgasm. 




How Do You Like Me Now?



"Oh, it's late love. I will show you when you return; but until then, break a leg and know how much I miss you and await your presence in my bed. Good night for now and sweet dreams," Noah said and then the line went silent.

The remainder of her tour Kellie was skeptical about Noah's true feelings for her. "Maybe I went too far too fast with the phone sex?" It wasn't long before she was due to return home and her doubts grew even more when the phone tag started once again.

The next time she came home from the West coast tour Noah had a huge surprise for her and Jessie. "C'mon boy, we can't let her see the house like this," Noah said as he and Jessie rushed around cleaning at the last minute.

Kellie had left a few more messages for Noah, still worried that he didn't feel the same way she did. As she sat quietly in her living room, she thought about Noah and how she's felt about him all these years. 

Her phone rang, startling her out of her daydreams. Glancing at the caller ID, she saw it was Noah. "Hello," she answered, her voice shaky with nervousness. This was the first time they'd actually spoken to each other since the night he didn't answer her question. 

Noah was as nervous as Kellie, but not for the same reason. He was afraid she would have other plans because of the short notice and all, but when she agreed to his invitation his fears eased.

"Kellie's coming over for dinner tonight. I was going to take her to a nice restaurant, but she made a reference to how much she missed a good hearty home cooked meal so I decided to have her come here instead. After dinner, I want you to make yourself scarce, got it?"

"Sure thing dad. Sounds like you got something up your sleeve. You been taking pointers from me?"

"Yeah, pointers from a kid, I don't think so, but I do have a special evening planned and it's an evening for adults though. No offense, son."

"None taken dad. I will go to Stewie's house for the night. We have an unfinished game of war from the last time I was there. I'll call him right now just to make sure it's okay with his mom."

>>>

"Bye dad. Stewie's mom is here. She said it would be better to pick me up before dinner. They're going to her sister's for somebody's birthday and said I could come along. Have fun with Kellie, if ya know what I mean?" Jessie shouted as he gathered his backpack and ran down the stairs and out the front door when his ride arrived.

"Have a good time son," Noah said to unseen ears just as the doorbell rang.

"Oh wow! Look at you!" Noah said; a broad smile covered his face as he locked eyes with Kellie standing on the porch.

"Um -- Ahem. Are you going to let me in?" Kellie asked with a slight giggle as her voice pulled Noah back to reality and he opened the door.

"Mmmm, something smells wonderful. I'm starving. I had the driver go non-stop from the hotel so I could get back to you faster." 

"Well, don't just stand there, come on in and have a seat. Dinner will be ready shortly. I hope you don't mind pork chops and rice."

Kellie and Noah chatted about general events each had missed while they were apart. She asked where Jessie was and stated that she missed him. Noah had a blazing fire in the fireplace along with champagne and two flute glasses on the end table beside the sofa. When Kellie became comfortable Noah stood and offered her a glass of the sparkling bubbly. 

"What's the special occasion?"

Noah handed Kellie her glass and to avoid ruining his surprise announced that dinner was ready and escorted her to the dining table.

After eating and clearing the table Noah brought out two small dessert saucers, each containing an elegant slice of cake and a fork. "Dig in," he said placing the saucer in front of her.

Fear built in Noah as Kellie devoured the cake and only had one bite left. He feared he'd confused the saucers during transfer from the kitchen to the dining table. The heavy weight lifted when she attempted to scoop up the remaining bite and it fell off her fork, revealing the not so shiny gold band staring her in the face.

Noah reached over, picked up the ring and washed it off before standing and walking over to Kellie's side. He got down on one knee and took her left hand in his. 

"Kellie my love. I have something for you. You have changed my life more than you realize. I love you, my son loves you and if you'll have us, I would be honored if you would marry me."

Noah's words were clear and distinct as he asked for her hand. Kellie couldn't speak. This was totally unexpected, they had only dated less than a year, but she knew now that he loved her as much as she loved him. She has loved him since high school, even after the way he treated her, but she forgave him for that long ago.

"Oh Noah, I love you too." She said as he placed the ring on her finger. The gleam and sparkle mesmerized her and only when Noah's hand trembled did she answer his question. "Oh God! Yes! I will marry you!" She leaned in and placed a passionate kiss on his lips, feeling his arms wrap around her and pull her closer. "Mrs. Noah Peters, oh I really like the sound of that!"

>>> 

The End

As always, a special thanks goes out to michchick98 for the final edit before submitting. I missed not having you there for moral support with different ideas, but then again that wouldn't have been fair to either our readers or us.



How Do You Like Your Coffee?



Chloe_552: Hi babe 

x-Bones: Oh, hey beautiful nice to hear from you. How are ya'? 

Chloe_552: mmmm, I'm good. Guess what? 

x-Bones: IDK, what? 

Chloe_552: You know that thing you've wanted me to do? I finally got the nerve last night and I did it. 

x-Bones: Awesome! So when can I expect your boobs in my inbox? 

Chloe_552: <laughs> when hell freezes over! No, not that you goof, the other thing. 

x-Bones: What other thing? You've had me holding out for boobs for a while now. Tease. 

Chloe_552: Maybe soon babe, just not yet. But you know that thing you told me about, your thing with voices. 

x-Bones: Oh? Yeah? I remember. 

Chloe_552: Oh, yeah. I took my vibrator out for a play session and thought what the fuck. I'd record myself. Jesus, what a turn-on too, felt so dirty and mmmmm, so good. I may have hammed it up a little for you also. <winks> 

x-Bones: Yummy! 

x-Bones: So... uhm, when do I get to listen? 

Chloe_552: I found a tumblr site that where I can post the audio completely anon, I'll let you know when it's up. 

x-Bones: Wait, what! You're gonna' make me wait? Seriously! That's not... nice. 

Chloe_552: Yes and yes <winks> 

x-Bones: You're such a fucking tease! 

Chloe_552: Hah! Of course, and you know you love it too. Gotta' go know. TTYL <3 

x-Bones: Ok, bye babe - let me know when it's up? I'm dying to hear it. xoxoxo 

Chloe_552: I know. <smiles> Bye xoxoxo 

-- 

Hi - I'm Jack and I'm just an ordinary guy. I work at a small coffee shop and have for the past couple of years. Oh, and I screw around with the guitar, occasionally picking up a gig or two for a little extra cash. Coffee shop pays the bills and buys my books. Outside the coffee shop you wouldn't recognize me at all. I'm an average guy, not too tall or really great looking, I sort of blend into the crowd. I'm friendly and enjoy nice banter with a few regulars. One of them, Katie, an English ex-pat from Newcastle comes into the shop two or three times a week. Katie is really attractive, shoulder length reddish blonde hair and grayish eyes. She's also quick witted and keeps me on my toes. 

When we first met, I'd fucked up her coffee. Well, she was ordering for some friends and I got confused with her accent a little and everything. It was embarrassing but quickly resolved and she's nice to me (now). Whenever I see her, she'll smile and ask for a coffee brewed, "the annoying British way". Her words, not mine. What she really wants is a double Americano - two shots of espresso topped off with hot water - no milk. We've developed good rapport, well enough for her to keep busting my chops over that first time we met. She says she trusts me with the Americano because it's simple and I can't screw it up. Actually, I think it's her drink of choice - she'll take it, pop the lid off, and have a sip then smile, "canny lush" in her cute Geordie accent. Canny lush means she's pleased. 

I'd never heard anyone speak Geordie before I met Katie. If you've never heard it, it sounds vaguely Scottish, but it's not at all. In fact that's where I assumed she was from, before she called me daft and corrected me. Now that I've gotten used to hearing her I can tell, it's not really Scottish at all. 

Here's the thing. Katie came into the store this morning and ordered her coffee just like always. She smiled, took the off the lid, sipped, and... 

FUCK! It's her! 

I almost fell over. 

Goddammit this is not possible. Is it? What are the odds? No way. Stop it. 

"What's gotten into you", she asked, "you look poorly all of a sudden, like maybe you've seen a ghost"? "No, uhm, I'm ok", I muttered. Have a, ah, nice day, ok? 

No way, not a chance. It can't be. I'm imagining things. 

"Well, thank you, she said and looked at me funny, I'll be going now. Take care of yourself. You'd best be here tomorrow Jack, I'll be needing my annoying British coffee!" 

Holy fuck, it is her. I think... Maybe? What do I do, what do I do?! 

"Are you sure you're ok babe? Laters - mwah!" 

Chloe? 

"Oh, sure Katie, you enjoy your coffee and I'll see you tomorrow then!" 

I may need to explain something to you. I play around a little on line. I have an anonymous, erotic tumblr site where I go by "x-Bones". I enjoy getting to know women and I'm a hopeless flirt. Oddly, I feel I'm more successful with meeting women on-line than I am in real life. Since I'm a nursing student, you'd probably think otherwise. Don't get me wrong, I've plenty of women friends at school, I'm just not you know, romantically involved with any of them. 

Lately, I've been flirting with a woman on tumblr called Chloe. We both like the same kinds of imagery - usually black and white with a vintage look. There's usually some mild bondage in our picture streams, lots of fucking and sucking and spanking and well, you get the idea. Jesus she really goes for sexy images with pearls - such a complete turn on. Now I'm hooked too. She posted one the other day, a woman, tied to a chair. All you can really see are her arms and her legs with very sexy high heeled boots, but she's tied up with several strands of pearls. She's restrained and obviously she wants to be so. When I saw that image and Chloe's comment about being tied up - oh my gods, I can't even explain how it made me feel. 

Anyway, Chloe and I obviously developed some chemistry and we started posting occasionally tagging each other with special images that we knew the other would like. Gradually our comments got flirtier and flirtier and we started messaging back and forth privately. We haven't shared images of our naughty bits with each other yet, but I think we will soon. That sort of thing usually takes time as there has to be some level of trust - it's really about sharing intimacy in a virtual relationship more so than the body parts. Anyway, our messages went from being flirty and suggestive to downright... well, you've probably heard the term "sexting"? Those sessions can get really hot between us. I've cum messaging with her and she says she has too on multiple occasions. This makes me unbelievably pleased knowing or at least believing she's fucking herself to the way I express my imagination and words. Believe me; Chloe is eloquently descriptive. I can almost tell she's getting wetter and wetter as she texts. Her words are fucking hot and really get me going (and then, I've been told I "give good phone" too). 

We also talk. We talk about a lot of things and often these talks are about things that turn us on or things we've done. It's not always sexual, but often gravitates to that direction. Sometimes these chats are almost like foreplay before making love. Recently, I'd told her a secret voyeuristic turn on of mine. Voices. I love, love, love to hear the sound of a woman experiencing pleasure. I'm not talking about affected porno whining sounds, but I mean everything: quiet little sighs, gasps, and moans. Tell me the truth, you've never been in a hotel and listened to the sex happening in the room next door? I guess there are worse things than loving to hear the sounds of pleasure from a woman. 

