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Catch & Release

By: Patrick Flanagan



The hard part of any abduction is thorough planning and preparation. The first thing that most sexual predators foul up on is obsessing over someone that they know and then kidnapping that person the first chance they get. Law enforcement agencies usually solve these abductions if not in a few hours, then in time, but they do solve them. The intelligent predator chooses his prey first because of his preferences (maybe she looks like someone he desires) but then he makes his plans according to her weaknesses.

A successful abduction requires a tremendous amount of time, study, research, planning, and timing. The process starts with identifying a likely victim. I personally like them in their late teens and early twenties, petite, and perky looking with a quiet personality. The next step involves seeing about the victim's relationships. A single woman who lives alone is the best target, but you can work well with a roommate, too, if you plan well. In the case of a single woman who lives alone you can usually just smooth talk your way into her apartment/house, overcome her and secure her, and then pack up enough of her clothes and personal effects that it makes it look like she just cleared out to anyone who comes looking. Leaving a small supply of drugs and paraphernalia behind is all it takes to dissuade any sympathy for the victim from law enforcement if they investigate. One look at the drugs and they could care less where your victim went.

Roommates can actually be useful since they usually don't know your victim any better than you do. My favorite tactic is to get your victim on a mailing list for some freaky cult by sending a few hundred bucks cash in her name to them. The roommate will inevitably see the ocean of junk mail that will follow along with possible home visits and phone calls. Then when you do the deed the roommate will tell the boys in blue about the cult and they'll just assume that your victim went with them willingly. Even if they do go check out the cult they won't believe the cultists when they tell the cops the truth that they haven't seen your victim. Haven't you ever wondered why the cops went nosing around at Waco in the first place? Well, now you know who sent them there and why.

But what happens when you screw up? That's what this story is about.

* * * * *

I had performed my usual due diligence in planning, studying, and lining up my victim and tonight was the night I'd make my move. Tonight she'd be home late after work like she was every Thursday night and I'd catch her in the parking lot when she parked in her reserved parking space. The darkness would be my partner in crime.

"Right on time." I said to the air as she showed up on cue. 

It was like a ballet as I opened the side doors to the van and then spun to catch her face in the formaldehyde-soaked cloth. After a very brief struggle she passed out and I loaded her into the van, trussed her up, and secured her wrists and ankles to the floor tie-downs before getting the rubber-ball gag strapped into place. The last touch was the stocking cap I pulled down over her face. In the pervasive darkness I had to do this all by feel, but I had it all done in the time I'd practiced so many nights before…right in this same parking lot.

One hundred and eighty-four seconds after she'd parked her car I opened her apartment door and walked to her bedroom, pulling out a large garbage bag as I walked. Once in her room I dumped the contents of her drawers into the bag and then made my way to the bathroom. Her combs and makeup went in first, followed by her selection of make-up and then her assortment of medications. I chuckled to myself as I dropped the pills and creams into the bag and then turned for the door, locking it behind myself as I left.

Four hundred and twenty-two seconds had elapsed since I started and I was now behind the wheel and driving out of the parking lot. At six hundred seconds even I started up the onramp to the interstate freeway and began the long trip home.

I heard her start to murmur right around St. George, Utah and I turned to see her feebly straining against the restraints. About twenty miles later I smelled the strong scent of urine and turned around to see the stain on her jeans and I just shook my head. I was going to have to steam clean the interior of the van after this anyway. 

It was another four hours before I got to the house and hit the remote for the basement garage. The door rolled up and then I clicked again as I shut the engine off and the door slid closed with a certain finality that made my victim flinch. They always know what's going to happen when they hear that door close. I don't know what it is about the sound that the door makes, it's just like any other remote control door, yet every one of my girls flinches at the sound of its' closing. 

I took a look at the mess she'd made in the van and decided that I'd best get to it before taking a breather. Ten hours of driving with a cargo space full of felony gets to you, you know. 

"Come on, sweetheart, time to get you out of those clothes and settled in."

She froze as I said the words. Notice I said she froze. Victims always tremble and struggle when I first speak to them. This one froze. I realized instantly that she knew me and that I knew her. Soon enough I'd know who she was, but first there was work to be done. I unlocked the restraints that held her to the tie-downs in the van and stood her up to lead her to her new home, a rather comfortable apartment in the basement of my house.

My house has it's own story. A survivalist back in the 1980's built the place with a secret, long-term bomb shelter in the basement for the nuclear war that never came. After he died in a confrontation with the local sheriff I bought the whole place for a song at the tax assessor's auction and have lived here quite nicely the last eight years. When I'd first found the bomb shelter behind a false basement wall I just used it for a guest room for the rare relative who'd make their way out here to the boonies. It was my then-twelve year old step-niece who one day pointed out that with the steel reinforced three-foot thick walls and the 2800-pound blast door the shelter could easily be mistaken for a prison cell. Looking at my brothers' stepdaughter as she planted the cell concept in my head gave me a very interesting idea. I never saw her again to thank her for that great idea since her mother divorced my brother not long after and then moved away without a trace.

A little creative welding soon had the inside of the blast door covered with a quarter-inch thick sheet of stainless steel, which denied any occupant access to the locking mechanism of the door. The door mechanism was still easily accessed from the outside and a very clever magnetic key the original owner created as a failsafe would release you from the inside if you should happen to be in there when the door closed. The magnetic key was hidden in plain sight holding an old calendar on the refrigerator door inside the shelter…, which was now a cell.

Then came the part about putting my plan into action. I'm a big believer in planning and I figured that the best way to plan a successful crime was to first study how everyone else had screwed up his or her crimes. I studied bank robberies, embezzlements, and several other types of crimes and I came away with a few conclusions:

1.Failed crimes are usually committed within twenty miles of the criminals' home.

2.Criminals almost always get away with the first crime, but they get cocky after that and lose their edge.

3.Most criminals choose victims they know.

4.Most criminals fail to plan their crimes and the majority of those who do plan their crimes fail to execute their plans. 

5.Criminals usually underestimate the intelligence, abilities, and experience of law enforcement. A dedicated criminal in his/her lifetime may commit hundreds of crimes while a good cop will solve thousands of them. Face it: we have great cops in America and any criminal today is truly swimming in a sea of blue.

So my first effort was made on a trip to Nashville, Tennessee. I'd found a cheap motel on the outskirts of town whose manager was more or less a crack-whore and she was thrilled to take my two weeks' rent in cash without asking any questions. While I was there the manager was shot and killed by a robber and I observed the cops dismissing the whole thing after they found her crack stash. I took a mental note about that little fact. Driving around town the next week I came across a private school that was in a lightly forested area and I decided to set up my 'blind' right there and wait for the afternoon. My hunting 'blind' was actually very simple: I parked on the main road, placed marker cones at either end of my van, set up my pipe detecting equipment and went to work charting the locations of all of the conduit and pipe under the road surface. I now looked like any other anonymous road crew that people see (and ignore) every single day. 

Just after 2:15 in the afternoon a stream of pretty girls came walking down the road, chatting with each other and sharing the gossip of the day. The stream tapered off to a trickle by 3:00 and I figured I'd wait another hour before packing up. Sure enough, at 3:40 a cute, bookish little thing came along with her head down as she walked home. Turned out she'd stayed after school to work on a story for the school newspaper. 

At 4:05 she was unconscious and nicely secured in the back of my van and three days drive from starting her new life taking care of the child she was going to bear for me. Being careful to never let her see my face, I kept her just over a year before I let her go. I impregnated her the second month she was with me and then I took care of her as her belly swelled with my daughter. She gave birth right there in the cell and then I kept her another couple of months to make sure that she'd bonded with the child before I bound her up and took her back to Tennessee to let her go on the same street where I'd taken her the year before. You might remember the 'human interest' story from the national news about how she loved her daughter despite what had happened.

By the way, that's my thing: 'catch and release' I call it. I find some little thing to carry my child and then make sure she bonds with the baby so she'll keep it when I let her go. The girl from Nashville was the first. The one I'd just caught in San Diego was the fourth.

That first girl I'd just picked at random as the opportunity had presented itself. For the second girl I went to Saint Paul, Minnesota and spent a month stalking a cute little office girl that lived in a studio downtown. I left a few baggies of crack with a well-used pipe in her place when I snatched her and, amazingly, after I let her go the police weren't at all interested in her abduction story, they just wanted to know about the crack. I used the crack trick with the next girl who was from Portland with the same effect. And now I'd done it again.

But who was she?

* * * * * * 

After the long drive I was really exhausted, but my new playmate needed to be attended to first. I untied her legs so she could walk on her own and then I led her through the house. She wobbled a bit on the stairs and seemed to trust me as I led her down the stairs and then to the false wall. I couldn't help but notice the girl anticipate stopping at the wall as I opened it, as if she already knew what was going on. I led her inside and then secured her wrist restraints to the chain that hung from an eyebolt in the concrete ceiling. 

I secured her wrists in such a way to keep her on her toes. This prevents any uncomfortable kicking on the girls' part. She stood mutely as I cut away her soiled jeans and the other garments she wouldn't need anymore. I drew in a breath as I gazed at her lithe and supple body that sported a cute tuft of brown hair in a certain spot. I decided to leave her there for a while and went outside to incinerate her clothes and the belongings from her apartment in my smithing furnace. I do a little blacksmith work for the farmers in the area as a cover for having a handy little device that burns up evidence, underwires and all. In twenty minutes even the ashes were burnt away. 

It's my custom to not get started with a girl until she's had a week or so to get used to her new surroundings and get up to speed on my special rules for houseguests. I don't know what got into me this time, maybe I was just plain horny. When I went back to the cell I brought her new collar with me, a hinged steel ring with a lock on it where I also secure a chain to keep my girls from getting any idea about running away. 

In the course of locking on her collar and the chain I couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. Truly, she was the most perfect female to have ever graced my home. The curve from her breasts to her hips was incredibly seductive to me, and her delicate legs highlighted the marked femininity of her form. I ran my hands down her sides, brushing the sides of her pert breasts and caressing her hips as I went. I held her hips in either hand and looked at her firm belly and my cock sprang to life right then and there. I had to have her.

I stepped back, kicked off my shoes, and stripped myself slowly. When she heard my zipper open on my pants she gave a knowing whimper, the first sound she'd made since arriving. She began to shift about on her toes, betraying to me that she knew what was coming. I dropped my pants and hung them over the chair where my polo shirt was waiting. My boxers soon joined my shirt and pants as witnesses to my selfish depravity.

Her face was still covered with the stocking mask and I decided that it was best for now to leave her that way. I thrilled to the idea of what thoughts must be going through her mind as she stood there waiting for me to rape her. I walked up to her and stood as close to her as possible without touching her, just to see if she could feel my presence. Sure enough, she whimpered again and struggled against the wrist restraints to try to avoid the inevitable. I leaned down and took her by the waist as I drew one of her nipples into my mouth. I tasted the slightest salt of her perspiration as the wrinkled bud began to respond to my tongue. Sucking ever so gently on the one nipple, I massaged her other breast and felt the twin of the bud in my mouth swell in appreciation.

