Double Booked

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WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: Selena Kitt Double Booked © 2008 Sommer Marsden eXcessica publishing All rights reserved

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Double Booked By Sommer Marsden

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Chapter 1

Johnny with Sheila. Johnny fucking Sheila in the back of my SUV. Johnny’s pale ass rising and falling as he fucked her. That birthmark on his right ass cheek. Undulating in the faulty light from the streetlamps. Sheila calling out his name like a cat in heat, “Fuck me, Johnny, fuck me!” I wanted to yank her hair and tell the dumb bitch that he was fucking her. Was she not paying attention? But that would have been useless. Just as useless as hurling my high heels at his pale, pistoning ass. Useless but appropriate. So I did it anyway. One of the stilettos had left a long red streak on his white skin. “Blyth! I…” His eyes wide and scared. His face paler than his ass now that he had been caught. “Go on,” I shouted. “Go on, I cannot wait to hear this. What you slipped and fell into her? Oops, you tripped and your dick slid home before anyone knew it would happen?” His mouth had opened. Closed. Opened. Closed. A good impression of a guppy or a grouper. “I…” “You, are an asshole. Give me my shoes.” He handed them over. His cock now withered and sad. Sheila eyeing me both maliciously and fearfully as if she couldn’t decide how she felt. Her naked breasts hanging to the sides. That solved that mystery. They were real. “Now both of you get the fuck out of my car. Go screw somewhere else.”

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I didn’t even let them get dressed. They stepped out of the back of my vehicle into the warm summer night, half clothed and stunned. I got in and drove off. I would have to collect my things later. I watched them shrink in the rearview mirror. Still clambering into their clothes in the parking lot of the apartment complex. “I hope your dick falls off!” I yelled to no one but myself and slammed my fists on the steering wheel. Then I drove to Craig’s house and rang the bell. “That jerk cheated on me,” I sobbed and heard the security lock disengage as he pressed the button to let me enter. Then it was me, crying, angry, shocked in Craig’s arms as he stroked my hair and calmed me down. Neither of us were surprised exactly. Johnny was an ass. We both knew that. We’d both known that. “He’s an ass,” Craig reminded me. “I know,” I sniffed, “but for whatever reason I wanted him to be my ass.” “You’ll find a new ass,” he said. And then we both laughed. **** All of this flashed through my mind as I took exit 18 off the beltway. Ten minutes and I would finally be there. I could peel my sticky thighs off the hot leather seat and get into the beach house. I would take a shower, pour a nice cold glass of wine, smoke a cigarette and take my first deep breath in two months. Two months since I caught Johnny dicking around on the side. Two months of moping and fretting. Two months with no dates, no sex, and no interest. I was suddenly grateful for Craig putting his foot down.

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“You’re going to the ocean. You’re staying in my beach house. You are going to fucking relax and regroup. Then you are getting back on the horse that threw you. The one named, “men” and get back in the saddle.” No amount of protesting made him change his tune. He was friends with my boss, so he went behind my back and scheduled me a mental holiday. Brian had come in the week before, handed me some papers to sign for vacation leave approval. I had balked. He had threatened to fire me if I didn’t sign them. Though, I would normally ruffle at men, even friends, telling me what to do or assuming they knew what was best for me, in this instance I caved. Maybe they did know what was good for me from a distance. On the outside looking in, as opposed to my trapped on the inside screaming to get out. I signed the papers. I shook my head as I turned off the exit and onto Poplar Lane. Luckily I had been to the beach house before. I didn’t have the added stress of trying to find it. I went on autopilot. I parked alongside a black Toyota Tundra and climbed out with a sigh. My overnight bag, the bottle of wine and my purse were all I’d need at the moment. Once I had that shower and drink, I’d unload the rest of my stuff. I grabbed the take out menu shoved in the railing on my way up the steps. Hun’s Chinese. Sounded good. “Shower, wine, Chinese take out,” I murmured to myself and fit the key in the lock. I swore I heard someone laughing but the sound faded. The place was already crawling with vacationers. Only a few residents lived here year round.