Well, Chloe recorded herself masturbating for me and she ended up posting it directly onto her tumblr for all of her followers to hear. I can tell you, listening to her had the intended effect on me. It was so fucking incredible. 

You can guess more or less where someone lives by their availability to messaging. I figured we were in the same time zone or close at least. She's definitely not in Oz or someplace on the other side of the world. The thing is, I think I know Chloe. I think she was in the shop today. I think Katie, my friendly English customer, is Chloe. It's the accent and her voice tone. I'm sure she's the same girl. I'm not absolutely positive, but I am pretty sure. 

Do I say something to her? Maybe we start dating? I don't think she's married - no ring at least. No clue at all if she has a boyfriend. What if Katie is not Chloe, what if she is? This could completely freak Katie out if I said something. Hell, it could freak Chloe out if I blew her pseudonymous cover. I like Katie and I like Chloe. I don't want to blow it with either one even if they are the same person. On the other hand, this could lead to something else for the two of us, if she's available or even interested. I just don't know what to do. I do know I have to hear her voice like that again. 

mmmmm... so hot 

fuck me 

oh gods 

fuck me harder 

yes, yes 

omg, it's... fuck oh fuck. 

... 

mmmm... 

x-Bones: Hi babe, your audio was so fucking hot. Thank you for making it and for sharing it. 

Chloe_552: You liked it, huh? 

x-Bones: I am not going to lie, I came pretty hard listening to it. So sexy. I was a quivering mess. 

Chloe_552: I'm glad. I came pretty hard too. Three times in fact. 

x-Bones: Really? Two I was pretty sure. But three? Wow! 

Chloe_552: Yes. Three. You clearly weren't attentive. 

x-Bones: I have to go give it another listen. Dammit! <winks> 

Chloe_552: Lol! 

x-Bones: I want you Chloe, I want to fuck you so badly. I want to feel your nails raking down my back while I hear your moan my name and whimper for more. 

x-Bones: I need to hear your gasp for breath when I begin pounding your tight pussy with my hard cock. 

Chloe_552. mmmm I want you too babe. Fuck me Mr. Bones. 

x-Bones: Hey, Chloe? 

Chloe_552: Hey, yes? 

x-Bones: I've a question for you. 

Chloe_552: Sure, ask away. 

x-Bones: So... uhm 

x-Bones: How do you like your coffee?



How Do You Like Your Eggs? Pt. 01



Hello loves!

I'm trying out something new. I don't normally write romance or contemporary, but I'm stretching my artistic reach. Yeah, that sounds good. Lol.

Anyhoo, this is a bit more light-hearted and, hopefully, humorous. Why Me? is currently undergoing some re-writes as I still haven't decided which way to take it. In the meantime, hope you enjoy my new project. It will come in several parts.

Love always,

~EJ~

***

"One more," he whispers into my ear and the rough sound of his voice slides deliciously down my spine, shifting into fire and electricity where our bodies are connected.

I mewl helplessly. His body presses me more firmly into the mattress as his cock continues its steady rhythm inside me. Pleasure rises, spirals upward, where it ignites like multicolored fireflies behind my tightly closed eyelids.

"I can't," I gasp. "No more." 

It's too much. Four hours and five (wait, is it 6?) orgasms later and I'm seriously rethinking my life choices.

He chuckles darkly in response, and I bury my face in the pillow. His teeth graze my shoulder, nipping sharply before his tongue snakes out to lave the tender flesh.

"Come on, baby, don't tap out on me now." He's taunting me. No man should ever sound so sexy.

He tricked me. He'd seemed like such a nice man a couple hours ago, when he was chatting me up in the hotel bar. Charming. A gentleman, with bright white and even teeth and sparkling deep green eyes. Otherwise I might not have agreed to this. Wouldn't have thought to go any further than what I was already doing - playing dress up, pretending to be some other woman. Someone sure and certain. Someone classy and self-possessed in her sky-high heels and crimson sheath dress.

I wonder, fleetingly, where that dress is right now, but a slow roll of his hips brings me back, causes me to clench tight around him. I dig my nails into the mess of rumpled sheets around us. One of his large hands snakes beneath me, finds my clit as if they've been best friends for years, and I buck back at him. I can't come again. I think if I do, I might actually die.

He's having none of my denials. I'm caged in beneath his long, lean body. His knees on either side of mine and his slickly sliding cock keep me pinned in place. The steady strumming of my clit draws pants and groans from the very depths of my body.

Fucking hell...

"One more and I'll consider letting you sleep." His voice is still teasing, yet there's a tight, breathless quality to it that lets me know he's also very close to the edge. The sound of it sends me closer and closer to what I'm certain will be another mind-numbing orgasm.

Turning my head against the pillow, I suck in air sharply as I try to speak around the pleasure, around the fullness of his cock. "What *gasp* manner *squeak* of demon mmnnhh are you?"

Another laugh, another fluid roll of his hips sends my cunt spasming. 

"The best kind, baby," he rumbles, just before picking up speed and pounding me into sweet, wet oblivion.

***

Two and a half more hours and I'm out of this place, away from this migraine inducing candlelight and the snobby upper crusts who can barely stand the sight of me, much less me handling their dinner plates.

Okay, I'm being mean and moody. Not myself. I haven't really been myself for a couple weeks now, not since my night with 'King Cock'. That's what I call him now, the man who fucked me to shreds in his swanky hotel suite 16 days ago.

He said his name was Nathan. It might very well be. I don't know. I hadn't given him my real name, so I'm only assuming he hadn't given me his real one. Either way, that man knocked something loose in me that night and I've been scrambling to right myself ever since.

It wasn't supposed to end that way, though I'm not complaining.

Ten years ago, long before she got married and starting popping out kids left and right, my best friend, Anaya, and I would play this game. Once a month we would splurge on really nice clothes, the nicest we could afford considering we were penniless college students at the time, and take ourselves out on the town. We called it 'Playing Pretend' (don't judge us), and we went to the classiest bars and clubs we could find. 

We imagined we were other people; we gave ourselves fake names and even back stories. We danced with abandon, chatted with men who wouldn't normally give us the time of day, though we never accepted their inevitable offers. For us, a couple of kids who grew up poor, and whose lives were laced with the monotony of school, working and living, it was exciting and refreshing. 

Times change, as they often do. We grew up and, somewhat, apart. I'm a librarian, and a part-time waitress. Anaya's got a family - a man who adores her and kids they are both over the moon about.

Me? I've got my jobs, my books, my... well, shit. So...

Two weeks ago, feeling old and lonely and, totally on a whim, I decided I wanted to break up the monotony and step out of the mundane for a few hours. I bought a dress, a deep, seductive red sheath which set off my dark, honey-and-almonds skin to perfection, and showed off what little bit of curves I possess.

I spent an hour on my hair and makeup - plucking and pulling and tugging - and in the end, an alter ego had emerged, someone completely different from the sensible shoe wearing waitress/librarian I was by day. Every day. Always. For eternity. This other me oozed grace and sensuality. Her full, pouty red lips were the epitome of temptation. I looked fucking amazing. 

I was wound up so tight with excitement and anticipation, I thought the top of my head might blow off before I even set foot outside my front door.

Fast forward to the Linden Towers. Sitting at the corner of the bar, nursing a glass of white wine. I like red, but this particular alter ego prefers white. 

The place was cool and dim. Smooth jazz played softly over the hidden sound system, loud enough to be heard, but low enough not to be drowned out by voices raised in conversation. Such a cliché, right?

Two hours passed and I was hit on by at least 4 different men, the last of which I'm certain thought I was a high-class hooker. I watched him huff away in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar, laughing quietly to myself. I hadn't felt so good in so long.

"Well, I think you might have hurt that poor man's feelings."

The voice came from my left, deep and smooth as whiskey, with a hint of an accent I couldn't immediately place. Southern almost, but not quite.

I turned on the high stool and locked eyes with the most handsome man I'd encountered all night. He was much taller than my 5'7". His shoulders beneath the line of his dark blue suit jacket were wonderfully broad and straight. He smiled and it was startlingly bright and even. Slightly cocky, though open and completely disarming. Emerald eyes took me in without barely moving an inch.

He was the kind of handsome that almost made me forget why I was there and what I was doing. Who I was pretending to be. I picked up my wine glass and took a long, slow sip in an attempt to cool the flames flickering to life in the pit of my stomach.

"That man thought I was an escort," I replied, hoping I sounded much more calm and collected than I felt. Butterflies were battering my insides, large and heavy-winged. "I don't know whether to be flattered or offended."

The stranger inclined his head toward me and a hank of dark, softly curling hair fell across his forehead. "Definitely flattered. You're fucking beautiful."

I narrowed my eyes at him. He laughed and shook his head.

"That wasn't a line, I swear."

I returned his laugh and took another sip of my wine. 

Without being prompted, he took the seat next to me. He leaned in close, motioned with his head for me to do the same. Against my better judgement, I did and was immediately assaulted by the scent of his cologne. It was light, though warm and enticing. It swirled around me, conjuring images of tongues slipping languidly along bare skin under wavering shafts of moonlight.

When he spoke, his voice was low. "If I were to run a line on you, I'd ask what you wanted for breakfast in the morning."

My breath hitched and I might have fallen off the bar stool if I hadn't tightened my thighs over the seat and hooked my heels over the rungs. It was a line, of course. Spoken in that roughened voice, and coupled with the way he smiled at me, soft and full of knowing and dark promise, caused my nipples to grow tight beneath the thin fabric of my dress. My pussy wept for his attention.

"That's a good one," I conceded.

His eyes searched my face, lingering a long time on my blood red lips. Unconsciously, I licked them and could swear his gaze darkened. The soft strains of a saxophone wound around us, filling the brief silence with its haunting, seductive melody.

For a long moment, we merely watched each other. His scent beckoned me closer, as did the warmth of his skin over the small distance separating us. Somehow I managed to remain in my seat, if not at the very edge of it.

"I'm Nathan," he said, suddenly.

I almost gave him my real name, so lost was I in the spark of his eyes, the thump of his pulse where I could see it beating steadily beneath the skin of his throat.

"Jade." Yes, Jade. Jade was mysterious. Jade drank white wine. Jade wore red dresses and played delicious games of cat and mouse with stunningly handsome men in hotel bars.

He rolled the name around on his tongue. "Well, Jade, how do you like your eggs?" He was serious, no hint of a smile on his full, pink lips.

I laughed and it was a small, nervous sound. "You're gonna cook for me?"

His fingers found mine, slipping easily beneath them where they lay on the bar top. I looked down and there was something about how my small hand rested over the back of his large one that set my heart racing in an erratic, staccato rhythm.

"Can't cook here, but I can order the hell out of room service."

This man was too much - too handsome, too charming without even trying, and too sure of himself and the power of his words. And, damn, if he didn't have me off balance, contemplating doing something I said I would never do.