My hand roamed down across her taut belly to explore the tufted cleft of her waiting sex and she responded with her first scream of protest. She began to buck and kick at me so I backed away and retrieved a three-foot long leg spreader. I grabbed her right ankle and pulled until she was hanging uncomfortably by her wrists from the ceiling without any contact with the floor by either foot. She kicked a bit more as I secured the first ankle but quickly gave up as her kicking only caused pain to her straining wrists. With her second ankle secured I stepped back to admire my handiwork. Hanging from her wrists with her legs outspread and clear of the floor she began to sob. To me this was a good sign as it's the first indication that the girls' will was starting to break. I had to let the lesson sink in once it had started so I put off my pleasure and spun her, letting her naked body spin and sway from the ceiling while I dressed and went upstairs for some lunch and a nice cup of coffee.

After lunch I decided that it was time for a shower and I enjoyed contemplating my guest in her predicament as the steam rose around me. I dried off and decided to just wear my robe since I wasn't planning on staying dressed for very long anyways. Padding down the stairs I heard little sobs coming from the cell and I found my guest had stopped spinning around. Her hands were white from lack of circulation and they were probably numb, too. I touched her fingers to see if I'd get a reaction and I didn't. Not wanting to actually hurt her, I picked her up and undid the lock on her wrists and allowed them to fall to her sides. She first screamed with rage once her hands were free and then screamed again as she found them unwilling to respond to her certain wish to hit me. The next scream came as the blood flowed back into her hands sending a wave of pain through her form. 

I carried her to the bed and secured her wrists to the sides of the bed instead of over her head so that the circulation would resume to her tortured hands. Her collar I secured to the chain at the head of the bed where I usually secured a pair of wrists. I massaged her hands to help the blood get back into them and to also help soothe the pain. She responded to my ministrations with a couple of sighs that clearly conveyed relief. Another lesson was being learned.

In a good ten minutes the color of her fingers was restored and she seemed to be much more relaxed, even though she was splayed out naked. I think her concerns about safety and personal space had at that point given way to just being concerned about comfort. Lying back on a bed, her neck collared and secured, wrists secured out and down from her waist, and legs lewdly spread was far more comfortable than hanging from the ceiling. 

Now I decided to explore her body a little more. It seemed natural to let my hands follow up her left arm to the curve of her breast and I noticed the absence of protest this time as I stimulated her nipples to pert little peaks. She did tense up as my hand traversed her belly and teased the fringe of her tuft. She strained to close her thighs to stop my intrusion but soon gave up, her legs simply going limp as if to acknowledge the futility of fighting my desires. Her body seemingly surrendered to me, I allowed my hand to edge further into the tuft until my fingers found the crinkly lips protecting her pussy. My cock rose to a throbbing hardness as I felt the warmth and moisture of her depths radiate from the tufted cleft. Gently, I massaged and kneaded the tender lips and was rewarded as I felt them swell in response to my attention.

I didn't expect her to get into it but I soon felt her hips just barely responding to the timing of my kneading and I endeavored to try to see what I could evoke from this girl. I guess maybe an hour went by with my one hand massaging her moistening pussy and my other hand gently caressing and exploring her nubile body. My own desire had been forgotten as I worked to bring whatever pleasure I could to my helpless victim and I never noticed that my cock had settled down on me. It was both curiosity and a bizarre desire that drove me to focus on drawing an orgasm out of this girl.

My kneading of her pussy gently became a probing as her body responded and her slit wettened with desire. I can't recall precisely when, but at some point I found her clit budding out from under its' hood and I turned my attention to it with gentle swirls, light feathery touches, and teasing brushes across just the tiniest tip of it. It was no surprise to me when she finally surrendered a moan of pleasure to me, which was soon followed by her actively thrusting her hips at my hand. 

I could sense her pleasure starting to build and decided to do something that I'd never done with one of my girls right at first. I got up from the bed and heard her clearly sigh with frustration as I padded around to the foot of the bed. Taking the spreader bar in my hands I lifted her ankles up into the air and climbed under the bar. There was no complaint or protest from her when my hungry mouth and tongue buried in her sweet pussy and tasted her dew. Her hips were soon rising to meet my mouth as I massaged her tender bud with my eager tongue and she even caught me by surprise as she edged down the bed just a bit to coax me deeper into her crevice.

Her breath became a staccato of gasps and muted shrieks and I felt the tension rise through her belly as the pleasure built in her body. I drove my tongue through her pussy with slower and slower strokes, each stroke of my tongue exerting more pressure on her sensitive parts. She got my every effort as I slowed down my pace and increased my intensity as her body demanded satisfaction. Her moans became shrieks as I felt the waves of pleasure start to build and it was only then that I flicked my eager tongue as fast as I could into her soaking pussy. Her thighs strained against the spreader trying to squeeze my mouth against her body as her back arched with the burst of her orgasm. Knowing that she was at her most sensitive and vulnerable I licked with a furious intensity and was rewarded with her body thrashing at me and the incredible sounds of a woman in her second orgasm.


Catch and Release



My gawd she looked gorgeous as she walked into the bar. I saw her the minute she hit the door. 

She was wearing a very short white mini skirt with pleats like a schoolgirl skirt that flowed when she walked. Her long tanned legs were muscled in all the right places with soft tender looking thighs. She had on a pair of high-heeled sandals that did nothing more than to extenuate her sexy legs. She had on a pink silky blouse that was nearly sheer. As she walked, her tits undulated with each step. Her long brunette hair was wavy and shiny. Her make-up was enough to highlight her facial features without looking whorish. She had a complete air of confidence about her.

Every guy and several women in the bar were watching her. She knew she was sexy and desirable. 

The best part is that she is my wife.

Caren and I have been married for nine years. About two years ago, we found that she liked showing her body to complete strangers and I enjoyed watching her do it.

It all started very innocently one night when we were meeting at a local bar for some drinks after work and then to dinner. I told her to meet me there about six and at the last minute, my boss came into my office and talked and talked. He finally left about six fifteen and I hurried to the bar to meet Caren. I tried calling on her cell phone to let her know I was running late but she did not pick up. I knew that at happy hour the bar was always very busy and raucous.

I arrived at about seven and my assumption was right. The bar was packed with business people like ourselves letting off some steam from the day.

I finally found Caren at the bar. She had guys hanging all over her. She was obviously enjoying the attention so I found a spot where she could not easily see me but where I could watch what was going on.

Caren had her back to the bar and those long sexy legs crossed in front of her. She was wearing a skirt that was not a mini but was short. Her blouse was a white fabric that had some transparency to it so it showed off the tops of her full breasts and her sexy lace bra.

She had a drink in each hand and a couple behind her at the bar. I'm sure she paid for none of them.

A couple of the guys kept touching her arm, shoulder, and hair as they flirted with her. She was doing her fair share of flirting back by laughing and giving those fuck me eyes to a few of them. Her skirt was slowly riding up on her legs further and further with each drink. The skirt was so high now that I could see her red panties from my position. I knew from experience that it was a sexy little g-string.

She suddenly looked at her watch and excused herself from her throng of admirers. She walked to the back of the bar and into the ladies room.

Suddenly I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. It was Caren trying to call me. I got up and went outside to take the call. I missed the call before I got outside and called her back immediately.

"Hello" she answered.

"I'm so sorry. The boss came in and gave me a last minute assignment. I will probably be here another hour." I lied.

"Well hurry. I'm getting bored sitting here alone." She lied.

"I will hurry as fast as I can. Just stay there and have a few drinks." I responded.

"Well Ok, as long as it won't be too long." She replied.

"I'll be there in about an hour. I love you." I said.

"I love you too. Bye." She answered.

"Bye." I said and flipped the phone closed. 

I went back to my spot and waited for her to come out. When she did, it was noticeable that she had unbuttoned one to two buttons on her blouse. It was to the point that she called it "One button past decent." The tops of her heaving breasts were now clearly visible above the buttons. When she leaned forward, the guys at the bar were getting a clear view of her 38DD tits straining inside the pretty white bra.

One guy then put his hand on her knee I'm sure to get her reaction. To even my disbelief there was none. She acted as if it was me putting my hand on her bare leg.

I wanted to get up, go over there, and put a stop to this. The only problem was that my cock was so hard that everyone in the place would have seen my hard cock tenting out the front of my slacks. I could not believe that watching my wife being a total flirt and having other guys flirting with and touching her bare leg would cause me to get so excited.

The guy on the other side of her seeing that his friend was copping a feel did not want to be left out so her put his arm around her shoulders and let his hand drape over her until his fingers were nearly touching the top of her breast.

She apparently then decided that this was going a little too far too fast. She was feeling no pain from the plethora of drinks that kept coming her way. When she excused herself again she slid off the bar stool and her skirt was pulled up so that the bottoms of her firm tight ass cheeks were showing. She pulled the skirt down and headed to the back of the bar again. I watched her enter the ladies room.

My phone again began vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out and Caren was showing on the caller id. I took my sport coat off and held it in my arms so that it covered my raging hard on and went back outside. 

I called her back.

"Where are you? She asked.

"I'm still at work but almost done. I should be there in about forty five minutes." I responded.

"That is what you said twenty minutes ago." She said sounding pouty.

"I'm sorry but I am hurrying. Just relax and have another drink." I pleaded.

"I am already almost drunk." She let me know.

"I'm sure there are a lot of guys there buying you drinks aren't they?" I asked.

"Yah, but I would really like for you to be here buying me drinks and getting me drunk so that you can take advantage of me later." She said.

"Just let the guys ply you with drinks and I will take advantage of you later like I'm sure they are hoping will happen for them." I said.

She pleaded, "Just hurry I really want to see you. I miss you."

"I will be there shortly then we will go eat." I responded.

"Ok, but hurry. Bye" she said.

I closed the phone and went back in before she came out of the rest room.

I could hardly believe my eyes when she came back out. She had removed her bra. Her large tits were freely gyrating with her walk. The blouse was sheer enough that when she passed through the lights you could see her areola and her nipples were poking into the fabric.

She sat back down on the stool and her unbridled breasts did not escape any of the guys standing around her. I was not sure that she had not even unbuttoned her blouse another button. She was sitting directly below a spotlight at the bar. Everyone in the place could plainly make out her tits under her blouse. I wondered if she was aware of how the light was making her top even more transparent. She uncrossed her legs in one direction and crossed them again in the other direction. I was certain that I caught a glimpse of her smooth pussy.

One of the guys then placed his hand on her leg but this time it was not her knee but her thigh. He must have figured the sudden lack of a bra was a go-ahead signal. He tried pushing his hand further up her thigh. He was very near the hem of her short skirt when thank goodness she put her hand on his.

She leaned to him and said something that I could not hear. He did not move his hand away but did stop his advance up her thigh.

The friend on the other side moved in closer and put his arm around her shoulders again. He was close enough that his hand was draped even further over her and his fingers were laying inside her open blouse and touching the top of her breast. He tried to move it further into her blouse and she was busy talking to the guy with his hand on her thigh and did not notice until he nearly had his fingers at her areola. 