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The door swung open and there it was again. The laughter. Only louder this time. It was coming from inside the house. I stepped back, checked the house number. “Right house,” I said aloud. I’d have to stop talking to myself at some point. I followed the laughter that had escalated to wild shrieks. Not the kind that say I’m being murdered. The kind that say, I’m having fun. I followed them all the way to the master bedroom that is normally Craig’s when we come for a beach trip. I pushed open the door, still clutching the key in my hand. Pale ass pumping. Long legs around his waist. His ass so pale because the rest of him was tanned to a lovely cinnamon. Big biceps, impressive forearms. Cock that would make any girl smile from what I could see. And she was smiling and shrieking as he captured her nipple between perfect white teeth and tugged until it was stretched nearly double in length. Neither had noticed me. He was thrusting, hard and fast now. I watched mesmerized was his ass flexed, his thighs went taut and then tauter still. I watched the elusive slide of his cock into her cunt. I watched how her toes curled when he pounded into her. I watched her head go back, her eyes roll just a touch as he became nearly frantic. He was going to come. She was going to come. And judging by the moisture seeping into the crotch of my sweat soaked panties, I might come, too. I clutched the wine and the key and stared. In my mind, I knew I should move but I couldn’t seem to pull it off. I watched. I waited. I held my breath. She came first. Whoever this red headed, fair-skinned, freckled sex goddess was. She came with a banshee cry. Loud and long and lusty. He waited. I could tell he waited. I saw his stubble darkened jaw clench as he held on, never slowing his pace but

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holding on for her to finish. And when she did, he went rigid, his face grew dark. I saw his fingers flex into the white sheets. Burrow into the mattress. I saw his body arch like a bow about to be shot and then he growled out an orgasm like some kind of animal. That’s when I gasped. Loud. And both sets of eyes turned to me. The red head gave a little shriek. Covered her breasts. Her blue eyes flashing first fear and then anger. I doubt I looked intimidating, clutching my wine and blushing six shades of red. He grinned. Grinned! A bad boy grin that only served to increase the moisture in my underpants. “You must be Craig’s other guest. I’m Anthony Street and this is June. You‘ll forgive us if we don‘t get up?” “Um…” “And you are?” “Cursed, apparently,” I hissed and fled the room. **** I threw my bag and the wine on the daybed in the guest room, locked the door and whipped out my cell. Craig answered, “Yes, Blyth.” I could hear the smile in his voice. Motherfucker. “Is this some sort of insane therapy?” I barked. “Confront me with the same situation that I have been mentally rehashing for months. Because if that’s what this is,” I yelled into the phone, “then it’s just fucking cruel and you should be ashamed of yourself.” “Slow down! Slow down!” Craig was yelling.

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But I couldn’t. “I don’t know how you two coordinated this. I don’t know who the hell he is. I don’t know who the fuck she is for that matter, but I have to say, my feeling are hurt! Craig, you’re supposed to be my friend and you set me up!” I was so angry, I was pacing. I could hear them moving around out there in the main room. The fucking strangers. The plants. The couple. Whoever they were. “I knew you’d balk if Anthony were there, so I didn’t tell you. Beyond the fact that I double booked the house, so to speak, I have no clue what you're ranting about, honey.” “Them,” I hissed against the mouthpiece. I come into the house to hear what sounds like a cat being boiled in oil. To find…” Now I was sputtering like an offended spinster. I shivered with shame and anger all rolled into one, “some bronzed beach guy fucking some redhead senseless. It was just like when I walked right into finding Johnny and Sheila together, only he has a nicer ass and better arms.” I flopped onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. “Oh.” “Yes, oh! I take it that wasn’t planned?” “Of course it wasn’t planned, Blyth. You’re my friend, I’m not cruel enough to have him time them screwing to you arriving. I didn’t think that would happen.” “Well it did,” I said with a little less vehemence. I shifted on the blue quilt, my panties still wet, and to be honest, a steady thump of arousal still working between my thighs. My mind flashed to the pink vibrator in my bag. In the car. All the way out in the