Jade was supposed to be coy and aloof. The real me, the one who watched cartoons and ate cereal for dinner in her underwear, and only thought of men like Nathan when I was getting myself off, was suddenly a needy, wet mess.

And, I knew I needed to take my ass home.

Before I could get my shit together, before I could find the proper words to politely bow out of this night, Nathan slipped surprisingly gracefully off his barstool. He gave my hand a small tug.

"We'll worry about the eggs in the morning," he said, his grin telling me he knew there was absolutely no way I was turning him down.

I should have. 

We all know the truth.

With our fingers still linked he pulled me gently, though firmly, out of the bar. The next few moments were a blur of light and the sharp click of my heels against immaculate marble floors.

Inside the elevator, he tucked me in against his side. One long arm circled my waist. His thumb traced lazy, dizzying patterns over my hip bone. He was silent, watching the digital numbers that marked our ascent. His smell surrounded me, lulled me into a near weightless sort of stupor.

We reached his floor and I followed wordlessly at his side, vaguely aware of the opulence around me. The swipe of a keycard allowed us entry into his room. There was no time to take notice of my surroundings, for as swiftly as we'd entered the room, we were heading to the bedroom. Nathan moved with certainty and determination, a sureness I could only pretend to possess. It was exciting, and slightly off-putting, though not unpleasant.

Once inside, he pulled me to him. 

When his lips slanted over mine, I startled, then immediately melted. He tasted like whiskey and rain. Alluring. Staggering. He tasted like sin.

It wasn't the type of kiss I had expected. It was slow and exploratory, tongues looping and licking in a languid dance that urged me closer, deeper. His teeth nipping at my bottom lip coaxed a soft moan from me and he hummed low in his throat in response. The fire he'd started in me down at the bar was swiftly growing into a blaze.

"You taste sweet," he murmured, his breath fanning hotly over my cheek. "Bet you taste sweet everywhere else, too."

Oh, this guy. Any other time I might have had a witty reply, but I couldn't think beyond his kiss, beyond the slide of my zipper down my back as his fingers skillfully disengaged it. 

He bowed his head and sealed his lips over the jumping pulse in my neck. I was mesmerized by the gentle pull of his mouth. My dress slipped down. It hung precariously at my hips before sliding further and settling with a soft rustle of fabric at my feet. With his hands at my shoulders, he guided me backward, mindful that I didn't trip over the discarded dress. 

My list of one night stands isn't a long one. My experiences with them generally culminated in the rough meeting of flesh and, if I was lucky, an orgasm or two for my troubles. This, however, was drastically different. His lips and tongue followed the path his fingers marked over my body. His touch was reverent, though there was a hint of tension in him that said he was keeping himself in check. I wanted it, craved the shadow of hunger which caused his fingers to tense. I sighed at the slight pressure of his teeth in my skin.

He settled at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over me as he loosened his tie and shrugged out of his jacket. He tossed them aside carelessly.

I stood before him in my matching black strapless bra and tight boy-cut panties, which he carefully, though quickly, stripped away from me, leaving me in my heels. 

I liked the way he looked at me, the darkness in his emerald eyes, the appreciation. He leaned in and kissed the soft slope of my stomach. His tongue traced a hot path up my torso, swiped briefly at the underside of one tear drop shaped breast. I arched my back, offering him more, but he appeared to have other things in mind.

"How about a ride, sweetheart?" 

With his hands still at my hips, he leaned back and tugged me with him. At his gentle, wordless urging, I slithered up the long line of his body until my knees were on either side of his head. Excitement thrilled through me. Those green eyes peered up at me from between my dark thighs, slightly challenging, and I felt his warm breath tickling my cunt. I was wet, had been long before he'd led me to this room, and I caught the scent of my arousal, dark and slightly spicy, the smell of a woman more than ready to be fucked. He blew on me, and I shuddered.

"Watch me," he commanded, a moment before his tongue flicked out to tease the swollen folds of my sex. 

I jerked and might have pulled away had he not locked his hands over the tops of my thighs. The pleasure was immediate and sharp, skittering over my skin and settling in a pulsing warmth behind my clit. I sighed, and moaned softly. His tongue coasted through my wetness, parting me for his slick invasion. 

His tongue was thick and hot. He used it to circle the outer edges of my cunt, round and round, flicking it upward so it barely grazed the bottom of my clit. When I began to rock over him, chasing his movements, he let out a rough grunt that vibrated through my core, passion momentarily clouding his gaze. His fingers tightened to the point I thought he might leave bruises, and I didn't mind. I was melting, the beginnings of an orgasm fluttering just beyond my reach. I felt so wild and wanton, riding his face as if I did it every day. I wanted the pleasure he was giving, was enjoying being devoured in this way.

Suddenly, sharply, he yanked my hips back and sealed his full lips around my pulsing clit. I howled, the pleasure spiking, rising higher and higher until it broke over me, went crashing through me. And he didn't let up. He sucked my clit roughly, hungrily, moaning in appreciation, in encouragement. 

My body spasmed and jerked until it became too much and I lunged away from. 

I don't know how much time passed while I lay curled in the center of the bed, my forehead pressed into the mattress as I pulled in sharp, shuddering breaths. 

I was aware of the soft rustle of clothing as he rid himself of them. Then came the tell-tale crinkle of a foil packet. I squeezed my eyes shut. Waited. Toggled between being hungry for more and deliciously sated.

The bed dipped and shifted as Nathan moved in behind me. His hands coasted over the skin of my back and lower to my hips. 

"Come here, sweetheart," he murmured. I allowed him to move me, to situate me so I was on my hands and knees now before him. The heat of his thighs against the back of my own was almost scorching.

One large hand rested at the base of my spine. The other he used to paint wet circles over my still pulsing cunt with the tip of his sheathed dick. I moaned softly, my hips shifting of their own accord, though I was about 75 percent sure I wasn't ready for what this man was about to give me.

My wetness allowed him access, but the tightness following my orgasm created a bit of resistance. He didn't shove into me as I might have assumed. He worked himself inside inch by inch, pulling back and then plunging ahead in small, smooth thrusts. I moaned with each advance, rocked backward with each retreat, deeper and deeper until, all at once, he was inside, buried balls deep. I had never felt so full before. His cock pressed at my walls, nudged sweetly at them. I swore I could feel every ridge, every crest of it as he began to move within me.

He found his rhythm easily, slipping in sure strokes that eventually caused my arms give out on me. I turned my cheek to the mattress and allowed him to fuck me. His thrusts were steady. Deep. Riding that delightful boarder between pain and pleasure. I bore down on him and his fingers flexed at my hips.

"You take my cock so good, baby," Nathan said, slightly breathless, his voice thick and much more rough. "You feel so fucking good inside. So hot and wet and tight." His nails raked lightly down my spine and almost came undone.

"Fuck... nnnhhh..." I huffed. Pleasure coiled tightly in my stomach, dark and sweet and pounding. My clit throbbed with every light tap of his balls against it. 

"Come for me. Come for me so I can lick it all up again."

That's what did it - those filthy words and the image it conjured. My back bowed as the orgasm whipped through me, my whole body tightening and releasing simultaneously, and it spurred him on, splintering whatever bit of control he had left. His thrusts became sharper, harder. He powered into me, forced me to ride the hot wave of pleasure he had created in me, pushing me higher and higher, and using the handle of my hips to pull me backward onto his driving cock.

He chanted his own pleasure, growling and groaning as he barreled toward his own release, encouraging me to give him more of me, all of it.

"Yes, baby," he rasped. "Just like that. Fuck, yes! Just like that! Give it to me!"

I was yanked up suddenly, one strong arm banded below my breasts, the other around my waist as he continued to fuck me, bouncing me now on his dick, following me on the downslope of my orgasm. And I took it, my head thrown back as I panted out high pitched moams that ricocheted off the ceiling.

When he came, he buried his face in the side of my neck and panted his release into my skin. He throbbed inside of me, his hips still rocking in a tight, jerky rhythm, and I squeezed around him, milking his cock for everything it could give.

He held onto me long after we had both come down. I felt his heart beating at my back, a strong, steady rhythm which nearly matched my own.

***

Thirty minutes before closing time and I'm finally able to shake off some of the memories. Some. Not all. My body remains wired and my mind continually flashes back to every lude image it can recall. Several times I'm forced to take a deep breath to steady myself and refocus on what I'm supposed to be doing.




How Do You Like Your Eggs? Pt. 01



I shouldn't be so hung up on this man. Sure, the sex was good. No. It was phenomenal. Nathan was a generous and ravenous lover. I didn't leave unsatisfied. But, it was just a one-night stand. There is no chance I'll ever see him again. From the looks of his hotel room, Nathan is the type to frequent places like that, while I'm the type to work in them. 

And those were the thoughts which pushed me out of bed that morning. 

At a little past 7am, Nathan slipped out of bed to take a shower. I waited until I heard the water running and scuttled around like a mad woman, gathering my clothes and stumbling into them as I simultaneously made my way out of his lavish suite. I couldn't bear the inevitable awkwardness of the morning after, or the uncomfortable side-long glances. Didn't want to fight the rising hope that we could be more after only one night...

In the bright light of day, I was back to being Maxie. Just small, average, foul-mouthed Maxie.

I'm standing at the bar, waiting for my last table to finish their wine and call it a night when one of the other waitresses goes sailing by me.

"Someone out front for you, Maxie," she calls out, and is well out of earshot before I can ask who it is. I stare at her swiftly retreating form, at her bobbing blond ponytail as she moves away.

Confused, I head out front, slipping easily through the now mostly empty dining room. The candlelight is much softer now, casting winding, flickering shadows over the walls. The room is silent, save for the intermittent clink of silverware against plates and hushed female laughter.

Anyone who knows me knows where the find me on a Friday night, none of whom would have reason to swing by at such a late hour. Except Anaya, who has even less of a reason. Unless she's suddenly, inexplicably found herself husband and kid free tonight. Which is highly unlikely.

The foyer is empty when I reach the front. Either someone is playing a trick on me, or my mystery visitor has decided not to wait around. I move to the hostess stand and smile brightly at Ferrah, one of the other few women of color employed by this particular restaurant, besides myself.

"Hey, hon! Someone looking for me?"

Ferrah offers a sly smile, and my stomach does a little flop, uncertainty digging dainty fingers through my brain. A deep, familiar voice speaks up behind me and I jump, stopping just short of leaping over the hostess stand.

"Evenin', Maxie."

It can't be. There's no way! My mind whirs and clicks and then, finally, settles on static as I try to rationalize how the voice I've been imagining all night could be here, not only speaking to me, but addressing me by my real name.

I glance at Ferrah for help. The possible entertainment factor of the current situation has her lovely dark eyes wide and trained on directly on me.