She quickly put her hand on his and patted it and I heard her say, "Bad boy."

She used her hand to slide his back up to her shoulder.

My cock was raging hard but it was time for me to make my entrance. I used my jacket to cover up my hard on and snuck out the front door. I stood in the darkness for a moment letting my cock soften before going back in. 

I walked into the bar and looked around for her as if I did not know where she was. 

She saw me and waved.

I headed for her and when I got there, her attackers had backed off.

She jumped off the stool as her tits bounced inside her shirt.

She hugged me and kissed me, "I'm glad you're here."

She leaned into me as she was pretty drunk and whispered in my ear, "Let's go. I have got to fuck you right now."

I asked her, "What happened to your bra?"

She replied in slurred speech, "I wanted to surprise you. Now let's go before I decide to fuck you right here."

I put my arm around her, she gathered her purse, and waved bye to the guys she had been flirting with.

I could see the disappointment on their faces as Caren and I walked away. We went out the door and headed to the parking lot. 

Caren turned to me, kissed me deeply, and nearly choked me with her tongue.

She said, "My gawd I am so fucking horny!"

When we arrived at the car, she turned me around with my back to the car. She leaned her petite body into me and I could feel her hot 38DD tits pressing into me. My cock got as hard as a rock. 

She reached between us, felt my cock, and demanded, "Unlock the car."

I hit the key fob and the doors unlocked. She reached for the back door and opened it.

"Get in now." She ordered.

I crawled into the back seat and she was right behind me. She quickly closed the door and reached for my zipper. She pulled my cock out of my pants, dropped to my lap, and sucked the entire length of my cock into her mouth. I watched her devour my cock in the parking lot lights. She had never taken me this deep before. I rolled my head back onto the seat and enjoyed the oral stimulation.

She quit sucking then climbed over me and straddled me. She reached for my cock and guided it into her extremely wet pussy. She sat down on my cock and she was so wet that when my cock entered her the excessive juices flowed onto my balls. She began grinding and squirming on my cock as she reached for her blouse and unbuttoned it all the way.

She then commanded, "Suck my nipples and suck them hard."

I pulled one of her nipples into my mouth, sucked hard on it, and let my teeth scrape across it.

Caren moaned, "OHHH FUCK YES!"

She began riding up and down on my cock as much as the confined space would allow. 

I could feel the car bouncing up and down and heard, "Go man tap that pussy!"

I glanced back as a couple of guys walked by the car. Caren grinned as they looked in at her riding my cock. It seemed to make her even hotter if that was possible.

I put my hands on her tits, pinched, and squeezed her nipples to the point that I knew it had to be painful but Caren just moaned and kept fucking my cock.

I could tell I was not going to take this much longer as my balls tightened against my body. Caren also knew I was close so she sat completely down on my cock and began grinding back and forth causing my cock to make contact with her clit.

She moaned, "OHHH FUCK! Honey cum with me."

I rolled my head back trying to hold on but the stimulation was too much. 

"AAAAAAUUUUUUGGGHHH!" I groaned as my cock erupted inside her. She kept on grinding.

I felt her pussy tighten its grip on my cock and she began to quiver.

"OOOHHHH MY GAWD!" She exclaimed as her juices flooded my cock.

She leaned against me with her tits in my face. She was breathing heavily as was I. As she was still clutching me, I glanced over at the car next to us. I had not noticed that there were people in it.

"Ah Caren it seems we have an audience" I said into her ear.

She looked over at the couple and it was obvious that the woman was giving the guy a hand job from the motion of her hand. When we had finished her head disappeared into her man's lap.

Caren laughed, "They must have liked the show."

Caren pulled her blouse together and asked, "Are you ready to go eat?"

She climbed off my lap and I looked at my crotch.

"I don't think I should go anywhere like this." I replied.

She looked at my soaked crotch and pants then laughed.

"Ok, then lets go home and continue this." She said.

I opened the back door and crawled out. I glanced into the car next to us and the woman was still sucking his cock. Her ass was in the air and he had leaned over her to finger her pussy and ass. 

Caren got out of the car and saw what was happening then said, "Honey stop watching that is rude."

"They watched us I figure turnabout is fair play." I responded.

The guy saw us looking, pulled his finger from her pussy, and gave us a thumb up sign.

I told Caren to get in and I would take her to her car.

When we got home, we fucked into the wee hours of the morning. 

The next morning I asked, "What the hell got into you last night? Not that I'm complaining mind you."

"Promise you won't get mad?" she asked.

I was hoping she was going to tell me the truth because I wanted to let her know I was there and saw the whole thing.

She began, "I was sitting at the bar waiting for you and some of the guys there started buying me drinks. At first, I tried to decline but they just kept coming. Then several of them began moving in on me. They began talking to me and I kept drinking. I was getting pretty drunk and several of them kept making advances to me. They kept touching my bare leg and kept trying to cop feels of my tits and thighs. It made me so horny knowing that someone besides you wanted me that bad. One guy kept trying to work his hand under my skirt can you believe that?"

I then asked, "What happened to your bra and panties?"

"I kept going to the rest room to call you and was enjoying teasing them so much I decided to push it further. But, you were even later than I thought so it was getting pushed further than I had expected. I was glad you finally showed up. By that time I was so fucking horny I was going to fuck you right there at the bar." She replied.

"What if I had not shown up when I did? How far would you have let it go?" I asked.

"I knew it had gone as far as I could let it. If you had not shown up when you did I was going to slip out." She replied.

I asked, "Did you want to fuck them?"

"Oh no! I want to fuck only you. But, I will admit it was fun teasing them and soooooo very stimulating." She replied.

"I have a confession to make." I said.

She looked at me quizzically.

"I was there the whole time. I was watching you with them and each time you went to the ladies room and removed your bra and panties." I said.

"WHAT?" She exclaimed.

"I will also admit that it made me very horny and made my cock hard watching you and watching the desire in the guys build. I enjoyed watching them peeking at your tits and trying to get their hands on you." I confessed.

"You were there watching the whole time and just sat and watched? She asked.

"Yes, I was so turned on. I was also hoping that you were just playing catch and release." I said.

"What is catch and release?" she asked.

"It is a fishing term meaning you catch the fish then let them loose back into the water." I answered.

"What would you have done if I had not released and suddenly left with one or more of them?" She asked.

"I would not have let it go that far." I answered.

"I continued, "Let's just admit it. We both had a good time last night watching you tease and showoff."

"It sure made for a fun night afterwards didn't it?" she asked.

"Oh hell yes!" I responded.

She stared at the wall for a moment then asked, "Can we do it again?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

That is how we got to tonight and me watching my beautiful sexy wife walking into a bar by herself. 

She had called me at work and asked, "Can we go play catch and release tonight?"

We made the plans on how the night would go down. The game would be over when I heard her say, "My husband should be here any minute."

Tonight she looked radiant. She went to the bar and selected a stool directly in front of where I was sitting. Her skirt was so short that her as I knew, naked ass was sitting on it. It did not take long after she had ordered a drink for another one to show up. The bartender pointed to a guy sitting at the end of the bar. He got up and walked to Caren. 

"Can I join you?" he asked.

Caren replied, "Sure you bought me a drink so the least I can do is chat with you."

He introduced himself and Caren in turn told him her name. Just then, another drink showed up and the bartender pointed to a guy sitting not far from me. Caren turned and nodded at him. He also got up and sat on the other side of her.

I thought wow these guys work fast. She had only been in the bar maybe ten minutes.

She turned her barstool so that she was facing me. She uncrossed her legs to let me see her pussy. My cock sprang to attention. She then re-crossed them and I could see her ass cheek beneath her skirt.

She continued casual conversation with the two men vying for her attention. I'm sure both of them were hoping they might get lucky with her.

She had about four drinks when one of them placed his hand on her knee. He was slick about it because he was telling her a story and I guess he felt it only seemed natural to touch her as he told his story.

As he was telling his story Caren looked at me and then at his hand on her knee and smiled. The guy on the other side took this opportunity to scoot his stool closer as if he was trying to listen to the story.

When he had finished his story, they all laughed but he did not remove his hand. He made it seem natural as he was laughing to move his hand to about mid thigh. Caren's nipples got hard at this point.

She uncrossed her legs again and sat like that for a moment giving me a shot of her pussy. I was not sure but I thought I saw a glint of moisture on her pussy lips. Caren has always had a juicy pussy but teasing as she was now made her pussy nearly soaked.

The guys did not let the nipples go unnoticed. Caren was saying something and neither of them were looking at her face. The one was leaning forward so he could hear better but actually was drooling over her 38DD tits with the rock hard nipples.

One of the guys stood up and held out his hand. Caren took it and they headed to the dance floor. The DJ was playing some classic rock and they began to dance to it. Caren is an exceptional dancer and was really moving to the music. Her small flowing skirt was flaring out with her moves revealing the bottom of her ass cheeks. Her unfettered tits were also moving with the music and her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric. Her dance partner was not moving much and was taking in the sight of Caren's body. Her body was drawing attention from everyone. The guys and gals at the bar were watching her dance.

The DJ then went to a more modern song and Caren began moving to it. She turned away from her partner and looked at me as she bent slightly over and was grinding her ass into his crotch. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to him in a simulated fucking motion. Caren then twirled around and put her body next to his as she moved against his body.

She was beginning to perspire and her skin was glistening under the dance floor lights.

The DJ then slowed the music and her partner quickly pulled her to him. Their bodies were rubbing against one another as they danced. He put one hand on her hip and the other at her side. As the music continued, he slowly but surely let his hand slide onto her ass. His other hand was continually moving to the side of her breast.

Suddenly his hand was at the hem of her skirt. His fingers were lying against the flesh of her round little ass cheeks. His other hand was now nearly embracing the side of her breast. She did not bother to move either of them.




Catch and Release



He then looked over her shoulder at his buds at the bar and slowly raised her skirt. Her ass was showing and the guys at the bar all began giving each other the high five at the sight.

My cock was aching it was so hard. I was waiting for the words to come and get her. She was going past the catch and release. It was obvious that she had this guy hook, line and sinker. He would have fucked her in a heartbeat, as would every guy in the place. It was now time for the release so that I could take her home and fuck her hard and fast they way I knew she was going to want it tonight.

"Damn" I mumbled to myself.

She is letting this really go. His hand was now cupping her breast and his other hand was fully on her ass with a finger resting against the crack of her ass.

The song finally ended and in my opinion none too soon. She broke away from him and began walking back to the bar. She sat down on her stool and flashed her pussy at me again. Her blouse was now wet with perspiration as it clung to her tits. Her areola and nipples were clearly visible.

Her dance partner stood next to her and I saw him lean into her ear and say something to her.

She replied, "I can't my husband will be here any minute."

He responded with, "We can make it a quickie up in my room. You will be back before he is here."

I took my cue and got up to head to the door so I could reenter. My cock was so hard I had to hunch over a bit to try and hide it.

I stood there for a moment waiting for my hard on to subside. I walked back into the bar and headed for her.

She was not there! Neither was the guy she had been flirting with!