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car. I’d have to be patient about it, but now that the anger was fading, I had a feeling that the pink gizmo would get a run for it’s money later. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. Look, I have no idea who she is. This woman. But Anthony has been my friend since we were ten. He’s in town scoping out a new job and I offered him the house for a few weeks. I knew I’d never convince you to go if the enemy was in the house.” “The enemy?” “A man!” he laughed. “I haven’t gotten that bad, have I?” I asked him. I felt petulant and tired and ready for that drink. “Pretty much, honey. There are days I wonder if you might turn on me.” “Never. I would never⎯” “You just did,” Craig reminded me. “Because I thought you had set me up.” “Well to a degree I did, and for that I’m sorry, but it was with good intentions. You should know I’d never set you up like that, though. Right?” “Right,” I sighed. “Now what?” “Now what?” he echoed. His deep laughter rumbled through the ear piece. “Now you have a choice. You can spend two lovely weeks relaxing in a beautiful house, by a beautiful beach. Of course, you’ll have to remember what you learned in Kindergarten. Share, take turns, all that stuff. Or⎯” “You’ll send him home and I can have the house to myself?” I suggested, only half joking.

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“Sorry. Not gonna happen. Or you can come home and hole up in your hot, lonely apartment for two weeks.” “I could go back to work.” “Nope. Brian said you weren’t stepping foot through that door until the two weeks is up. No matter what.” I wanted to throw the phone but I’m not stupid. “Fine. I’ll stay.” “That’s my girl.” He hung up. I went into the very small guest bathroom and took my shower. I tried not to fume over the fact that I had been expecting to have use of the very large master bath. Or the fact that they were out there, most likely laughing at me. Or admit to myself that I was still so turned on I was eyeing the cylindrical shampoo bottle. I managed not to admit it all the way up to the point where I started stroking my clit with gentle soapy fingers and slid the bottle into my eager cunt. It didn’t take long. Behind my closed eyes I saw him fucking her. His perfect flanks, broad back, long, thick cock. I saw her raspberry colored pussy swallowing it with each thrust. With that behind my eyelids, with my fingers playing over my clit and the bottle deep inside me, I came. Hard and long. Biting my lip, supporting myself on the smooth tiled wall. I came and I pushed everything but the feeling of coming right out of my head. **** When I came out of the bedroom, post orgasmic calm still radiating through me, he was sitting on the sofa. Long legs out in front of him, feet propped on the coffee table. He had on gray gym shorts and nothing else. They rested low on his lean hips and I could see how hard his stomach was. That he had an inny belly button. And that

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wonderful line of dark hair that ran from his navel to mysteriously trail below his waistband. He had showered as well. I made my way to the kitchen bar and pulled down a wine glass. I didn’t realize I was clutching the bottle like a talisman until I released it with a thunk onto the Formica. I glanced at him and he grinned at me for the second time that day. The smile touched his green eyes. I shivered just a little under his gaze. His hair was dark and a little too long. A piece hung over his forehead giving him a dangerous look. “So, let’s try again,” he said sipping a Rolling Rock. “I’m Anthony. Craig and I pretty much grew up together. Nice to meet you…?” The question was evident in his tone. “Blyth. Blyth Monroe. Sorry about all that.” I felt my face grow hot, so I busied myself pouring my wine and popping an ice cube in the glass. I put the rest of the bottle in the fridge to chill. I could feel his eyes on me and I suddenly felt as if I were naked instead of clothed in denim shorts and a tank top. I cleared my throat. “So…where’s your…um…friend?” “She ran out to the store. She’ll be back soon enough. You startled her.” “You startled me!” I retorted and then quickly sipped my wine. No reason to be snippy and rude. “I’m sorry. I’m getting over a break up and I found you two in nearly the same scenario as the night I caught them. I think it just threw me. I didn’t mean to upset either one of you.” “You stood there for an awful long time,” he said softly. The baseball game on the TV was set at a low volume. I heard him clearly but still said, “What?”