I take a deep breath and turn to find Nathan standing only a few feet away from me. I hope he can't see the sudden trembling in my usually steady hands. 

He's dressed in a dark gray suit tonight, looking as mouth-watering as the last time I saw him. His dark hair, which had been a slightly disheveled mess of soft curls is now brushed back from his face, making him appear somewhat older, and no less handsome.

I think I swallow audibly.

"So, a couple weeks ago," he says, his light tone in complete contrast with the sharp gleam in his eyes, "I promised this beautiful woman breakfast and, wouldn't you know, I managed to lose track of her in the time it took me to shower." He cocks a dark brow at me. "Now, why do you suppose she would slip out on me like that, especially after all the fun we had?"

I don't miss the emphasis on the word 'fun'. His look dares me to lie, to deny what we both know to be true.

I am aware of Ferrah still watching, waiting. Shock and embarrassment warm my cheeks, and places much lower, if I'm honest.

"Um... Sir..." I begin, and then stop, unable to find adequate words to get myself out of this mess. Am I supposed to deny knowing him and look like a total basket case, or do I admit to knowing him and risk being the topic of sordid discussion among my fellow wait staff members?

"Sir?" Nathan drawls before I can decide, and takes a few measured steps in my direction. His smile is just as dangerous as I remember. "Sir, huh? I like that. You'll have to call me that next time I'm inside you."

My stomach tightens and Ferrah and I respond in tandem.

"Well, shit," I sigh.

Ferrah lets out a loud, barking laugh. "Uh-oh!" she chirps, and I'm sure once I'm out of sight, she'll be recounting this little interaction for anyone who'll listen.

"Would you mind stepping outside with me for a moment?" I say, trying to hold onto what little bit of professionalism and dignity I have left now that a strange man has shown up and casually alluded to having me call him 'Sir' while he fucks me.

Nathan is still smiling, and I want to scratch his eyes out just as badly as I want to kiss him. I can barely look at Ferrah as I inform her that I'm taking a break. 

I move toward the front entrance and shove out into the cool night. A gentle breeze swirls around me, bringing with it crisp leaves that dance around my feet before sending them scuttling off across the pavement. I take a few steps away, out of sight of the large glass doors and any nosey co-workers, before finally turning to look at Nathan.

I open my mouth to speak, but I'm not completely sure where to begin. Instead, what comes out is, "What the hell, man?"

He's laughing. He shoves his hands into his pockets and gazes down at me. 

"I couldn't help myself."

"How do you know my real name?"

"I asked the hostess, of course."

I blink up at him, licking my suddenly dry lips. His eyes track the movement and it stirs a bit of warmth low in my stomach.

"Were you looking for me?" I ask. "How did you find me?"

I don't know how I'll feel if he has actually come in search of me, if he admits that he hasn't been able to get me out of his head, as I haven't been able to do with him. 

A car passes on the street, blaring what sounds like old school funk.

"Funny story," he says. "I come to this restaurant a couple times a month. When I saw you at that hotel bar, I thought you looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place you. It didn't hit me until tonight, when you went gliding by my table." He pauses, peers at me closely. "I smelled your perfume first. When I looked up, I saw you. Then, I heard you laughing with some other patrons and it hit me like a ton of bricks."

He moves in close, almost invading my personal space with his warmth and his tantalizing scent. I have to lift my chin to keep my eyes fixed on his. He's much taller than me now that I'm wearing flats.

"I spent more than a few hours familiarizing myself with your body. I knew it was you."

He reaches out and uses a long index finger to push my chunky black glasses higher on the bridge of my nose. "Even with these. Which are adorable, by the way."

I am floored. And filled with a nagging sense of unease. I know it sounds crazy, and any other woman would be flattered by Nathan's proclamation, but I'm just...

In the bright glare of the streetlights, I'm aware that I'm standing in my work clothes, which probably reek of garlic, speaking to a man whose last memory of me involves a slinky red dress I'll probably never wear again. He dines regularly at the place I work, a place I can't afford to do so; he has the means to rent a room for a one-night affair in one of the top hotels in the city. Me? I'll go home to my little one-bedroom apartment with it's cheap, though reliable, furniture and thrift store baubles. 

Nathan... well, everything about him, from his carriage to the suit which looks like it probably costs more than two weeks' pay from both my jobs screams success and wealth. 

I am not Cinderella. This isn't a fairytale. I am not shallow. I am realistic. The only thing we could possibly have in common are the parts of his body which fit into mine. Hope, even if I wanted it, has no place here.

"Listen, Nathan," I begin, but the words fade away to nothing when his large, warm hand trails along my jaw, leaving tingling sparks of heat in its wake.

"If you're about to turn me away, I would urge you to rethink that, please."

His lovely eyes are soft in this light. His thumb ghosts over my lips, makes them tingle, and the warmth that had blossomed in me at the sight of him surges forcefully through my chest. My heart beats heavy, almost painfully, inside my chest. Need slithers through my stomach.

"Nathan, I'm not... I'm not the woman you met that night," I manage breathlessly.

"You are."

"I'm not."

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips and I can vividly recall what they felt like pressed into the base of my spine. 

"You think a flirty dress and a killer pair of high heels would change you so drastically?" He laughs, shortly. "Baby, the dress and the heels pulled me in, but they ain't what kept my attention."

I laugh, even though the gentle slide of his thumb across my lips is doing a number on my thought processes. "Of course not. It was my wet cunt that held your attention."

His eyes narrow. "Don't talk like that unless you want me to fuck you right here in the middle of this sidewalk, darlin'."

He might be joking. He might not be. Part of me thinks he isn't, so I bite my lip and wait for him to continue.

"The sex was astounding, sure, but I had a good time with you. Outside of the sex. More fun than I've had in quite a long time, if you know what I mean."

I do. 

He's talking about those moments in between, when he'd absently brushed a hand along my side and discovered I was maddeningly ticklish. Or, when, as we'd caught our breath after a particularly strenuous bout, I'd dazedly buried my nose in the warm, fragrant line of his neck and began humming random notes of a song I could barely recall when he'd asked me about it later. Yes, those moments. Those moments when I'd forgotten to be Jade, and Maxie had slipped out with warning.

He presses in closer and the scent of his cologne washes over, bathing me in the memories of our single night together. His palm slips along the exposed skin of my throat above the starched collar of my shirt.

"Don't get me wrong - Jade is sexy. But, you've got this innocent little librarian thing going on right now. And that's just as sexy."

This time when I laugh, it's pure and comes from the pit of my stomach.

"That's funny to you," he says. 

I nod, my laughter causing tears to well up in the corners of my eyes. "I am a librarian, Nathan. I work here part-time."

He does a slow blink, then curls his fingers around the knot of the tie at my throat, uses it to pull me in flush against him. "Hot damn, woman," he breathes against my lips. "When are you finished here?"



How Do You Like Your Eggs? Pt. 02



Hello again, loves!

So, here's the second installment. I'm already working on the third. Whoo hoo! 

I appreciate all your comments. I'm so glad you all like what you've read so far. I'm having a lot of fun writing Nathan and Maxie!

*Sigh* I feel like I'm finally getting back in the swing of things. ;)

Love always,

~EJ~

***

I would like to have it noted: I have never picked up a woman at one of my hotels.

I don't know what made me approach her that night. Maybe it was the way she was sitting – alone, watchful, though not in the way some women alone in bars often are. She didn't appear to be waiting for anyone, and every approach made by the opposite sex was easily and politely rebuffed.

Her smile in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar was sweet; her dark eyes were warm in the dim light. She seemed genuinely flattered by the attention she was receiving, even though her dress and those heart-stopping fuck-me pumps screamed, "Look at me. Lust after me. Dream of me when you're fucking your hand tonight."

It was after the fourth failed attempt that I finally approached her. Her back was ramrod straight, and one heel dangled precariously from the toes of one dainty foot. She kept touching the bridge of her nose with a slim index finger. A nervous tick, perhaps. 

She didn't fit this scene, seemed just a bit out of place in this bar built of glass and dark wood.

I had only meant to chat her up, to entertain her a bit and keep the jackals at bay, but when she turned those wide, dark eyes on me, her full lips glistening slightly from the wine she was drinking...

She looked vaguely familiar. I couldn't place it, decided I would figure it out later. Much, much later, of course. 

She was playful, though not in the way to which I'd grown accustomed. Most women know me, or at least can catch the scent of money from the cut of my suits. They're overt in their attempts at hooking me. I learned my lesson a long time ago, especially after my divorce. That woman... No. We're talking about Maxie now.

She'd mystified me even further once we'd reached my suite, the one I reserved for nights I didn't relish making the nearly hour-long drive back to my house outside the city. 

Down at the bar, she'd looked like some exotic sex kitten. Stripped bare, she was so much softer. Pliant. Sweet. Smooth, succulent curves encased in chocolate and dipped in honey. She'd purred and melted at my touch. Her reactions were so genuine and honest; I hadn't experienced that in quite a while. And being inside of her... well, that's absolutely indescribable, really. 

Whatever energy I had was focused on making her come, if for no other reason than to watch the exquisite way she shattered beneath me. It was the intensity; the high keening noises she tried to stifle; the tight, wet clutch of her cunt around me. How many times had I gotten myself off to those memories in the two weeks I had been looking for her?

God, I sound like such a pervert. 

Yet, it wasn't just those moments which had snagged in my mind. It was the warmth and weight of her arm thrown haphazardly across my chest. It was the tickle of her breath against my throat as she dozed. It was the tuneless song she'd deliriously hummed in my ear in that lazy and sated afterglow. 

She fit perfectly against my side. This was what I had been missing, though it hadn't hit me until she was gone.

She'd hooked me. Whether she knew it or not. 

In the quiet, early morning hours, feelings had churned inside me I hadn't felt in a long time - feelings I thought I'd managed to bury so deep.

Which is why I had been so pissed when I'd come out of the shower to find her gone. No note. No nothing. Just the faint scent of her perfume mixed with our sex still hanging in the air.

Go figure. 

***

I offer to give her a ride home when she's finished with work. Partly because I like to think I'm something of a gentleman, but mainly because I don't really trust her not to give me the slip again. 

She's leery of me. Perhaps she doesn't think I'll like this stripped down version of her. I'm willing to get to know her. I liked the feel of her arms around me, the press of her skin against mine. I like the chunky glasses that keep sliding down her nose.

It's a nice night so, while I'm waiting out on the sidewalk, I make a few phone calls to let my staff know I'll be unavailable for the remainder of the evening. Wishful thinking on my part, maybe, but, I'm nothing if not determined.

When she reappears, exiting the front doors with a small group of coworkers, I can tell they've been giving her hell. There's a bit of color in her brown cheeks, and she narrows her eyes accusingly at me. 

"Have a wonderful night, Maxie. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

This from the hostess, Ferrah, who had been surprisingly willing to give me Maxie's real name.