I looked around and did not see her. I wandered back toward the restrooms thinking she had gone to the restroom.

I found her there. She was leaning against a wall and the guy was there still talking to her. 

She saw me coming and said, "Hi Honey!"

She broke away from him and came to me. She kissed me passionately.

You could see the disappointment on the guys face. 

She leaned into me and said, "Take me home and fuck me PLEASE!"

I grabbed her hand and we headed for the door.

When we got outside the cool breeze hitting her damp blouse made her nipples pucker up and point proudly forward.

I asked her, "Where is your car?"

She said, "I took a cab so I could ride home with you."

We got in the car and as I started the engine, Caren was stripping out of her blouse. She then rose off the seat and pulled her skirt off. She was naked except for her shoes.

She put her hands to her tits and began pinching and rolling her nipples.

"Oh my gawd that feels good! My nipples are aching to be sucked." She moaned.

I pulled onto the street and looked over at her naked body as the street lights flashed inside the car. 

She moved her one hand to her pussy and said, "My pussy is soaking wet and my clit is hard. I can't wait to feel your hard cock sliding in and out of it."

She laid the seat back so that she could better finger her pussy. She had two fingers as far in her pussy as they would go and was massaging her clit.

I could feel my underwear getting damp from the copious amounts of precum that was leaking from it.

I had to stop at a traffic light and suddenly a big truck stopped next to us. The truck was on Caren's side. I heard his horn honk. I glanced up at him through the sunroof as he was staring at my naked wife fingering her pussy.

The light turned green and I pulled out as he honked his horn again.

"My gawd you have got to find somewhere to pull over and fuck me I can't wait till we get home." She moaned.

I quickly began looking around for some place to stop. Just up the road I knew of a park and figured at one am it would be deserted. I pulled into the park and found a secluded spot. 

Caren opened the door and headed to the rear of the car naked. I turned it off and got out. She quickly unbuckled my pants, unzipped my fly, and pulled my pants and underwear down to my ankles in one swift move. 

She turned around and placed her hands on the trunk of the car. She spread her legs and said, "Fuck me!"

I stepped up to her and guided my cock into her soaking wet pussy. Once again she was so wet that I felt her excessive fluids coat my balls as I entered her.

She moaned, "OHHHH FUCK YESSSSS!"

She began lunging her ass back at my cock and each time I shoved into her she pushed back causing a slapping noise.

She was grunting and groaning while grasping at the trunk of the car while I fucked her deeply on each stroke.

She moved one of her hands to her pussy, was massaging her clit while I bent over her, and put my hands on her large hanging tits. They were swinging back and forth from our motion and I pinched her nipples.

This caused an instant reaction in what was nearly a scream, "FUCK YES!"

I felt her pussy tighten on my cock, which sent me over the edge. My knees buckled and I groaned as her body shuddered and she was making grunting noises rolling into her orgasm.

I stayed there bent over her body holding onto her heaving breasts as we both were trying to catch our breath.

Suddenly a car started up near to where we were.

"OH SHIT!" I exclaimed as I pulled up my pants.

Caren began laughing as she ran to get in the car. Just as we both got in the car the mystery car pulled by and stopped about fifty feet from us. The dome light came on in the car and it was another couple thank goodness. They both were applauding.

Caren began laughing and said, "Let's go home."

I started the car and pulled out of the park. 

As we were driving home, Caren was still naked and I asked her, "Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"

She looked out the window of the car and said, "Yes."

I then said, "Things almost got a little carried away tonight didn't they?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean he had his hands on your ass, tits, and nearly your pussy tonight." I responded.

"Yah, it probably got a little carried away. But, it made me so horny I think you reaped the benefits and that poor guy is probably back in his hotel room jacking off." She stated.

"No doubt after the teasing you put him through. I know I would be." I grinned.

She responded with a grin and scooted over to put her hand on my cock.

"I'm not done with you yet." She purred.

I then asked, "Did you want to fuck him?"

She rubbed my cock, "This catch and release game is about releasing. I only want to fuck you. We both know that this gets us so horny that we end up fucking like wild animals."

"If I was not in the picture would you have fucked him?" I asked.

"Yes. But you are in the picture." She responded.

I pulled into a gas station as we were nearly out of gas.

"She said, "You sit here and I'll get it."

"YOU'RE NAKED!" I nearly yelled.

"So it's one forty five in the morning do you honestly think anyone will care. Besides it will give that kid inside something to tell his friends." She giggled.

With that she opened the door and got out. I was nervously looking around as she nonchalantly began pumping gas into the car. I figured she would get back in the car until it was done. Oh no, she stood out there until it was done. The kid inside had a big grin on his face as she headed inside to pay him. I watched as her cute little ass wiggled along. 

She paid for the gas as if she was fully clothed then headed back to the car. The kid watched her all the way back.

She opened the door and said, "Damn that was a thrill."

I started the car and pulled onto the street as she reached for my cock again. She unzipped my pants and crawled over the console to suck my cock into her mouth. 

I reached across her back and let my finger run down the crack of her ass grazing her rectum as she moaned on my cock. I then leaned further over and let my finger slid into her wet pussy.

She rose off my cock and mumbled, "Pull over I have got to fuck you again."

This time I pulled onto the side of the road. I tilted the wheel up and laid the seat back. She crawled on top of me. Her head was bent over by the headliner as she reached between us and guided my cock into her. She then laid down on top of me and was sliding her body up and down on mine as she fucked me again.

The friction from her position caused her to jerk and scream into another orgasm. She then crawled off me and I put the seat back up. 

I turned onto the road and she leaned across me again and sucked me until I shot my load into her mouth.

She sat back over in her seat.

"I think we have uncovered the exhibitionist in you." I remarked.

"We should have done this years ago. I never knew how much fun it would be." She laughed.

As we pulled into the garage she asked, "Tomorrow is Saturday. Can we do it again?"

"Oh HELL yes!" I responded.



Catch and Release



AUTHOR'S NOTE

If you've read any of my other stuff you've probably come to realize some of my quirks. I'm a big fan of a little Bromance. The way I figure it man on man should have the same delicious acceptance of girl on girl. This story contains, some man on man. Not a great deal in this first section, it's more implied than anything else. My stuff is more thinking porn, if you're after a quick fix of tab A into slot B (and let's face it we all want that sometimes) it's not here, it's a story. 

Now after those warnings if you're turning off, that's cool. But…(there's always a but isn't there?) why not try it. You just might like it; no one's watching they'll never even know you tried. You might find yourself a delicious new kink.

Comments appreciated. Ratings even more.

 Lay some sugar on me xxx

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Fitted green satin was a bad idea. Hardly a revelation in 104 degree heat and 89% humidity—but to Grace it was a revelation of sorts. Despite the fact that she was sweating as soon as she was out of the shower Grace had not at any point prior to the party questioned her decision to wear the vintage fifties cocktail dress. It was her Christmas dress and it was a Christmas party, therefore the only choice was the full-skirted, long sleeved, heavy satin. It was as simple as that. It seemed that not even a swap in hemisphere could shake her devotion to tradition. 

Grace had always liked boundaries, personal rules and goals. They had long been a comfort—a way for her to define her place in the world. Now the social rules and personal values she'd imposed upon herself were beginning to feel more like a cage. She felt trapped in the long sleeved, boned corset top. Weighted down by the mid calf wide full skirt and tulle petticoat underlay. It was the perfect Connecticut Christmas dress and a stupid choice for a humid Australian party beside the Jupiter's Casino Pool. If she'd been acting out of anything other than compulsion she wouldn't even have packed the dress. She'd have waited and found something more suitable for the climate. 

Large, round, white linen covered tables surrounded the pool. Dishes from the buffet dinner had been cleared and she was one of few people still seated at the tables. She looked around at the other women in their tropical sundresses, dancing to the Carols blasting from the DJ booth beside the Pool bar. 

Bing Crosby?

Did no one else realize the incongruity of sweating while listening to Bing croon about roasting chestnuts?

It was absurd. Truly absurd. 

She was absurd pointing out the obvious while everyone around her was having fun.

Grace let out a sigh.

Casting an eye across the Christmas drunk crowd—high on the coming holiday—Grace could find no other person sitting and shaking their head like her. She was the only one. If it had only been a matter of being the odd one out she'd have been fine. Connecticut born, she was bred for aloof social disconnection. She had no problem with being an island. Isolation was comfortably familiar feeling; in fact it was her default emotion. She'd been raised to believe a good Christmas gathering should be as frosty as familial relationships. Stilted and confined with minimal conversation and no physical contact.

Here the music was loud and the conversation even louder. Despite the cloying heat it seemed as if touch had been state mandated. Everyone hugged her, or even worse, kissed. A discrete check of her compact mirror showed her cheek to be a lipstick smeared rainbow. She wasn't used to the contact and couldn't help the immediate recoil she instinctively made each time she was touched. The need these people had for contact was baffling. She'd only been in Australia two months and with the University for a little over three weeks. Even at her going away party from the school she'd worked at for the last three years, she hadn't received such exuberant physical affection. 

"Are you as uncomfortable as you look Miss Hawthorne?"

The murmured question unnerved Grace, firstly because she thought herself better at schooling her emotions and secondly because of who asked.

Drew Maxwell.

He unnerved her. With his sharp features, steel grey hair and ice blue eyes he had the aura of a film noir detective. But it wasn't his arresting looks that made her uneasy—it was his voice.

It affected her. He affected her.

The lyrical rumbling burr elicited an unwanted physical response, as if he'd trailed his fingers down her spine. Deep and rich, it was a seductive mix of two accents—a Scottish burr softened by years of living in Australia.

"I'm fine. Thank you Mr. Maxwell." There was something about him that made her Connecticut ice rise. Even the most innocuous conversations with him had her speaking in frosty clipped tones. 

He leaned over. His knuckles brushed her skin as his fingers gripped the back of her chair. She recoiled at the heat of his skin and sat up to avoid the contact. He laughed. Low and rumbling. Leaning lower, until his breath tickled her ear he said, "Yes. You are fine. Aren't you? Cool and completely contained. Do you ever just let go?"

"Let go of what?"

He laughed again—the sound vibrating her ear. "And with that logic she answers my question."

He sat beside her. Unasked, uninvited he took the chair in which Brent should've been seated. Brent, who was on the other side of the pool engaged in conversation with the head of the School of Medicine.

 Engaged by her expansive chest anyway.

Glancing to her left she saw that Drew had also noticed. He'd followed her gaze and now he too was intently watching Brent. The flash of annoyance she felt was not due to Brent. His behavior didn't bother her; theirs had never been a jealous or possessive relationship. The anger that itched under her skin was because she'd been caught looking by Drew and it was obvious his interest had been piqued. The last thing she wanted to do was attract his focus. She had the feeling it would be difficult to shake. 

"Let go of what?" she repeated the question in an effort to distract him. Regretting it immediately, because suddenly all that focus she'd feared was now directed at her. Intense blue eyes. White blue, like chips of ice, radiating burning heat rather than cold. A weight settled in the pit of her stomach as those eyes locked with hers.