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“I could see you. In the mirror on the nightstand,” he said. He ran his big fingers over the neck of the bottle until they came away wet with dots of condensation. Then he locked his gaze with mine and that grin emerged again, fast and fierce. My stomach bottomed out like I was on a roller coaster. “You were there for a while. You could have turned and walked away. Right away. But you didn’t, Blyth. Why?” He raised one eyebrow and I felt my nipples go rigid under the cotton tank. This man was a nut. And he made me feel out of control. I squirmed under his gaze and crossed my hands over my traitorous breasts. “I was stunned.” He shook his head and his shaggy hair flew about his face. “Nah. Stunned is letting out a whoop and dropping your stuff. Stunned is staggering out of the room. Fainting. Fleeing. Crying. Stunned is something else. You stood and watched.” I shrugged. “That’s how I felt. All I can tell you is how I felt.” “I think you liked what you saw. I watched you. You took it all in and you still stayed. Stunned might be true for the first thirty seconds. After that, you became a voyeur.” My hand started to shake. I was angry because of his accusations. I was scared because part of me agreed with him. “I⎯” He cut me off. “What did you just do in the shower, Blyth?” He said it casually. Everything about him was casual. His tone, his body language. Not a tense muscle or a nervous twitch. He was perfectly at ease calling me a pervert and then asking me if I had just masturbated. Because that was definitely what he meant.

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“Took a shower,” I snapped and downed about half my wine in a single gulp. I clutched the glass so he couldn’t tell my hands were shaking.

“You’re flushed.” He ran his hand over the ridges of his muscular belly. For just a second he swept his big hand across the front of his shorts. Over the area where I was certain, an impressive cock lay dormant. “It was a hot shower,” I amended, my throat suddenly dry. My cunt suddenly wet. I was a mess. “No, no,” he tsked and shook his head. He ran his fingers over his cheekbones, then over the highest part of his chest. Where his cleavage would be if he were a woman. “You’re flushed high on your cheeks and on you décolletage. Usually only comes with orgasm.” “My, you are an expert, aren’t you?” I snapped. He nodded quite seriously before smiling. “I am. I’ve made a lot of women flush there. So, what did you do in the shower?” Before I could open my mouth the door swung open and June walked in. Her face went from happy to pissed in less than a second. “Oh, are you just leaving?” “No. I’m here for two weeks.” She eyed me and then Anthony. He nodded to her, confirming my statement. “Let’s go to bed, Tony. I know it’s early but there’s TV in there, too.” Her nasty glance was enough to make my anger rise fast and hot. “Plus, I’m not done with you. We were so rudely interrupted earlier.”

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He smiled at her and then at me. I think he was enjoying her ire. He rose, slowly and grabbed another beer from the fridge. His shoulder brushed mine as he passed an my mind supplied the image of my vibrator still in the car. He was hot. Hard and hot and he smelled like leather and soap. “Goodnight then,” he said softly as he passed. “Goodnight.” “We’ll be leaving you alone now,” June said haughtily. “That is, unless you want to watch again?” She didn’t say it but the word ‘bitch was implied. Then she slammed the door. I went out to the car to get my bags. Specifically the bags with the vibrator. The truth was, though she was being sarcastic, part of me had wanted to answer, “Yeah, I do.”

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Chapter 2

I woke up disoriented. I rolled over and caught the early morning light through the sand colored curtains. I could hear the distant roar of the ocean and smell salt in the air. At first I thought I was dreaming. Then I remembered I was at the beach house. I stretched, working out the kinks and breathed deeply. Somehow ocean air always seems so much cleaner than normal air. I rolled to my side as it slowly dawned on me that I didn’t have to get up and rush. Didn’t have to hurriedly jump in the shower or blow dry my hair or find clean underpants while racing the clock. I smiled. My thigh hit something hard and cool. I lifted the sheets to see what it was. My head still felt fuzzy from sleep. When I saw what it was, I groaned and the vivid images of the night before came flooding back. Even though I was alone, I felt a blush stain my cheeks. Dear god, had I become an instant pervert after witnessing two people fuck? Was I that twisted? The vibrator looked innocent enough. Much like a child’s toy, really. Smooth and not too big and a bright, vivid pink. I rolled away from it not so much because I was ashamed but because just looking at it made me want to handle it. Click it on. Hear it buzz. Use it. And then possibly use it again. I put my head under the pillow and sighed. Now that I was awake, I could smell it. The smell of sex. Sex with my self, sure, but sex nonetheless. It has a distinctive smell, sweet and rich at the same time. Intense. The smell of arousal and release. I laughed a little under the pillow and in my mind it all came back.