Maxie shakes her head and moves in my direction. She glances at me, then at my car, and then back at me again. For a moment, her face is unreadable.

"They give you a hard time?" I ask, deciding not to dwell on it.

She shrugs and hitches the strap of her purse higher on her arm. "No more than expected... Sir."

I don't miss the emphasis on that last word. I laugh. "Ok. I'm sorry. But, you ditched me. Hurt my masculine pride. And what not." I'm only half-joking.

She smiles, just the easy lift of one side of her full, flushed lips and desire coils in my gut. I would willingly kill a man just to feel those lips again.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt your precious, masculine pride."

"You can make it up to me by inviting me back to your place."

Her glasses glint briefly in the bright light of the streetlamps as she lifts her face to gaze more fully at me. She doesn't speak right away and I think, maybe, I've pushed my luck, but she only smiles again and nods. "Ok. Let's go."

I step back and open the passenger door for her. She slips in and I hustle around to the driver's side. 

In seconds, we're off. She gives me directions and I don't miss the nervous bounce of her knee, or the way she constantly pushes her glasses up her nose. She seems a bit unsettled. It's strange, considering I've explored damn near every inch of her body, marked them off with my tongue. 

The scent of her perfume invades the car, my senses, and I fight the urge to reach over and link my fingers through hers. To bring them to my lips.

Twenty minutes later and we're pulling up in front of an old brownstone. She says she has the basement apartment. It's a nice neighborhood. Quiet. 

She leads me down a short flight of steps and I wait while she unlocks a heavy, reinforced door.

The place is dark. The same scent which clings to her skin wafts through the air here. Warm. Comforting. Welcoming. We move down a short hall and when she reaches out to a switch on the wall, the place is illuminated by soft yellow light.

"It's not much," she says, as if she feels the need to explain. "But, it's home."

The place is small, though cozy. We're standing in the living room. The walls on the left and the right are painted a deep, vibrant purple. Straight ahead is a bookshelf/entertainment stand. The TV is an average size. The shelves are damn-near overflowing with books. I wonder if she's read them all, can imagine her curled into the corner of one of the overstuffed couches, her eyes fixed on the pages while her glasses sit precariously on the tip of her nose. 

Though, I don't know much about Maxie, the space tells me a great deal. She likes comfort and warmth. She feels safe in this place.

"Ok, so, make yourself at home. I need to take a shower. I'm sure I reek."

I look down at her. Her eyes are almost owlish behind her glasses. I want to kiss her.

"Do you want something to drink? I've got beer, tea, water or wine. I think. Actually, I'm 100% sure I've got water. The rest is 50/50." She blinks up at me. She is fucking adorable. 

"Go take your shower. Get comfortable. The rest can wait," I assure her.

She nods, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips, and I stifle the groan that rises up at the back of my throat at the sight of it.

"Ok. Well, make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in ten."

And, just like that, she's gone. I watch the sway of her hips as she moves away. She disappears into a room off to the right. A minute or two passes and I catch the faint sound of water running.

I gaze around the room, trying to decide if I'd feel bad if she caught me snooping. I've surprised myself at how interested I am in getting to know this woman - the woman in red, and the nearly demure woman in black and white. Two sides of a coin. Intriguing.

She's made some space for a few photographs on the bookshelves. There are only 3. 

The first is who I assume is a teenage version of Maxie. Her hair is longer, falling to just below her ears in a sleek black curtain. She's sitting at the feet of an older woman. Her mother, maybe. Maxie's arms are linked around the woman's legs. They're gazing at each other, and their mirrored looks of unabashed love and adoration is evident and brilliant. 

The next photo is of Maxie and a different woman. They share the same dark skin tone, but that's where the resemblance ends. They're both laughing, leaning in toward one another with obvious familiarity. Joy is exquisitely captured within the frame.

The third photo appears recent. Maxie is being tackled by three small children in a park. The shade of their skin varies from light to dark brown. They are attempting to scale her small frame. Maxie is trying, unsuccessfully, to peel them away. 

"You're still here."

She sounds surprised, and just a little bit pleased.

I turn to find her standing in the wide archway, clad in a form fitting white t-shirt and deep purple lounge pants the same shade as the walls. Her curvy figure is on full display, and the tip of my tongue presses into my top teeth at the thought of what lay beneath those casual clothes.

"You thought I wouldn't be?"

She moves deeper into the room and takes a seat on one end of the couch. She's more relaxed now that she's out of her work clothes, on her home turf.

"Honestly, I thought you'd give me a taste of my own medicine and cut out on me."

I shrug. "Now, where would be the fun in that?"

She shoves her glasses up to the top of her head, narrows her eye at me as if she's trying to focus. "Is that why you came here? For a bit more fun?"

Her questions aren't accusing or harsh, but I'm aware of the something more she's not asking. I honestly don't know what I'm looking for, why I made my presence known at the restaurant rather than letting her go without ever having known I'd been there. 

I go for the easiest answer, one that's safest for the both of us, considering the number of hours we've spent together don't even equal up to a full 24.

"I had a good time with you. I'd like to find out if we can continue to have a good time. Or, if that night was just a happy fluke."

She regards me a long moment. Then smiles and nods, apparently finding my answer to be adequate. 

Hoping to lighten the mood a bit, I point at the pictures on the bookshelf.

"Who are these folks?"

"Those," she says, pushing to her feet and coming to stand next to me. She smells. clean and delicious, sweet strawberries mixed with the soft floral scent I've come to think of as pure Maxie. "Those are my loves." 

She points to the first photo. "That's me and my mom when I was in high school." 

The second. "Me and my best friend, Anaya. I think that was junior year of college. We were probably drunk in that picture." 

The last. "And those are Anaya's kids. My godchildren. The little hellions." 

This she says with a laugh that's laced with equal parts love and frustration. Her eyes linger on the photos, then lift to meet mine.

"I never asked you. Is Nathan your real name?"

I smile and nod. Her skin seems to glow in the soft light. "Yes, ma'am, it is."

Her eyelashes flutter as she pretends to swoon. "Geez, that accent. Where the hell are you from, anyway?"

My accent. I forget about it sometimes. It slips out when I'm tired. Or angry. Or extremely comfortable, as I am right now. I've done all I can to lose it over the years but, in this moment, I like that she likes it. 

"Kentucky, originally."

"Hm."

And that's all she says.



How Do You Like Your Eggs? Pt. 03



Hello, my loves!

Again, I thank you all for taking the time to read my little love story. Thanks for all the comments.

Find below the next installment. This one's a little more racy but, hopefully, still just as romantic.

I fucking adore Maxie and Nathan right now.

Love always, 

~EJ~

***

We spend the next hour or so in easy conversation. Nothing major or particularly deep. Nathan is funny. Still supremely charming. When I talk, he's focused on my eyes or the movement of my lips, his dark brows coming together to form a shallow well of concentration. He laughs at my stupid jokes and doesn't seem to mind that I cuss so much, something Anaya has been trying to break me of since we were 14.

I make us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. I haven't had the opportunity or energy to go to the grocery store lately so, I apologize, embarrassed that the only food I have in the place seems solely fit for consumption by small children. He says it's the best he's ever eaten. Even if he's just being kind, I'm glad for it. It gets a smile out of me.

Nathan's sitting at the kitchen table now, his elbows bent and resting on the tabletop as he finishes what's left of the soup. His suit jacket hangs on the back of his chair. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up. He looks relaxed and even more handsome with his lightly tousled hair and glinting eyes. Carefree.

My gaze lingers on the lean, tanned muscles of his forearms, on the smattering of dark hair there. The sensation of those strong arms banded around my back while I rode him echoes through my body, and I nearly choke on the sip of beer I'm in the middle of taking. 

Sheesh, when did I become such a horny ass?

When he's finished - bless him, he ate every last bite - I gather our dishes and carry them to the sink, partly in an effort to be polite to my guest, but mainly because being this close to him again is doing a number on my libido. I want him. Damn, do I want him. He smells amazing - crisp and clean and completely masculine. 

There were several times over the past couple weeks I've imagined he was here with me, his big body taking up the space my small one couldn't. Anxiety and want warred inside me every night. I've chided myself on not sticking around, for not staying long enough to say... something. Anything, really. It had been so long since I'd been willing to enjoy myself, to wallow in the feel of another person's flesh against mine. Work took up most of my days, and what little time I had to myself was often spent with Anaya and the Three Little Monsters.

The fact that he'd shown up, gotten my attention when he could have easily pretended to have not known me, is some consolation. Makes me feel less cheap and desperate.

Nathan is incredibly sweet and calm. Self-assured. That accent makes me want to lick his face. It so subtle. Barely there, really. An easy, loping cadence which rolls over me in a warm, decadent wave. His voice makes me think of tall grass swaying in bright afternoon sunlight. I want to wrap myself up in the sound of it.

And the fucker owns the Linden Towers. Yes, he'd let that bit of information slip, and I'd stared at him for a long moment in absolute horror. One of the richest men in the city is sitting in my kitchen and I'm offering him grilled cheese and tomato soup! Laughable, right? 

Anaya would definitely laugh. And possibly punch me in the face for being so shallow, for allowing my own insecurities to possibly cloud my judgement so soon in this... whatever it is.

Anaya and I are from the same sad, lower-middleclass neighborhood. We lived nearly identical lives of only children raised by single, working mothers. We grew up, went to college with the same drive to never follow in our mothers' footsteps. Anaya vowed to never be poor again, by any means. 

While I didn't relish the idea of being poor, my main concern, what drove me, really, was to never be in a position that would give any man the power to be able to take anything away from me. No matter what I did, I'd decided long ago that I would never give any man the opportunity to tell me what he'd done for me.

But, I'm thinking much more than I should be right now. This man isn't offering a ring and marriage. He's offering me... fun. No harm in that. Right?

Nathan pushes back from the table and comes to stand beside me at the sink. Steam wafts up into our faces as I scrub our dishes.

"Don't clean up after me, Maxie. You just spent the night cleanin' up after people. Lemme do it."

I catch myself before I drop the bowl I'm holding and it shatters in the sink. 

Not fair. Not fair at all. So much for keeping an emotional distance.

"Tonight, you're a guest," I reply as I place both of our dishes in the drain to dry. "Next time, you're on your own."

He leans his hip against the counter. I can see his smile at the edge of my vision, teasing and just a bit lascivious. "You're already plannin' my next visit, huh?"

I hadn't realized what I'd said until he pointed it out. It's my usual line, the one I give to anyone who spends any amount of time at my place, but this time, with Nathan, it carries so much more weight and meaning. So much more possibility.

Warmth blooms in my cheeks and I wave the dish towel at him threateningly. My heart jumps inside my chest, then settles heavily when the back of his hand brushes my hip. The nerves I hadn't had an opportunity to feel that first night with him are making themselves known.