"You're so contained Miss Hawthorne. Confined like a tight flower bud. I wonder…does the bud ever unfurl? Burst into blooming color?"

Grace felt herself flush. A physical reaction as it rose from her chest and blazed a heated trail up her neck. He leaned in and rested an elbow on the table. He reached closer and trailed a long finger across her collar bone along the rising flush. "There's some pretty color," he murmured.

She took a drink of her champagne. Flat and warm, it sat stale in her mouth, not giving her the cool release she'd hoped. The liquid swallowed like a stone, a hard ball going down her throat. The finger at her collar bone moved, tracing patterns up her neck, hooking into a curl of hair that had come loose from her chignon in the humidity. He tugged on it and to her shame she could not hold back the shudder.

"Is that your husband over there with Professor Thane?"

She shook her head and he released his finger from her hair. "That's Brent," she said, "Dr Brent Sutcliffe. He's not my husband."

"Ah, fiancé."

Grace was fairly certain Drew already knew her personal situation and was trying to make some point at her expense. He wanted a particular response and she wasn't going to give it to him. She wasn't going to squirm, deny or justify the status of her relationship.

"Your boyfriend?" The word came out on a smirk.

Boyfriend. Grace hated that word. Hated admitting it. It sounded stupid, almost juvenile for a thirty five year old woman to have a boyfriend? But what other name was there for it? For him? What else could she call Brent? Lover—how gauche. Partner—sounded like a business transaction. There was no other word

Boyfriend, fiancé or husband. 

Society gave her no other choices.

At home, in Connecticut they didn't even live together. So, as much as it galled to Grace to say it Brent was her boyfriend.

"How long have you been together?"

"Eight years."

"Eight Years? Long time. You don't believe in marriage?" 

She felt a flash of anger. Of course she believed in marriage. It wasn't like Santa was it? It existed. She didn't deny its place in society. She didn't hate the institution. There was even a time when she imagined herself at an altar dressed in white with a Prince Charming of her own, but that was long ago. It irritated her that Drew had asked. That she felt the need to justify herself.

"You don't believe in minding your own business?" Grace felt her heart race at her biting response. She looked away, hoping to hide the flush that had returned to her face. She didn't like confrontation.

Drew laughed. Threw his head back and laughed. Laughter softened the angular lines of his face, making him beautiful in a way that clenched her stomach. Layered on top of the rush of adrenalin that confrontation brought, the feelings his laughter raised made her feel a little light headed. 

"You're a traditional girl aren't you Grace."

She was—exhibit A, the heavy satin dress—but wary of the potential ambush that could come of answering, she said nothing. Every conversation with this man seemed like some kind of honeyed trap. She waited, sitting stiff, preparing herself for whatever sting was to follow his baited line of questioning. 

What he said next was unexpected. It confused her, which was why she reacted the way she did, without thought, without planning. In the moment.

"I'd lay money that you're the only woman here in stockings and garter belt."

How did he know?

"You wear them every Christmas don't you Miss Hawthorne? This one particular pair."

It didn't occur to her to deny or not to answer—to tell him to again to mind his own business. Shocked at his perception she nodded. The garter belt was Christmas green with gold trim. She wore it every Christmas. With this dress.

"Did your Dr Sutcliffe see you put them on?"

She had to think a moment. Place where they both were as she got ready. Yes. Brent had seen her, he'd been telling her about the Tropical Medicine Seminar he was to attend early next year. She nodded and said, "Yes. He saw me."

His hand trailed lightly down her arm and murmured, "Did he ask you to bend over?"

She gasped and shook her head.

"Really? I would have. I would have sat down and asked you to bend that ripe peach of an arse over, right in front of me." He brought his hands up in front of his face and held them as if cupping her bottom. "Just for the pleasure of seeing you bend."

I should ask him to stop. I should tell him to go. It's inappropriate. 

The logical part of her brain protested, but Grace did nothing. Said nothing. She sat transfixed by his liquid voice and the lightly trailing finger that had now moved down under the tablecloth to make circles on her thigh. 

"Told you to spread your legs and grip your ankles. Can you do that Grace? Grip your ankles?"

She nodded. Her mouth was dry, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"With you bending over between my legs, your sweet arse right near my face I would have made you come. Stuck my fingers in your pussy until I felt the honeyed clench of your orgasm. I would have wanted to lick you clean, but I wouldn't. Do you know why?"

She shook her head. Still unable to talk.

"Because I'd have wanted your panties to be wet and sticky for the whole night. So each time you moved you'd know who wanted you."

A rush of liquid heat settled between her legs. 

"So Grace Hawthorne, did Dr Sutcliffe make you come?"

She shook her head again.

"I'd like to make you come. Come so hard and fast that your muscles seize in shock. That you beg me to stop because you think you might shatter."

She was panting. So loud it echoed in her head. Grace wondered if he could hear it too. She was hot. Sweat trickled down her neck, between her breasts. He looked cool. His linen shirt crisp and white, a mocking contrast to her damp flushed skin.

"Right here, right now."

"Here?" she asked, in a feeble voice. A voice that had never before issued from the mouth of Grace Hawthorne.

"Here. Before he comes back. He's on his way back now. Do you think you can do it? Do you think you can come before he gets back to the table?"

Grace glanced up to see Brent wave. She nodded back at him, unable to move her hands that were gripping the table edge. Drew had his hand under the crisp linen tablecloth, pulling back the edge of her cocktail dress. She didn't stop him. Under the layers of petticoat his fingers moved quickly. When he reached the lace of her garter he hooked a finger underneath the elastic and flicked. The snap against her soft skin made her jump. 

Still she didn't stop him.

Looking up, she found Brent. He'd had taken a detour to the bar. She watched him talk to the bartender, a chesty young girl guaranteed to keep his attention longer than the order of his scotch and soda. 

Why did that please her? That she had more time with Drew?

Drew's hand moved up to snake a finger under the elastic edge of her panties. Grace shifted forward on her chair and to her surprise she opened her legs to his fingers. 

"Aye. That's it. Good girl." He sounded Scottish now, the burr more pronounced. Under her bunched up skirt his fingers moved. They dipped into the embarrassing wetness that had pooled since his words and then moved up to slick against her clit. The sensation shot through her like electricity. Around their table people milled, glasses clinked and laughter sounded. Crooning Bing Crosby changed to Dean Martin. 

Lost in the feeling she swayed closer to Drew. He smelled musky, unadorned by cologne, just the smell of him. "Can you do it Grace? Can you let yourself go before he comes back?"

She looked up. Brent was walking back to the table, glass in hand. He smiled at her and tilted his head slightly towards Drew. As if to ask who he was. His eyes held only slight interest, no shock or suspected impropriety. Grace risked a glance at Drew. While his hand was under her skirt, his fingers speared in her body, rocketing her to orgasm, he was looking away. His face was a mask of indifference and for some reason that heightened the sensation of his fingers—turned her on more. He brought a wine glass to his lips and spoke quietly against the rim, "Are you ready Miss Hawthorne?"

She was ready. But Brent, was so close to the table. Could she do it before he returned?

Drew started a countdown. Low enough for her alone to hear, "Ten…nine…eight… seven…six…"

At five she tipped over and fell into orgasm. Plunged into it. Her thighs seized, snapping tight around his hand. She rocked in her seat against his trapped hand until it finished. His hand was still ensnared in her wet pussy when Brent made it back to the table.

"Grace. Darling, I'm sorry to have left you for so long."

"Is...Ok…Fine," she said proud of herself that she was even able to make that incoherent sentence.

After an uncomfortable silence that under normal circumstances Grace would never have tolerated Brent cleared his throat and offered his hand to Drew and said, "I'm Dr Brent Sutcliffe."

Through the fog of her orgasm aftermath Grace realized that Brent had been waiting for her to introduce him.

Drew slipped his fingers from her pussy and slowly ran them down her stocking clad thigh and then….

He stood and offered the hand that had just made Grace come to her boyfriend to shake. Brent did, with his usual dominant exuberance. 

"Pleased to meet you Brent, I'm Dr. Drew Maxwell."

Drew was a Doctor?

"Aaaah," Brent said with a wide smile, "What do you practice?"

"My guitar."

"Sorry?"

"That's what I tend to practice. I'm not so good at it, even though I've been playing it for years. That's why I've got a day job."

Brent didn't laugh, didn't even smile he just continued to stare at Drew who sighed and said, "I'm not a medical doctor Brent. I'm a doctor of philosophy. I have a Phd."

"Right. Well, good then." Brent's body language made it painfully obvious that honestly he thought it anything but good.

"In what?" Grace asked.

Drew didn't look at all bothered by Brent's reaction. He smiled and sat back down—in Brent's chair. Brent frowned, stood and shifted his feet for a while and then pulled out the chair opposite Drew. He sat, his resentment at Drew taking his chair obvious. 

Grace looked back from Doctor to Doctor. They weren't just opposites at the table. They were physical polar opposites. Drew—gun metal grey hair, lean, angular and rakish. Brent—All American blond, square jawed and broad. 

"My Phd?" Drew asked and Grace nodded.

"In english literature."

Grace heard Brent's derisive snort and cringed at the sound. There was no way that Drew could've missed it but he gave no outward appearance of hearing. He smiled, his eyes focused entirely on her, as if Brent did not exist.

"Do you teach?" Grace asked. Drew worked in the International Student's Department. He travelled to international trade shows and recruited students. As far as she knew anyway.

"I did, for a while. I like what I do now better."

"What use is your doctorate?" Brent asked.

"Beauty needs no use," Drew said, his eyes on Grace despite the fact he was answering Brent.

Drew stood, smiled and said, "Well, Grace, I wish your Christmas to be very merry my dear. I'll see you next year. Nice to meet you Brent."

He didn't call me Miss Hawthorne, Grace thought to herself as she watched him leave. Brent was speaking to her but she only caught the tone, none of the meaning. She was too focused on watching Drew walk away. Interrupting Brent mid sentence she said, "I'm just going to the bathroom."

When she hit the bright fluorescent lighting of bathroom Grace realized she had no memory of how she got there. Her body went on autopilot. Standing at the rows of hand basins she stared in the wall length mirror. 

Her cheeks were flushed, her chignon slightly mussed, her make-up faded but other than that she looked the same as when she arrived this evening.

But she wasn't the same. 

The woman who arrived in her traditional green satin Christmas dress didn't spread her legs and come on the hand of a virtual stranger. 

Who was this woman in the mirror? 

* * * *

Drew hadn't intended for that to happen. Of course from the moment he'd seen the cool and calm Grace Hawthorne he'd wanted to ruffle her. But he'd planned on a bit more of a subtle chase than sticking his fingers in her wet snatch at the Christmas party. 

It was her eyes that did it. They made him do it.

They were grey and far more expressive than she intended them to be. She'd strictly schooled the rest of her features. Outwardly she was perfectly measured and composed, except for the banked passion in those eyes. What he saw there he wanted to release and then tame. 

He wanted to tame her.

He leant up against the wall and watched her with her boyfriend.

 What a dick. 