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I had heard them. The house was well built but June seemed to be anything but shy when it came to expressing her physical pleasure with words. Maybe she was doing it for my benefit. I have no idea. All I knew was as her sounds escalated, so did my vivid mental image of Anthony fucking her senseless the first time I saw them. “Oh, Anthony! Baby. Right there! Right there! Harder, honey, harder!” It seeped through the walls like magical smoke and I felt her words resonating in my body. My pussy grew wet and greedy. My mouth dried up and my throat felt tight. My nipples turned to stiff peaks under my pajamas and my stomach had fluttered as if I was nervous. When I focused on her voice, I could also hear the thump, thump, thump of the headboard. The distant squeak of abused bed springs. The harsh sounds of his labored breathing. When I really focused it was almost like being in the room. Again. By the time June had started to rely on nothing but meaningless sounds to express her pleasure, I was rummaging through my suitcase for the vibrator. It was quiet and for that I was grateful. For one, they wouldn’t hear it. For two, I could still hear them. I had shoved it into my willing body and worked it with a ferocity I could not remember. The nub on the top tickling my swollen clit, the hooked end pushing and probing my G-spot with mechanical precision. One orgasm ripped through me as I plucked my nipples to the point of near pain. Just as I came, June cried, “I’m coming!” and the orgasm doubled in intensity and length. I could imagine it. I could imagine that what was in my cunt was not a fifty dollar vibe but the hard, tan length of Anthony’s cock. I could imagine that I was not the one

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torturing my own sensitive nipples, but Anthony. Perfect white teeth grasping and nipping and yanking them roughly. I wasn’t done. I put the vibe on the highest setting. I needed the extra stimulation. I fucked myself harder, pressed it brazenly against my clit as I heard the headboard sounds grow louder and faster. The second orgasm would be with him. I wanted to come with him. A room away and no physical contact, but I wanted it. I wanted to come with Anthony. Bang, bang, bang, went the headboard. His breathing labored. I could hear it if I focused. I could imagine that breath streaming over my face as he labored over me, thrust into me. Fucked me long and thoroughly. On the other side of the wall, Anthony groaned deeply. Something primal in the sound. And I shuddered my way through another orgasm as I imagined him hovering over me. Taut and coming into me. Pumping me full of the fruits of his labor. I could nearly feel his hot come running along the insides of my thighs, making them sticky, as I rolled to my side to settle in for sleep. Under the pillow I sighed. I would get out of bed, make some coffee and take shower. I would not touch the vibrator. True to my word, I flipped the quilt up to cover my pink partner in crime and cracked the window to air the room out. Then I quietly went through the main room to the kitchen. The morning air was chilly and I considered going back for my robe. I forgot all about my robe when Anthony popped out of the master bedroom stark naked. ****

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“Blyth,” he said with a nod, walking past me as if he were wearing a three piece suit instead of nothing. “I didn’t know you were awake.” I think I squeaked. And I tried not to stare blatantly at his naked, swinging cock. It was a compulsion, though, the more I tried not to stare at it, the more forcefully my gaze was drawn to it. “You like what you see?” he snickered, turning from me and pouring two mugs of coffee. Oh, shit. Two mugs. June. “I um…I wasn’t expecting to see anything!” I snipped, trying to draw up some anger and failing miserably. “Sorry. Like I said, I didn’t know you were up.” He turned, impressive cock swinging gently with his motion. Though, flaccid, it was nothing to sneer at, that was for sure. “I’m up here,” he chuckled and handed me the second cup of coffee. I took it silently. A bit confused. A bit embarrassed. A lot turned on. Apparently, it had been way too long since I had been laid. “Sorry. I just haven’t seen one−” I bit back the words. Damn, damn, damn. Why did I insist on speaking aloud? “This big? This nice?” His green eyes twinkled with humor as he relaxed against the counter. Completely at home in his nakedness. “In a while,” I finished softly. “It’s been a while.” “So you and this guy. What happened with him?” He sipped his coffee. Black. Nothing added.