His fingers move higher, barely grazing the thin strip of flesh exposed between the hem of my t-shirt and the waistband of my lounge pants. Heat flares at the point of contact and I almost whimper. Need slithers through my stomach, heavy and sharp and ready for attention. 

I want him. Yes, dammit, I want him.

"So, are you staying, or what?" 

The words spill out before they've fully formed in my hazy brain. My voice is just this side of breathless and I bite down on the edges of my tongue.

Nathan shifts closer. His thigh softly brushes mine. He uses his fingers cupped beneath my chin to lift my gaze to his. 

"I'd like to stay." 

His green eyes have darkened; they're the color of a spring sky just before a storm, a bit of gray mixing with the green. I can feel myself getting lost in them, ignited by them. The tips of my fingers are tingling. The insides of my thighs, as well. I have a vision of myself rubbing up against him like a cat.

His full lips are flushed. 

Ripe. 

Kissable.

"Where do you want me, darlin'," he drawls. 

***

I sit on the edge of my bed, listening to the sound of running water as Nathan takes a shower. Any other time I might have been weirded out at the thought of a man I hardly know being so close to my personal things. However, there's something oddly comfortable, and comforting, in it being Nathan. In fact, it's a bit of a turn on.

When he comes out of the bathroom, a large beige towel cinched around his waist, I nearly melt into a warm, throbbing puddle next to the bed. One man should not be so gahtdamn sexy. 

He is a work of art in this low light, all sun-kissed skin and smoothly sculpted muscle. Broad shoulders and a lean waist. Strong legs and deceptively strong arms. Believe me, I know what it's like to be pinned down, caged in, by those arms.

Water glitters like tiny jewels on the skin between his pecs, enticing, begging for my tongue to clear them away. He grins that boyish grin of his and I know he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"Fucking tease," I accuse, slipping backward and tunneling beneath the blankets.

He laughs and saunters toward me. My bed takes up a great deal of the small space and he has to edge slowly around the opposite side. 

"Oh, baby, you may recall that when I tease, I definitely follow through."

This is fun, this sexually charged banter. Surprisingly easy and comfortable. That all shifts when he drops the towel, giving me the briefest view of the glory that lies beneath, and slips under the covers. 

I'm tempted to say something about him leaving his wet towel on the floor, but then he's staring down at me with those impossibly green eyes, his head resting in his hand.

"How old are you, Maxie?"

I have to swallow a few times before I can form the proper reply around the battering of my heartbeat. The image of his swinging cock is imprinted in my brain for all eternity.

"32. You?"

"39. I'll be 40 in a few weeks, actually."

"40?!?!" I practically squeal. He looks fucking fantastic. I wouldn't have pegged him as a day over 35. Slightly older man. Even more drool-inducing. Holy hell.

"What the fuck is your secret?"

"Dear God, woman," he groans, then chuckles. "I'm not much older than you."

I'm thoroughly enjoying teasing him. I like his crooked smile and the way his eyes focus on me, as if he's not sure if he wants to kiss me or cover my mouth with his hand, whatever will shut me up faster. 

"You are. You're a dirty old man. Where's your life-alert bracelet so I know who to call in case of emergency?" 

He's laughing full out now, the entire bed shaking with the force of it. I laugh with him and it feels so good. Normal. Impossibly familiar. 

"You are vicious," he says when he's finally caught his breath. He snakes his arm around my waist as if it's the most natural thing in the world, and roughly tugs me to him. His skin is warm and slick from the shower, and I'm immediately reminded he's completely naked, the only barrier between us my own stupid clothing.

He dips his head and nuzzles his nose into the soft spot just below my jaw. 

"So, tell me," he says, his breath fanning hotly over my skin, causing me to shiver involuntarily. "Why did you decide to become a librarian?"

I squirm, wanting more of his heat, his breath, his lips. This small talk could have happened while he'd been devouring four grilled cheese sandwiches at my kitchen table, not when he's holding me so tightly and his cock, which is now at full attention, is pressed into my hip.

I turn my head toward him and his lips slide lower, the tip of his tongue tracing the skin just above the collar of my shirt. I can't function when he's so close, when I'm aware of what his body can do to mine.

"I asked you a question, Maxie," he says. His fingers slip easily beneath the fabric of my t-shirt and trace smooth circles over the soft flesh of my stomach.

"Oh, um..." I gasp when his teeth sink lightly into the skin of my neck. Fucker. "Well, I'd always wanted to be a writer... mmmhh..." His hand has moved lower, his index finger tugging rhythmically at the waistband of my pants and the panties beneath them.

"What happened?" Another soft kiss, and the back of his fingers brush the patch of curls at the very top of my mound.

"Are you serious?"

There might be a bit of an edge to my tone, but who can blame me, really? All I can think about is his hand dipping lower, his fingers slipping inside me. My cunt pulses and clenches, my hips rocking with every pass of his digits.

Another laugh. He shifts, letting me feel more of him, teasing me with his proximity. 

"I'm just tryin' to get to know you. Now, tell me how 'Maxie, the Writer' became 'Maxie, the Librarian'".

I lick my lips. "Touch me, and I will."

He kisses my chin. My temple. Lazy kisses that have me leaning more fully into him. "I am touching you."

I huff, impatient and beyond needy. I'm hungry now. I need him. All of him. "You know what I mean, old man."

In the space of a breath his hand slips below the constricting fabric of my clothing and two fingers are swiftly imbedded into my cunt. 

The pleasure is sharp and immediate. Staggering. 

"Shit!" 

He twists his hand slightly, his nails grazing my wet, fluttering walls. He pumps the digits slowly and liquid heat flutters through my stomach, my chest. For a moment my brain short circuits, focused solely on the slow, delicious slide of his fingers inside my pussy.

"Tell me," he urges, and uses the heel of his hand to press down on my clit. 

I whine helplessly.

"Okay. Okay. I was never good at it... ungnnh... Shit! And, I don't have the patience. I love books. The end."

His laugh is dark and teasing. "Was that so hard?"

"Yes!"

He rises up a little higher and brushes his lips over mine.

"You're so wet, Maxie," he rumbles. "You've been ready for me, huh?"

I'm melting. I can't think past his tunneling fingers. I close my hand around his wrist, try to coax him harder, deeper - needing, more than anything, to come. 

He won't allow it. He's got his own agenda, and it, apparently, involves driving me absolutely crazy.

"Tell me somethin' else, Maxie," he murmurs. He traces the corner of my mouth with the tip of his tongue. I try to turn to meet his lips, but he pulls back a bit. I grind wantonly against his hand. I want to scream.

He follows the movement of my rocking hips, finally pressing harder, deeper. Finds his rhythm. A slow slide out and a solid push back in. "Tell me," he says, "When you ran out of my room that morning... still sticky from my come, my cologne still on your skin..."

Holy shit, if he starts up with this filthy talk again, I will surely lose my mind. My whole, entire mind. 

"Nathan," I breathe. "Nathan, please..." I don't know what I'm begging for. My brain is a muddled mess, filled with swirling deep red. Flames of arousal lick at my skin, pulse in my cunt where his fingers curl and beckon me closer.

"Tell me, baby... did you think of me later? Did you touch yourself and imagine it was me touching you? Making you come?" His voice is rough, dangerous, in my ear. He's turning me inside out and I don't think he's even trying.

"Oh, fuck...nnnhhh..." I lift my hips higher, begging, pleading for more.

He fingers plunge sharply. Roughly. I can hear the rapid thumping of my heart in my ears, can feel it in every pulse point in my body.

"I want to know if you fucked yourself and thought of me while you did it, Maxie. I want to know if you screamed my name the way you screamed it for me that night."

I'm done. I've been teetering on the edge since he started touching me, and can only gasp now as the orgasm slices through me. It forces my back to bow, and when it does, Nathan immediately latches on to my nipple through the fabric of my shirt. He bites down, adding a bit of pain to the pleasure pounding through me. With the heel of his hand still pressed against my aching clit, he pulls the pleasure from deep within me and spreads it through my limbs. My toes curl. My fingers lock around his wrist. 

I see stars. I'm not ashamed or afraid to say it. They flash and pop behind my tightly closed lids. After what seems like an eternity, I collapse onto the bed, breathing deep and heavy, and just a bit dizzy. 

Nathan pulls his hand from my pants and circles his arm around my waist once more. He places soft kisses on the slick skin of my throat while I can only whimper and try to curl myself in against his body.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says. My eyes are still closed. I can't see it, but I know he's smiling.

I feel warm and weightless, vestiges of the orgasm still rippling through me. 

He's in trouble. As soon as I catch my breath and get some semblance of control over my trembling limbs.

***

We're silent a long time while Maxie comes back down. I hold her close, inhaling the spicy sweet scent of her sex. She is absolutely stunning when she comes

My cock is hard as steel where it rests against her hip. No. Resting is definitely not the word. Every part of me wants to devour this woman, and my cock would love to lead the way. But, for now, we're willing to wait until she's somewhat back to her senses.

When she opens her eyes to gaze up at me, I nearly laugh at how glassy and distant they are. She looks sated. Almost delirious. Pretty. Pleasing her does something to me. Makes me feel big. All those wonderful words used to describe a man's pride.

She smiles softly and appears on the verge of saying something, but whatever she's about to say is silenced by my lips. She moans, low and shuddering in the back of her throat, and I dive deeper, reveling in the warm honey taste of her kiss.

This woman may very well be the death of me. Already, I can't seem to get enough of her. Desire shifts inside me, coiling tightly in my stomach.

Maxie raises up, uses a hand at my shoulder to shove me onto my back. Her lean legs bracket my hips. She gazes down at me

"That was some small talk," she says, one delicate brow arched. She swipes her tongue over her lower lip and I fight the urge to pull her down to me.

"I aim to please," I drawl. 

My hands smooth over her thighs, squeezing lightly, loving the give of her flesh beneath my fingers.

A devilish smile quirks one corner of her mouth and I watch as she shimmies down the length of my body. Her knees are on either side of my calves now, her body barely brushing mine. I know where she's headed and my cock gives a pulse of approval.

I nearly buck off the bed when she drags her tongue across the crease of my hip, then bites down. I consider myself to be a somewhat experienced lover, yet I had no idea that spot could send such a rocket of pleasure through me. She chuckles and I growl at her in response.

"Easy, darlin'," I warn. I'm doing my level best to not flip her over and pound the hell out of her wet cunt. The sight of her bent over me, her wonderful mouth so close to my cock, is frying the synapses in my brain.

She laughs again, and presses her silken cheek against my jumping dick. "Relax, old man. Enjoy the ride."

I shouldn't have told her my age. She's going to use it against me every chance she gets.

But, then, none of that matters, not when she's brushing those soft, full lips up the length of my cock. She purrs appreciatively and my chest swells.

"I did dream of this, Nathan," she murmurs, and the combination of her hot breath and slick lips on me has me fisting the sheet. "Almost every night." 