Doctor Dick. That fool had no idea what he held. No appreciation. It was like handing a thick necked beer drinking footballer fine French wine. He'd drink it, but never, never appreciate the quality he held in his oafish hands.

And Grace was quality. She was passion wrapped in ice, waiting to be broken free.




Catch and Release



It was hard to walk away. He'd wanted to back her up against the wall lift all those petticoats and make her scream. Drive his cock into her over and over. Dirty that perfect Ice Queen façade. 

A hand brushed over the erection pushing against the zip of his linen pants.

"My, my, what have we here? A present all wrapped up for me?"

"I'm not so hard up that I need you just yet Jules."

The young and impossibly pretty gay man laughed and gave Drew's cock a friendly squeeze. "So who made this?" He craned his neck and looked out over the crowd, pausing when he noticed Grace. "Aaah our new American Ice Princess. I was wondering when you'd notice her."

"I noticed."

"So I noticed," Jules said with a pointed glance at Drew's crotch. "Who's the hunk-a-hunk with her?"

"Her boyfriend. Dr Dick."

"Seriously? Oooh I'd love a prescription from Dr Dick!" Jules gave a dramatic shudder which made Drew laugh. Jules was nothing if not entertaining.

"No he's Dr. Brent Sutcliffe and he's a dick."

"So she's taken then."

"Involved, but not taken I think."

Jules snorted. "Trust you to make that distinction. " 

Jules moved to lean his back against the wall beside Drew. "She's a cool one my friend, I think she'll be hard to catch. I'm not sure even you're up to it."

Looking over at Grace Drew nodded, agreeing. Even though he still had the smell of her desire on his fingers. He might've hooked her tonight, but he knew she was in no sense caught. 

Jules made an odd sound that made him turn to look at him. Jules was leaning closer and looking at him with an intensity that made Drew uneasy. "What?" he asked.

"I think she could be the one that makes you fall."

"Fall?" 

Fall? Unlikely. More like those grey eyes would suck him in. Trap him.

Jules turned so that his shoulder rested on the wall and he was facing Drew front on, "Very interesting. Quite Freudian really, I said fail, not fall."

"I don't think I'm in any danger of doing either." 

"Whatever you say," Jules said with another laugh.

"So, it's been great Jules but I'm off now."

"Places to go, people to do?"

Drew looked down at the erection pushing against his fly. "I've got to find something to do with this."

He walked away with a smile as he heard Jules's muttered, "I've got somewhere for you to put it."

* * * *

After she came back from the bathroom Grace immediately asked Brent if they could leave. She couldn't stand to be here a moment longer, the weight of what she'd done was suffocating—even heavier that the Satin dress. 

Of course despite her pleading a headache Brent wouldn't leave until he'd done the rounds, thanking the appropriate people. He was just as much a slave to convention as Grace.

Maybe that's why they were together.

Why was she cataloging reasons they were together? She shoved the reasons and the question to the back of her mind and slammed the mental cage door.

Brent came back to her and took her hand, immediately she contrasted the thick digits with Drew's long graceful fingers. 

Stop it.

She must have grimaced because Brent apologized for the delay and helped her to her feet. Brent was not big on apologies. Sure he spouted the words but they were rarely genuine. Looking into his truly concerned hazel gaze she felt a well deserved stab of guilt.

"Are you alright Grace?" Brent placed his palm on her head, feeling her temperature.

"I'm fine. Fine really. I just want to go home. I think it's the heat."

Brent nodded, placing a hand on her lower back he shepherded her through the crowd. When they were at the doors leading up to the hotel foyer Brent cursed. "Damn it! I left the car keys on the table. Will you be alright waiting here?"

Grace nodded and moved away from the doors, wanting to be out of the light. A light was a beacon to insects. Australian insects attacked with ferocity. She stood near the garden path that ran down the side of the building. It was darker, lit only by a sparse row of low garden lights. Grateful for the darkness, she sighed out loud. She wanted to stay out of sight and be alone with her guilty thoughts.

What had she done?

She heard a moan and gasp and without thinking looked to her left. Down the garden path she saw two figures locked in an intimate embrace against the wall. A man in a white shirt was pushed up against a dark haired woman. She had one leg hooked around his waist and her red floral skirt was rucked up over her hips. In the low light Grace could see pale naked skin. She obviously didn't feel the need to wear traditional Christmas underwear. The man's hand cupped her butt, long fingers splayed on the rounded flesh.

The woman moaned again and she heard the man's deep low laugh in response. A sound she'd heard before. 

It was Drew Maxwell.

The realization made her gasp, too slow she brought her hand up to muffle the sound. It wasn't enough, he'd heard and she stood frozen in shock as his face turned. The low light wasn't enough to mask the glint of his eyes. He saw her.

She watched him. He pushed the woman's leg down and turned her to face the wall, all the while watching Grace. The woman had her palms on the wall, her forehead resting on the smooth stucco. With a tug so hard it made Grace gasp Drew pulled the woman's hips back. With a hand to the small of her back he made her flatten out, pushing until her legs spread wide and her torso was almost parallel with the ground. She lowered her head, spilling her hair down like a black silk curtain, it was long, so long it almost touched the ground. She pushed against the wall and spread her hands wide for balance. 

The clink of metal told her he was unbuckling his belt. She found the sound as erotic as the scene. Grace watched his pants fall open over his hips to reveal his penis. Plum tipped it poked up from under his linen shirt. They watched each other. Drew looking at her as Grace intently watched his hand run up and down the wet tipped shaft. Grace tightened her legs, locking them together to stem the throb of her swollen sex. 

After a few slow strokes she watched him sheath his cock in a condom. The sight of him rolling the thin latex over his cock had Grace clenching her thighs in anticipation. With one hand on the woman's lower back and the other on the root of his cock he guided his shaft inside her. The woman let out a deep guttural sound of pleasure. Grace felt her nipples tighten and her pussy flood. She watched his hips move in slow deep thrusts. Without intent she found herself rocking in time with his thrusts, as if he was filling her. 

She wanted him to fill her.

"Grace. Grace Grace!"

She snapped her head around when she finally heard him. Brent was standing in the light, near the doors that led up to the foyer. He was shaking his head and holding up the car keys that dangled from his right hand. 

"Are you coming?"

She nodded and started to move forward as she heard the wailing sounds of what sounded like an orgasm coming from her left. She didn't look over. Couldn't. Not while Brent looked on. 

The foyer, the valet, the drive home all melded into a blur. The sound of Brent's key in the front door surprised her as she hadn't even realized they were home. Nothing had registered since she looked down the path. 

Before tonight, if asked, Grace would have said that she had a good sex life. Nothing that matched the intensity of romantic films and popular literature, but still quite satisfying. It ran to a predictable pattern that she found comforting. The nights that Brent would stay at her house they would have sex, Brent would initiate after they'd bathed and readied for bed. The signal to start was a hand to her butt that pulled her hips closer to him in bed. She would nestle for a moment against his erection and then turn to him and they'd kiss. She'd roll over on her back and he would enter her. She usually came, not during actual sex but after when Brent would rub her clitoris. Short, sharp orgasms she'd thought to be quite satisfying. But she'd never wailed, never issued a sound like the woman on the garden path.

Never been taken against a wall. Never been taken from behind.

After Brent locked the door behind her she turned to him and pushed him against the wall. He fell back with a surprised yelp. She pulled his head down and captured his mouth in a grinding kiss. 

"What Grace? What are you doing?" he spoke against her mouth. She ignored him, instead flattening her palm against his crotch. He wasn't hard, but he wasn't altogether soft either. She curled her fingers around his penis and milked it into hardness. When he was stiff she unbuckled his belt, the sound of metal spurring her on, making her think of Drew and the path. She pulled down his zip. Moving like she was possessed, she turned to face the opposite wall, shoving her hands under her dress she removed her panties. Rucking up her skirt she leant forward and splayed her hands on the wall, just like the woman on the path. She looked back over her shoulder at Brent's startled face. He was looking down at her bared ass shocked, as it he'd never before seen it.

She spread her legs wider and pushed her butt out at him.

"Please," she said rocking her bare bottom back towards his bobbing cock.

He took the hint and entered her. His hands went to her hips, the fingers digging in with each thrust. He did it wrong, not deep enough, not long enough. She tried to move her hips in the rhythm she needed but he took over, frantically thrusting like a rutting animal. Needing so desperately to come she took one hand off the wall and brought it down to her clit. She circled the swollen nub as Brent cried out hard and came inside her. It was too fast and too little. With her finger making the strokes that Brent would not she brought herself to orgasm, clenching hard around his softening cock.

She felt him slide out of her and pull her dress back down over her ass. He didn't speak. He didn't touch her again. She stayed leaning against the wall as he left. Her chest heaved, she was wet with sweat. The heavy green satin had darkened in a v between her breasts. Panting hard with her cheek pressed to the plasterboard she heard a door open and close and the shower turn on. 

While he was showering she went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. The house they were renting was old; the plumbing creaked and groaned so she knew when he had turned off the shower. Sure that the bathroom would be empty she went in, bathed, and conducted her usual nightly routine.

He was in bed laying in darkness when she entered. He said nothing. Lay still on his side of the bed. She pulled back the covers lay down on her back and waited. Still he said nothing and it wasn't long before she heard the soft snuffle of his sleeping snore.

He was asleep as if it hadn't happened. As if he hadn't just fucked her against a wall. If he could pretend, then so could she. Grace rolled over on her side facing the other wall. As she closed her eyes she thought of Drew, of imagining him guiding his cock into her instead of the red skirted woman. She slipped her hand down her stomach and to her clit. She played with the swollen nub before moving down to finger open the sticky lips of her cunt and dipping her fingers inside. She pushed one, two and three fingers deep and felt the muscles of her vagina snap tight. 

Orgasm came quickly. Sharp and intense. She bit down on her lip and rode out the sensations.

She wiped her fingers on her stomach and breathed deep, letting sleep take her hoping to dream of Drew.

* * * *

The University where Grace worked closed between Christmas Eve and New Year's Day. As Brent didn't have to work either they booked a hotel north of Cairns in a resort town called Port Douglas. For nine days they toured the local sights, ate too much and baked in the sun. It was a luxurious postcard perfect holiday that should have pleased her, but didn't. Rather than feeling relaxed she felt stagnant, resentful and restless.

It wasn't until the fourth night at the hotel that Brent initiated sex. It was the first time since the Christmas party. When he reached over and tugged her back against his erection she felt both relief and disappointment. While she'd feared a discussion of the hallway sex, she realized at the point he pushed his cock against her back that she'd also been craving it—hoping that it may have opened up a need in Brent as it had in her. 

It obviously hadn't.

Their sex that night and for the next four nights of their hotel stay went exactly like the usual routine. While Brent pumped away on top of her Grace thought of Drew. His wicked voice, his long fingers and the slippery desperate need he'd awakened in her. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Brent's fingers as Drew's, but the thick fingered fumbling of Brent was no replacement for the slick nimble touch of Drew Maxwell. After only a few minutes she gave up and faked an orgasm. Fake orgasms quickly became a part of her sexual routine. It appeared that Drew Maxwell had ruined her ability to come in Brent's bed.