Her tongue laves the sensitive spot just below my cock head and I rock my hips in a useless effort to get myself into her mouth. 

"I touched myself while I imagined sucking it. Licking it. Riding it. Mmmm..."

Her beautiful lips close around me, just briefly, but enough to shoot a flash of electricity up my spine

"But I couldn't get deep enough. Hard enough."

Another lick and I hiss her name. Her dark eyes lift to meet mine and the devil is in her gaze. This is payback.

"Did you do the same?"

I can only nod. My tongue sits like lead in my mouth. 

She fists the base of my cock in one small hand and squeezes ever so gently.

"Can't hear you."

"Dammit, Maxie." My hips are still rocking, pushing into her hand. 

Still, she smiles.

"Tell me," she urges.

"Fuck, yes. Dozens of times, baby." My voice doesn't sound like my own. It's hard edged and needy.

"Good."

And then she sucks me in. Her mouth is so incredibly hot and wet. Her tongue laps and swirls in dizzying patterns that my mind can't follow. Can barely fathom. It feels so fucking good. 

She takes her time, bobbing her head on my cock, alternating between shallow sucking, and deep plunges that tap the back of her throat. Pleasure shudders through me. With her crouched over me, I can't move my legs, can only try to follow her as she drives me to the edge.

I try to breathe when she finally pauses. She jacks my cock with her hand, her spit and my pre-cum giving no resistance.

"When you're ready, there are condoms in the side table to your right."

I can hear her laughing as I practically lunge to get them. I can't see what I'm doing, need and hunger have clouded my gaze, and I pretty much grab whatever's in the drawer, whatever feels like it might be a condom wrapper.

Maxie rises to her feet. I watch her as I rip the packet, sheathing myself in record time. Even though the mattress isn't stable, she rids herself of her clothing easily enough. 




How Do You Like Your Eggs? Pt. 03



My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her fully naked. She is a goddess, warm brown skin glowing softly in the low light, breasts heaving ever so slightly. Her wide, sloping hips were meant for hands to hold, to press, to pull.

"If you're done teasin', I'd like to be inside you now," I huff.

She laughs, but it is airy and toneless. Perhaps sucking me off has worked her up just as much as it's done me. I like the thought of that - that she's craving more.

She lowers herself back down to the mattress, her limbs still bracketing mine, and crawls back up the length of my body. My hands are on her as soon as she's close enough, tugging her down, crushing her lips to mine so I can taste her while I guide my cock to her dripping slit. 

I had much more control that first night. It's gone tonight. I have spent two long weeks without the press of her flesh and I fucking need it.

She lets out a sharp puff of air when I breach her, still tight from her orgasm, and I know I should let up, but I just can't. I lift my hips while simultaneously pulling hers down, and she moans, her back arching against my invasion of her body. She's so tight.

"Am I hurtin' you?" 

I'm only halfway in. Her heat tempts me further.

"Fuck. Don't stop," she whispers.

And that's really all I need to hear. I grip her hips and pull her down completely, groaning at the tight clutch of her walls around me. She feels even more in credible than that first time.

She's braced above me, open, accepting, her hands on either side of my head, her knees pressing into my ribcage. With one hand cupped around the back of her neck to keep her lips within reach, and the other pressed into the small of her back to hold her in place, I hammer into her.

Pleasure finds a place in the base of my skull, twisting and churning until the only things of importance are her panted breaths against my lips and the constant squeeze of her cunt around my driving cock. She takes me, all of me, grunting sharply each time I bottom out inside her.

"Fuck, Maxie, you're gonna make me come." I don't want to. Not yet. I want to spend the rest of my days thrusting inside of her. 

I pull her tighter, closer, shoving my tongue into her mouth, swallowing her moans and giving back my own harsh ones.

When I can feel her beginning to come apart, I flip us over and fuck her hard and deep, desperate to get as much of myself inside her as I possibly can.

"Nathan! Nathan! Fuck!" she cries out, and my name never sounded so damn good. 

"Yeah...Mmm... come, baby" I growl into her ear. "Mmph... Squeeze my dick and come for me."

She does, howling and digging her sharp little nails into my shoulders. I am practically rutting against her, pushing my cock through her tight, hot clutch. I almost wish the condom wasn't there so I could feel the silkiness inside her, the unhindered wetness of her. 

And that thought sends me soaring. I wrap my arms around her, holding her in place for the last few pumps of my hips and then empty myself into the condom, huffing deliriously into the skin of her shoulder.

Long minutes pass and I don't move. I'm probably crushing her, but I'm enjoying the tremors pulsing through her body. Through mine. The taste of her sweat on my lips and tongue.

She slides her hands down my back, digs her nails lightly into my hips. Her cunt tightens and pulses, and I moan.

Pressing a kiss against my cheek, she murmurs with convincing concern. "Do I need to call somebody? Where's your bracelet?"

Our laughter is the only thing that could have forced me out of her body.



How Do You Like Your Eggs? Pt. 04



Hello, my Loves!

Welcome back! However, if this is your first time stumbling across this little tale, I would suggest checking out the previous installments to catch up.

A little disclaimer: This is not a one-shot, down and dirty story. This is a love story, with bits of the down and dirty. So, if you're looking for a quickie, ya won't find it here. But, maybe you'll give it a chance? 

Quick shout out to Black_Dragon_Princess and IronDragon and pnkntn. Heeeeyyyyyy!! :) Thank you! 

Also, a special one to 'Anonymous' for reminding me to add on the copyright to my shit! *kisses* Thanks, darlin'!

As always, I hope you enjoy, and I look forward to your feedback! 

Love always,

~EJ~

*******************

"Listen, I don't care what or how it happened! You're a month behind on construction. Fix it. NOW!"

I disconnect the call, fighting back the urge to whip my cellphone across my office. We broke ground on a new hotel three months ago and, since then, it seems everything that can go wrong, has. It's costing me much more time and a great deal more money than I'd intended. And giving me a tension headache which radiates from the top of my spine to the crown of my head.

I roll me shoulders in an effort to loosen some of the pressure, but it does little to assist in relief. Pain flairs and pops just below the surface of my skin, and I briefly entertain the thought of a possible stroke. 

No. Just stress. And hunger. I haven't eaten today. I've been too busy trying to clean up everyone else's messes.

It's 7pm on a Thursday night. A little less than a week since Maxie invited me to spend the night with her. It was an incredible evening, even though neither one of us had much energy to move after we'd had sex. Long days on both our parts, and one or two full-out orgasms had sucked the life from both of us. 

Maybe she's right and I am getting old. I'm tired and my entire body aches.

I can't help smiling at that thought. I've pulled on the strings of that memory more times than I can count. The warmth and sweet smell of her apartment, her skin, has haunted me for days. I can't recall the last time I've felt so relaxed and at ease, when I didn't have to be The Nathan Linden. Maxie reminds me of who I used be, what seems like centuries ago. She isn't impressed by my money or my name. She's real and earthy, and a host of other things I didn't know a woman could be.

Makes me wish I had met her years ago.

I was married for four years to a woman I was certain was the one. It's the usual story. Nothing frilly or fancy. No bells or whistles. Just a slow approaching realization that all that glitters is normally just a bunch of dull rocks painted to look rare and expensive.

Amelia and I met at a charity event thrown by a mutual friend. She was poised and stunningly beautiful. Well-spoken. Polite and perfect. At the time, I was already established and making money through various investments and a few major construction projects. The Linden Towers was still in the planning process. My name was making the rounds through elite social circles, thus the attention I received from the opposite sex increased tenfold.

I missed the signs, was blinded by the sparkling blue eyes and equally sparkling smile. It was rocky from the very beginning. Amelia represented everything I thought I wanted. Everything my unenlightened brain equated with success and status. 

She didn't work. She burned through money like it was going out of style. Played at being a housewife. She was as beautiful as she was vicious and hard to please. What she had was never enough; she always wanted more - clothes, cars, jewelry. Bigger. Brighter. Extravagance became her middle name.

And, through it all, I still believed she was the one. Managed to convince myself that the more I gave her, the more she would love me. The happier we would be.

It finally hit me late one spring. I was no longer working because I enjoyed it; I was working to give Amelia any and everything she opened her pretty little mouth to request of me.

I broached the topic of children one evening over dinner, a meal prepared by a personal chef, of course. I can still recall the horrified look on her carefully made up face.

"And ruin all this?" she practically screeched at me, her thin, perfectly manicured hand sweeping wide to take in the immaculate house I paid two housekeepers to clean five days a week.

I had divorce papers drawn up the next day.

I threw myself completely into my work, finally drafting plans and eventually breaking ground for the Linden Towers. It had always been my dream and it was a success from start to finish. It took my mind off my failed marriage, and many more failed pseudo-relationships after that. Of course I looked at marriage and relationships through different eyes - careful, discerning, skeptical eyes.

For the most part, I was alone and I liked it that way. 

Until Maxie and her sleek red dress and ripe red lips. Her soft, laughing eyes and delicious long legs. The mere sight of her had stirred things in me I hadn't felt in nearly a decade. Want. Desire. Longing. Fire. 

I have no idea where any of this is headed, however I damn sure want to enjoy the ride. She's the opposite of everything I've known for so long. A swirling, winding breath of fresh air.

Because of our schedules, we are relegated to phone calls and text messages. Conversations laced with blatant sexual innuendo (she's got a dirty mind and I love it), the merits of ketchup (she apparently eats ketchup on almost everything) and filling each other in on our respective days. She says working in a library isn't very exciting, but I like her stories about the kids she interacts with, or how excited she gets at sharing her love of reading with her patrons.

There's a lot about the woman I like, and a great deal more I'm anxious to learn about her.

Turning in my chair, I stare out the floor to ceiling windows, at the setting sun as it sinks slowly below the horizon. The sky is painted in brash reds and vibrant oranges. The surrounding offices are silent, the only sound the almost inaudible hum of the central cooling system as it pushes air through the vents. 

I'm alone, as I always am at this hour. Always the last to leave. 

My cell vibrates in my hand and I glance down at the screen.

Maxie. 

Warmth flares through the pit of my stomach and rises up to my neck. Just the sight of her name flashing across my cell's screen sends a wave of pleasure and excitement coursing through me. I'm a teenager all over again, thrilled with the newness and possibility of a relationship and the attention I'm receiving from a pretty girl. She's gotten under my skin and I don't think she's tried. 

All the tension I'd been feeling only moments ago is eclipsed by the feelings she stirs in me, melting the stress into a warm, welcome pulse in my temples.

I slide my finger over the screen to connect the call.

"Evenin', darlin'," I say, stretching out my long legs and crossing them at the ankles.

"Hey! Nathan! Listen!" comes Maxie's breathless, frantic greeting in my ear. There's some commotion in the background - sharp banging and clanging twined with the echo of children's voices raised in excited squeals. "I created a diversion, but I've probably got less than a minute before Anaya finds me."