What would happen when she saw him next? Did she want something to happen?

She'd never thought herself the type to have an affair. Those kinds of people were oversexed and illogical. Not like her. Why would anyone risk a long term stable relationship for mere sex? She'd never thought sex to be that important. To her it was simply a bodily function like any other, as such she'd found societal obsession with it quite baffling. 

Not now. Now she understood. 

She too was obsessed with sex. It filled her every waking thought and simmered in her dreams. She masturbated like a teenager. The shower massager had become an intimate friend. She'd thought of nothing other than sex and Drew Maxwell since the Christmas party.

She'd dressed with great care on her first day back to work, in anticipation of seeing him. 

One, two, three days past without a glimpse of Drew. 

The office was barren; as the next academic year didn't start until late February. She discovered most of the staff were on holiday. Grace spent her first week back not only without Drew but as the only working staff member in the Department.

The International Office was located in the basement of the Administration building. The halls hummed with the labored pulse of the building air-conditioning unit which was in a plant room at the end of the hall. Constructed in the mid 1960s when odd shaped public buildings were de rigueur, the Administration building was a bloated oblong that apparently was supposed to resemble a sailing ship. As much as she looked she could not see it. In tune with the nautical theme her tiny office had impractical rounded corners and only one high porthole shaped window that let in negligible light. It was dark, dank and cavernous; a stark contrast to outside where it felt like the sun was 10 feet away. 

The time alone was useful. Not only for giving herself the resolve to banish thoughts of an affair with Drew Maxwell, but also to learn her job as coordinator for visiting American students. The university had an academic exchange program with ten different United States Colleges. Her job was to liaise with those institutions and act as a counselor for the exchange students. When the academic year started in late February she would have 300 students to supervise and two part time staff to help. 

Slowly over January staff began to return. The first of which was Jules Starling, the office receptionist. Jules was a font of information, both procedural and gossip. She found herself gravitating to him, which was odd because his vibrant personality was not one with which she would usually click. She put it down to proximity and also to Jules relentless good cheer. He was truly irrepressible and even if she put her mind to disliking him Grace wasn't sure Jules would let her actually do it.

"Ooh, grey today. Matches the eyes."

Jules made a habit of stopping by her office every morning to comment on her dress choice. As he usually brought good coffee with the fashion commentary Grace didn't complain. Despite the relaxed dress standards of her colleagues Grace had been unable to break out of the habitual need to wear suits to work. Jules, himself a slave to fashion, had decided that Grace was his kindred spirit—his fashion twin—she knew this because he declared it in a loud voice on his second day back.

"Stockings?"

Grace swiveled her chair and stuck a leg out from behind her desk so Jules could see her hosiery. He placed the steaming mug on her desk and reached over to run a hand up her calf. "Mmmm, silky,' Jules purred.

Grace was laughing and Jules was still bent with his hand wrapped around her calf when she heard that voice.

"What have we here? Do you covet the shoes Jules or has the lovely Miss Hawthorne convinced you to switch teams?"

Drew's voice made her jump, she shifted in her seat as if to stand but Jules had a firm grasp of her ankle and wouldn't let her move. Rather than be embarrassed about being found caressing her leg, Jules played it up. Moving into a crouch he held her ankle up as if to present it to Drew and with his other hand slowly ran it up her leg until it rested just below the elastic band of her stay up stockings. Something electric passed between the two men with her as a conduit. An undercurrent that was palpable if not easily understood. 

"You're back," Grace said in an overly friendly tone, trying to dispel the tension. She sat upright and gently removed Jules's hand from her leg. 

"Yes," Drew replied, his ice blue eyes following Jules as he moved up from his crouch to sit in one of the guest chairs. In a childish move Jules deliberately bumped his shoulder into Drew as his passed. Rather than frown or retaliate Drew surprised her with a quick and affectionate laugh.

"Did you spend Christmas with family?' Grace asked to make polite small talk, hoping in a way to reset their relationship. Making it seem as if she couldn't recall that the man standing in front of her had pressed his fingers inside her when she was slippery and wet.

"No family," he said as he sat in the other guest chair beside Jules. "How about you, did you enjoy Christmas with your boyfriend?"

"Dr. Dick?" Jules asked with an angelic face.

"Doctor what!"

"Dr. Dick." Jules looked back and forth between a shocked Grace and Drew. "Isn't that your boyfriend's name? Drew told me it was."

"Really?" Grace turned her head to look at Drew who didn't look at all flustered; he was looking at Jules with an amused half smile.

"Oh no silly boy. You must be confused with what you asked Santa for Christmas Jules. Boyfriend's name is Brent. Dr Brent Sutcliffe. Isn't that right Miss Hawthorne?"

Jules leaned towards Drew and gave a deliberate and measured look at his crotch. "No Drew darling, you misheard. I asked Santa for a Big Dick, not Doctor Dick."

Grace sat back and watched the interaction with curiosity. It was like a kind of smutty fighting. Drew didn't seem averse to Jules's obvious interest, not like any other heterosexual man she knew. Not like Brent. He avoided homosexual men as if he was afraid their sexuality might be contagious. No way would he ever sit and comfortably play flirting verbal games with someone like Jules.

"So did the good doctor get you everything you wanted for Christmas?" Drew asked.

Grace couldn't help the flush that rose at Drew's tone. It was blatantly sexual. Maybe just to her because when she flicked her eyes to check what Jules was thinking he didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"Yes Gracie what did you get for Christmas? You haven't told me," Jules said, standing up and making his way to the door.




Catch and Release



"Oh, well we went to Port Douglas. The holiday was present enough."

"No present?" Jules said as he leant against the doorframe, "You're right Drew. Boyfriend is Dr. Dick. See you for lunch Gracie." He gave a quick wave. " And you Drew Maxwell," he said with a dramatic flourish at the man in question , "can see me anytime you want."

Drew chuckled, "I know where to find you."

"You're alright with that?" Grace asked when she was sure that Jules was safely out of earshot.

"OK with what? Jules? Why do you ask? You seemed quite friendly with him yourself."

"With his teasing. About you know…" she let the sentence trail off, hoping he gott the meaning.

"With you know? Do you mean sex Miss Hawthorne? That Jules wants to fuck me?"

Grace gasped at his bluntness and brought a hand up to her mouth in shock. 

His mouth curled up in a lilting half smile that seemed to match his melodic burr, "I'm not concerned by it. Are you? Does it bother you because you want to fuck me too?"

"No. No I don't….You can't…It doesn't bother me…because…I…"

"I know," he said, lifting the other side of his mouth, turning the half smile into a full smirk, "It doesn't bother you because you want to watch."

She turned away from his intense ice blue gaze. Grace had never before thought of two men together as erotic—never before really thought about two men sexually at all. Where would she even start? The shocking image of Drew and Jules locked in an embrace filled her mind. She saw the garden path but this time it was Jules bent over, his blond hair falling over his eyes, his mouth open, moaning and Drew behind him, thrusting. Her nipples tightened to hard points and a rush of heat settled to throb between her legs. 

Her phone rang. The sound shocking her out of her fantasy. Before she could reach over to answer it Drew placed his hand over hers. "It's Jules," he said. "Check the extension." She looked down to see Jules's extension flashing on the screen. "Let it go to voice mail. I don't think you want to talk to him now. Not the way you've just been picturing him." Drew silenced the phone by pressing a button and diverting the call to voicemail.

"I haven't…I wasn't." She was babbling again.

He settled back down in the guest chair and said, "Yes you have and yes you were. Tell me. Tell me what you saw."

His voice was seductively low. Compelling.

She shouldn't. She didn't have to, but for some reason she did. "The garden path…I saw you like you were with that woman on the garden path, but with Jules instead."

"And did it turn you on? Are you wet?"

She nodded.

"Good. So, you like to watch. And you've got a homoerotic kink. Still waters run deep don't they Miss Hawthorne? I wonder what else we'll discover about you."

He stood from his chair and Grace saw that was not as unaffected by her confession as his cool façade portrayed. Behind the zip of his black jeans was the definite bulge of an erection. She waited, holding her breath to see what he would do next, say next... but he said nothing. He just left. Left her sitting with panties damp and clit throbbing. For the first time in her life Grace was considering masturbating at work. 

* * * *

It was difficult to leave her like that—cheeks rosy, eyes glowing with newly discovered lust. She was untamed heat, unreleased passion. A sexual diamond in the rough. For a man like him, the kind of man who loved the challenge of unpolished lust she was a rare find. An intoxicating mix of base desire, naivety and class.

And Jules. Another surprise. Finding him cradling her foot like a devoted neophyte. Need kindling in those vulnerable doe brown eyes of his. Had Jules ever even been with a woman? 

Drew shared an office with two others. A large room divided into a meeting area and three offices divided by three quarter walls. Sharla saw him enter and moved over for a kiss. She pressed her ample chest against him, rolling her hips into his in obvious invitation. He pulled away before she could add tongue. Sharla called herself try-sexual—as in if it were sex she'd try it. She was a lush divorcee in her early forties and completely devoid of shame which made her an adventurous lover. Drew had scratched a need with her before, but he wasn't interested right now. Right now he wanted a naïve blonde with cool grey eyes. 

The other staff member they shared office space with was still on holiday. Lucy wouldn't be back until after term began. 

"Not interested Drew?" Sharla asked without a hint of jealousy. Sharla offered but never stressed if she was turned down. To her there was no reason to sulk as there was always another man, woman or toy to play with. 

"No thanks Sharla."

"Do you have another game set up already? I haven't seen the pool."

He shook his head at the thought of that damn pool. Each year the staff loved to bet on his conquests. They called the game 'catch and release' as if he was some kind of sexual fisherman. The pool was organized by Richard Drake, but Drew had his suspicions that it was Jules who provided all the information. Since the arrival of Jules three years ago the pool had become much more astute. Before that they hardly caught half his actual conquests. 

"No game Sharla."

"New Year's Resolution?"

"Something like that."

She made a dismissive snort like noise and said, "I'm off to see Nancy at Medicine. I won't be back until this afternoon."

Drew nodded and moved to his office. His next trip wasn't until March but he had some reading to catch up on. He opened his email to find yet another request from Professor Daniels for him to return to lecturing this year. He replied with a simple No. 

No explanation, he wouldn't, he couldn't lecture again—couldn't even think about it. If he did…

"Why so glum?" 

Drew looked up to see the pretty face of Jules Starling peering around his cubicle wall. He met his boyish eyes and said, "Not glum Jules. Thinking. You might want to try it some time."

"If you say so. But I don't see the appeal, it might give me wrinkles."

Drew couldn't help an indulgent smile; Jules was far too charming to resist. Resting his chin on his hand he asked, "Did you want something Jules?"

"Ooh such an open ended question. You should know better than that!"

Without waiting for an invitation Jules entered his office pushed the books from his guest chair and sat down. 

"Why are you here?" Drew asked.

"What are you doing with Gracie?' 