I laugh. I have no idea what's going on, though whatever it is, is bound to be extremely entertaining. "What are you talking about, woman?"

There's a loud thump and what sounds like Maxie fumbling for the phone. Her voice comes back on the line, pitched high and her words spilling out so fast I have to concentrate to understand them. 

"That woman's a fucking shark. She smelled blood in the water. Says my smile gave it away." Another loud thump. "Shit! She found me. The jig is up! Abort! Abort!"

More rustling and cussing. The familiar sounds of a scuffle.

"Maxine Marie Fairfax, back off or I'll bite you. You know I'll do it!"

"Fucking hell, Anaya! I'm not afraid of you. Gimme the phone!"

More words are exchanged, muffled threats which having me laughing full out.

Then, finally, another voice comes on the line, sweet and calm, and in complete contrast to the chaos I've just heard.

"Hello, Mr. Linden. This is Anaya Chavalier, Maxie's oldest and dearest friend. How are you?"

I'm still smiling when I speak, pouring on the charm in equal measure. "Good evenin', Mrs. Chavalier. I'm doin' well. How 'bout yourself?

Her sharp intake of breath vibrates my ear. "Oh, my gawd, Maxie! He's got an accent! You didn't tell me that."

"Oh, my gawd, Anaya!" Maxie mimics. "I'm going to kill you!"

Anaya huffs and returns her attention to me. "Anyway. Mr. Linden, I'm calling to invite you to dinner at my place tonight. Dinner will be served, somewhat promptly, at 8:15pm. I hope you're free and can make it?" I'm fully aware that this is as much a statement as it is a request. Anaya sounds like a woman who means business.

Maxie's voice rises in the background. "Nathan, you are an adult! You have rights! Don't let this harpy bully you!"

This is followed by a shriek and another, much louder, thump.

A beat or two passes and Maxie is back on the line.

"Nathan?" She sounds worried, her voice much smaller than when she had been hurling threats at her best friend. 

"Yes, darlin'?" I'm sure my smile stretches from ear to ear. This is a welcome change from the chaos I had been dealing with before her call.

She sighs. "Jesus, I should never have taught that woman how to fight."

"Are you ok?"

She's moving, the shrieking of the children growing fainter over the line. I hear a door close and then nothing else. She must have gone to another part of the house.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that." She sighs again, and it sounds weary and agitated. 

"What's there to apologize for?"

"We were talking. I mentioned you in passing and she latched on. She's pissed I didn't say anything sooner. Fast forward to her lunging for my cell phone and me screaming something about ice cream. The kids came running and I used them as cover to call and warn you."

I'm laughing again, picturing the ensuing commotion.

"Is it always like this between you two?"

Anaya snorts, an entirely unlady-like sound, which brings another chuckle out of me.

"Mostly," she replies. "I'm fifteen days older than her, but she likes to think she's the boss." She sounds pouty, prompting a sharp image of those plush lips to appear in my mind. My cock twitches. Damn, does this woman have a hold on me.

She continues, unaware of my lustful thoughts.

"So, anyway, about dinner. Don't feel obligated to come because of pushy little Miss Anaya."

"Do you want me to come, Maxie?"

She is silent for a moment, and a sliver of uncertainty winds through me, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

"I-I...well, I wasn't sure if we were in the meet and greet stage, considering we've barely known each other a whole week. I mean, we're still getting to know each other, right?"

The hesitation in her voice gives me some solace. Any other woman, the women I'd known before Maxie, would be salivating at the chance of having me over to meet the family and friends. 

"I've got no plans, sweetheart," I say. "And, I was hoping to see you tonight, anyway."

She releases a relieved breath into the phone. "Ok. Ok. I'll text you the address."

I'm pleased she's pleased.

"Don't kill anyone before I get there."

Her laugh is like music. Sweet, melodic music.

"I make no promises, Mister."

***

I'm giving Anaya the stink-eye and she doesn't care.

We're setting the table. Dinner is done and will be served once our guest has arrived. Anaya's husband, Cade, is sitting in the living room with the children. They are all quiet, which is rare and makes me more than a little suspicious. They're probably saving up all their energy in order to embarrass me during dinner.

Cade's a cop and it's one of his rare nights off. Having him present tonight makes this situation all the more real.

My mother died right after we finished undergrad, so with no siblings and no real connection to anyone on my mom's side of the family, Anaya, Anaya's mother, Cade and the children are the closest things I have to family now. 

"Don't look at me like that. You act like you don't want us to meet him," Anaya is saying as she places the last glass. She's pulled out the good flatware for our guest. She takes a moment to look over her display then, satisfied, turns on her heel to head back into the kitchen. Her pale pink sundress compliments her dark skin-tone. The hem of the skirt swishes prettily around her ankles as she moves. 

I follow behind.

"It's not that," I say. "We barely know each other. It's only been a week. Dinner with the family is a pretty big deal, don't you think?"

"You knew him well enough to let him spend the night," Anaya throws back in such a matter of fact way that I want to rip every tiny, intricate braid out of her head. "Twice, no less."

God, I hate her sometimes. Anaya knows me better than most. She knows I'm not the type to jump into anything without evaluating all the pros and cons beforehand, despite what my recent behavior might suggest. 

This thing with Nathan, whatever it is, whatever it might be, is new and something I never imagined would happen. 

He's rich. Holy shit, is the man loaded! I googled him, I shouldn't have, but I did and it's too late to unsee that bit of information. Bite me, okay? 

What's more is relationships are major tight-rope walking routines I've never had the energy or inclination to pursue. My past relationships, though none of which ended on an extremely sour note, were exhausting. Carefully designed ballets involving egos and pride and too many ways to hurt a person without trying. Too many ways to hurt a person while trying. 

Nathan has shown me nothing but kindness, gentleness, and given me more orgasms in the short time I've known him than any of my relationships combined. However, sex does not a relationship make. 

I've gotten to know him some over the course of the week. He doesn't eat eggs, which is hysterical, considering how all this started. He works out because he enjoys it, which I, also, find to be extremely weird. (Really? Who enjoys working out? It's a form of masochism, if you ask me.) And, his favorite author is Anne Rice. I almost asked him to marry me (or vow to give him thirteen babies ) right then and there.

Still... I am hesitant and uncertain. My mind fills in all the ways this can crash and burn, mainly, the amount of money Nathan has and my inability to keep up with that. I'm a simple girl. I'm easy to please and don't ask for much in life. He's used to the finer things in life.

Case in point - his birthday is in a week. I've thought about getting him something but, fuck, what do you get a man who can buy whatever he wants and not bat an eye over it?

Anaya is peering at me now, her lovely face twisted up in consternation.

"Stop it," she says, and waves a serving spoon in my direction. "I can see the hamster running its wheel and you need to stop it right now."

See? She *knows* me.

She glances at the clock and, noticing the time, starts shoving different dishes in my direction to take to the table. 

"If he can handle our family and its craziness, then he's good to go. Take these out to the table, then go make yourself pretty for your man."

I'm tempted to drop something out of spite. I refrain. There will be plenty of opportunities to break her shit in the future.

I do take a few minutes to freshen up. I'm still wearing my work clothes. A white, woman's-cut button down and black skinny jeans. I'm barefoot, which is usually the case when I'm at Anaya's place. 

The doorbell chimes when I'm halfway down the stairs and my heart does an immediate two-step. Holy hell. I'm actually kind of nervous. So much so that I stop mid-step and stand staring stupidly at the front door.

Cade's gruff voice pulls me back.

"Max! Get the door for your boyfriend!"

I stomp down the remaining stairs. "This is your damn house! Why can't you get the door?"

"Not my boyfriend coming over for a play date," he responds. Then laughs at his own joke.

While Anaya is the sister I never had, Cade is the brother I never had, and I want to fight him often, as if he actually were.

"And watch your language around my kids."

"Kiss my ass," I mutter.

"Heard that."

"Good!"

I yank open the front door and whatever else I'd been about to say is halted at the back of my throat. 

Nathan is standing on the porch in the dim wash of the fading sunlight. He's smiling. Handsome. His eyes are bright, and the look in them tells me he's happy to see me. 

He, like me, is still wearing his work clothes. His slacks are a deep, dark brown. He's minus a jacket and the sleeves of his cream-colored button-down are rolled up casually again. He's holding two large bouquets of lilies in his large hands.

I am speechless.

His eyes drop to my hip and his grin is playful.

"Hello, little one," he says, and I'm almost weirded out that he's greeting my cunt, until a tiny voice pipes up.

"Hewwo..."

My second youngest god-child has tailed me. Anaya probably sent her to do recon. Little turn-coat.

"Aw dose fo' me?" Yvette says. She's got a finger in her mouth and she's staring up at Nathan with big glistening doe eyes filled with wonder.

Nathan chuckles, that deep sound which never fails to send a tremor through my naughty bits, prompting a charming little giggle from Yvette in return. He plucks a bloom from one of the bouquets and crouches down to her level.

"Here," he says to her. I've never heard his voice so soft. So soothing. "This is for you, little lady. My name's Nathan."

She giggles again, snatches the flower from his hand and turns tail, her tinkling laughter all that's left in her wake.

Nathan stands to his full height, still smiling. "She's quick."

I have nothing to say in return. That little exchange did something to me just then. My chest feels tight and heavy, and I have to convince myself not to lunge at him and wrap myself around him. It's not that I've ever dreamed of having children, but his short interaction with my god-child was touching. And, unexpected. The man just earned some major brownie points.

"Evenin', Maxie," he drawls, his usual greeting for me, and my knees nearly give out on me when he reaches out a thin finger to gently push my glasses higher on my nose. With anyone else, this gesture might have been annoying, but with Nathan, it's endearing. Hot. Gawd, what is this man doing to me?

"Evenin', Nathan," I offer back, and I'm sure neither of us misses the breathless quality of my voice.

His smile softens. He steps closer and, using a hand curled around the back of my neck, places a single kiss against my lips. It's just the soft press of his mouth against my own, yet it warms my insides and draws a low, uncharacteristic giggle out of me.

"Good to see you again, sweetheart," he murmurs, our lips still only a breath apart.

Anaya's voice, teasing and edged with laughter, drifts over my shoulder.

"He brings kisses and flowers!"

Nathan laughs and pulls away, though the hand at my neck slips down to my hip. 

"I've also taken the liberty of bringin' dessert. Hope that's ok."

Anaya steps forward and bends low to get to the paper bag I hadn't noticed at Nathan's feet.

"Of course. What is it?" she asks as she peers inside.

"Ice cream," he replies proudly, and a chorus of excited squawks and squeals drift to us from the living room.

Anaya presses a palm to her forehead. 

"You're just like her, aren't you?" she says.

Nathan only beams and I burst out laughing. 

Serves her fucking right.

*******