He laughed not because Jules asked, but because he looked so earnest and young defending Miss Hawthorne's honor. "Jules, I think the real question is what you think you're doing with the lovely Miss Hawthorne?"

The young man flushed bright red—confirming Drew's suspicions that Jules was indeed experiencing new and strange feelings for Grace. 

"Have you kissed her?" Jules blurted out the question. It exploded from him like an eruption. 

"No, I haven't kissed her," Drew said truthfully. He'd felt her come around his fingers but he'd never touched his lips to hers. He didn't kiss. Not conquests, kissing was too intimate a connection. 

It was interesting that Jules was so focused on kissing. Not fucking, but kissing. He wondered…

"Do you want to kiss her Jules?"

Jules deer eyes widened and he nodded.

Interesting.

"Have you ever kissed a woman?" Drew asked.

Jules shook his head and looked down somewhat shame faced. 

"It's different to a man. They're softer. Smoother. They smell different, taste different."

"You've kissed a man?" The look of shocked wanting on Jules's face turned Drew on. Sheer unbridled lust on such a young face gave him an unparalleled high. 

"Yes, I have."

"Will you kiss me?" his voice was soft, yearning. It spoke to Drew, to the part of him that liked to control—to dominate.

"Maybe. If you'll do something for me."

"What?"

Right now Drew was reasonably sure there wasn't much that Jules wouldn't do to taste his mouth. It was a heady rush of power that he was sorely tempted to abuse. 

Anything.

He could get this beautiful boy to do anything. He tamped down the feeling, denying the need to test his limits and instead asked for what he'd wanted when he first posed the question. "I want Grace left out of the catch and release pool."

"What?" Jules flushed deep red, he stammered, "I don't have anything to do with that, it's all Drake."

"Drake draws it up but you're the information source." 

The young man shook his head again and Drew raised a hand to cut him off before he could voice another denial, "You do. I'm not angry Jules so there's no need to deny it. All I want is that you keep Miss Hawthorne's name out of this year's catch. If Drake has any questions you'll just put him off."

"And you'll kiss me."

"Yes. I'll kiss you."

"Now?" Jules licked his lips. His pink tongue darted out in a nervous swipe of his lips. An action of which he was most likely completely unaware. Lust uncurled in Drew's stomach like a hot lick of fire. While he wore his sexuality in blatant Technicolor Drew had no doubt that Jules was mostly innocent. He had an air of delicious unsullied freshness. Drew found himself suddenly wanting to taste that freshness.

"Promise me and I'll kiss you now."

Jules nodded and tilted his head expectantly.

"No. I want to hear the words."

"I promise. I'll make sure that Grace is kept out of the catch and release pool."

"Good."

Drew stood, unfolding himself from the chair with deliberate calm. He kept his eyes on Jules in the couple of short steps it took to reach him across the cubicle. The young man made a move to stand but Drew stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Jules shuddered under his palm and when he met Drew's gaze he could see with certainty how his commanding touch affected him.

It had been a long time since he'd kissed another man. If you could even call the young beauty beneath his hands a man—more boy than man. He cupped Jules' chin, skin so soft it carried only the lightest sheen of silky stubble. Drew traced his thumb across his lower lip and felt the boy shudder at his touch. He leaned into him. Jules' eyelids fluttered shut, such a naively romantic move that it made Drew smile.

He wanted to make this special Drew realized as he leaned closer. He wanted to make this the best kiss that Jules had ever had. 

Would ever have.

He wanted Jules to think of this kiss the next time he took his cock in hand. The thought of Jules thinking about him and masturbating sent a shaft of heat straight to Drew's hardening dick.

"Please," Jules pleaded with eyes shut tight.

"Yes," Drew said just before he swept his tongue across the boy's full lower lip. Jules' mouth opened up at the touch and Drew took the invitation. He brushed his tongue lightly at first, teasing until he heard Jules' desperate whimper then he cupped his hand at the back of Jules' neck and took his mouth hard. 

Kissed him like a man—hungry, hard and in total control.

In control until Jules shifted his hand to his basket and lightly brushed fingertips across his erection. Just that flickering touch made Drew snap. He pulled Jules up out of the chair and crushed the young man to him. Jules writhed into him, bumping his erection against Drew's in a rhythmic circle action. Each electric touch of Jules' dick pulsed through him. Fuck, it felt good.

So good.

He had to end this. End it now or push the boy down to suck his cock.

That thought snapped Drew back to reality. This was supposed to be just a kiss. A kiss that he had control of—but he'd lost control. He needed to take it back. Drew pulled back, just enough to tease. Holding Jules at arms length, close enough to kiss but far enough away from those amazing writhing hips. Drew kissed, he licked and sucked at those full soft lips until Jules was panting with need. 

And then.

And then he pulled away and smiled at the young man's desperate face as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if the kiss had meant nothing.

Drew cleared his throat and said with deliberate calm, "So we have a deal. You keep Miss Hawthorne out of the catch and release pool."

"Yes," Jules said in a shaky voice, sounding fragile and young. 

Too young.

"Great." Drew nodded and moved back to sit at his desk. "If there's nothing else—I need to catch up on my email—you should go," he said not even bothering to look up at Jules. He couldn't. He couldn't meet those devastating eyes.

What was it lately with eyes? Grace's cool grey and Jules Bambi brown—they were shredding his sanity. Not that he had a lot anyway—not since…

Fuck! There he was thinking about that again.

He brought a hand up and raked it through his hair. He couldn't think about it. Couldn't lose control and feel it all again. The first email he opened was about his next trip overseas. Two months away. He could last two months. He'd just have to be careful around those eyes.

* * * *

Jules Starling still had his fingers on his lips when he returned to the reception desk. For the whole walk back from Drew's office—up two flights of stairs—he'd been unable to stop touching them. He sat, for how long he wasn't sure, just pressing his fingers against the tingling skin. 

That kiss.

Better than sex. Better than any sex that he'd had anyway. If he kissed like that what would sex be like? What would Drew Maxwell pushing inside him be like? And just like that Jules was rock hard again. He shifted on his chair and pulled at the waistband of his jeans, trying to find a position that didn't feel like his balls were strangling.

"Jules, do you think you could give me a lift home today please? Brent is working late and I'd rather avoid the bus if I could."

Jules looked up to see the cool grey eyes of Grace Hawthorne looking at him from across his desk. She had her elegant hands linked together on the high top and had her beautiful chin resting on top of them.

She tilted her head and asked in a soft voice, "Are you alright?"

It was her softness that Jules most liked about Grace. She had a gentle way about her. She didn't rush or shout like so many others he knew. She wasn't obvious. She was subtle and cool. The coolness drew Jules, unlike any woman ever before. Women had never been on his radar—never before Grace anyway.

She repeated her question, "Are you OK?"

He nodded and touched his fingers again to his lips.

"Don't worry about the lift Jules. I'll be fine to take the bus. It's no issue, really," Grace said as she stood tall, squaring her shoulders and looking like the unaffected Ice Queen that Jules had come to quickly adore.

"After I drive you home can I stay?"

"Stay?" She tilted her head and looked perplexed. Jules wanted so desperately for her to say yes that he suddenly found himself nervous.

"For a drink…ummm and a talk?"

The shy little smile that slowly revealed itself was just gorgeous. Serenely beautiful.

Grace Kelly—that's who she is, Jules thought. 

"Yes of course. I'd like that. I'd really like that Jules." She reached across the reception desk and took his hand in hers. Those beautiful cool fingers were wrapped around his when over her shoulder he saw Drew Maxwell. He stood at the entry way looking at their entwined hands. 

What is he thinking?

Jules watched his eyes flick between him and Grace. Over and over and then he gave a brief shake of his head and left.

What did that mean? Was it him or Grace that made him shake his head? Or was it the sight of both of them that rattled the great Drew Maxwell?

Jules had seen the way Drew watched Grace. Like a big cat watching prey—biding his time, sleek and ready to pounce. It was obvious that Drew wanted Grace. Obvious to Jules anyway, because of the way that he watched Drew. In the last three years of working at the University Jules had perfected the sport of watching Drew Maxwell.

He prided himself on knowing his every move, but he'd been shocked in Drew's office. Shocked by that kiss. 

Maybe Drew too had been shocked?

* * * *

"Take down your hair."

Grace put her hand up to the ponytail she'd gathered her hair into after work and shook her head. "It's too hot Jules."

"Come on! I want to see it. It's always up. I was hoping when you went into the bathroom before you were going to let it all down. Come on Rapunzel. Do it. For me. Please." Jules had such a sweet face that it was difficult to deny him anything. From the cheeky grin he wore Grace was pretty sure he knew it too.

"Fine," Grace conceded, removing the elastic band and standing to shake out her hair. She fluffed it out with her hands and was about to make a pithy comment when she was struck dumb by the look on Jules' face.

It was such a man's look.

Not that Jules wasn't a man. He was—of course he was—but she hadn't really thought of him that way. Not in the way that a woman thinks of a man. He was sprawled in one of the deck chairs, legs spread, a beer in hand watching her in almost predatory male way.

No, he couldn't be, Grace argued with herself. She was being crazy. Jules was gay. Openly so—a gay man wouldn't want her. He was just looking, that's all. Just looking. It was when she heard the incoming message chirp of her Blackberry that she realized that she was still standing on the verandah staring at him—with him still looking at her—and she wasn't sure how long it had been.

She entered through the French doors to the kitchen where her Blackberry was sitting on the bench. She took it out of the leather pouch and scrolled down the screen to another 'working late' text from Brent. There'd been quite a few of those since their Christmas break. Despite the fact that they were now living together Grace found herself with more time on her hands than she'd had back in Connecticut. 

Before placing the Blackberry back in the leather pouch and slipping it in the pocket of her khaki shorts, Grace arched her back and sighed. What was worse, she wondered, that it seemed Brent was avoiding her, or that she didn't seem to care?

"Do you want another beer?" Grace called out to Jules in a way that would've mortified her mother. A Hostess does not shout drinks—Grace could hear the clipped tones play in her head.

"Yeah thanks love," came the equally casual call out from the verandah.

After refilling her wineglass and uncapping another beer for Jules she walked back through the French doors to the verandah. One of Jules' sunny smiles went a long way towards making her feel better. She was glad that he'd asked to come in for a drink. Without him, she realized that she would've been quite desperately lonely.

Lonely.

How odd for a woman who prided herself on isolation.

"Why so sad sweetpea?" Jules asked as she sat down in the Adirondack beside him. 

"Not sad—just thinking."

"You're the second person to say that to me today."

"Really?" Grace said, folding her legs under her and turning in the chair to face Jules. She took a sip of her wine and placed the glass on the wide wooded arm of the deck chair and asked, "Who was the other?"

"Drew Maxwell."

"Drew," Grace said slowly, "What's his story?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well he's got a doctorate doesn't he? In English Literature. You'd think he'd be teaching—not recruiting students."

"I know that the Head of School is always asking him to teach but he won't."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him?"

Grace felt herself flush red. A burning sensation that crept up her chest to her hairline. Jules locked his big brown eyes on her and asked, "What's with the blush Grace? Have you and Drew been naughty?"