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I busied myself locating the sugar and milk. Doctoring my coffee. Anything not to stare at his dick. Though I wanted to. “We broke up,” I mumbled, putting the sugar away. “ I went to pick up my SUV. He had borrowed it to help a friend move. I thought he was out with the boys. When I opened the back to see if I had left a book back there, he was in there. With one of my friends. Sheila. He was fucking Sheila.” “I’m sorry. That’s a shitty way to have things end.” I nodded. Sipped my coffee and turned to say something. Something intelligent like, thank you. But my eyes went right back to his crotch as if tugged by an invisible string. Instead, I said, quite briskly, “Where is June?” “I sent her home. We’re not a couple. Just dating. A bit of fun while I scope out this job and find a place to live.” I was staring openly now. Under my gaze, his cock jumped. Twitched. Grew and lengthened. He was getting off on me looking. I was getting off on his getting off. I shook my head to clear it and cleared my throat. “Sorry. I guess naked men do me in all of the sudden.” I tried to cover with a casual laugh. It was more of a nervous trill. My breath froze when he said softly. “Blyth, would you like to watch me?” I nearly, stupidly asked, watch you what? I didn’t have to. As he said it, his large fist slid along the shaft of his growing cock. He stroked hard as the plump head went from a blushing pink to near purple. His eyes never left mine. I swallowed. Felt my eyes widen. My heart stutter. I was mesmerized by the sight of his big hand on his big cock as he stroked. Slowly. Giving me time to answer. To change my mind, maybe. “Yes,” I whispered, though I was mortified at my answer. “Yes, I would.”

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**** I watched him. Everything stood out. Like an up close shot in a movie. The dark hair along his knuckles. A pale scar on the top of his hand. The pores along his wrist. The pale band where he wore his watch. That spot that never got tan. All of it leapt at me even as I stared, unabashedly as Anthony fisted his cock. He did it without shame and in a way that said, I do this all the time. I know what I’m doing. I know what I like. And I don’t care that anyone knows. And I like it that you’re watching… I heard a little sound and realized it was me. A little moan. A sigh. I licked my lips and watched. Tan hand, long fingers, pale square fingernails. His cock rigid and dark. The tip seeping a shiny bit of pre-come. I wanted to run my thumb over it. Spread it around the tip. Get it ready. Put it in my mouth. Lick and suck until I couldn’t stand it any more. Then I wanted to sink down on his cock. Let my body eat it right up. Make it disappear. Just as I had seen it disappear into June’s swollen cunt. He did it for me. He ran his broad thumb across the pre-come, spreading it as his eyes rolled back for just a moment. Then the mushroom shaped tip was shiny all over as if it had just been licked. “Let me see you, then,” he growled. It was soft but forceful. And I jumped just a little I had been so entranced. “I…” What? Didn’t want to? Wanted to? Was embarrassed? I didn’t know. The words died on my lips. “Come on. You want to. You’re trembling. You’re flushed. And I know there’s no way in hell you’d let me fuck you…yet.”

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I swallowed hard and brushed my sweaty blond hair out of my face. He didn’t wait for an answer. He came forward, lifted me up by the hips and planted me on the counter. My ass connected with the Formica with a dull bump. He hiked my nightie up and crushed it around my hips. A pale blue, fabric tutu. With his big hands he forced my thighs wide and when I gasped, his eyes met mine and he smiled. “I won’t touch,” he said. But his eyes ate me alive. I felt them as if they were fingers, roving over the swollen flesh of my nether lips, peeking deliberately at the forceful, curious nub of my clit. He grabbed his cock firmly again with his fist and began to stroke. Letting his eyes touch me where his hands would not. He was close enough that I could feel heat radiating off of him like a stone that had been baking in the sun. Not close enough to touch, though. Or spook me. I gave in to what I wanted and licked my finger. I started circling my clit in time with his stroking. “Ah, that’s right. Just like that. Keep time with me. You’re so wet.” His voice was hoarse and his eyes were still hungry. They stayed glued to my cunt, only breaking to dart up to meet mine. His eyes were the same color as moss that grows in the shade. “I want you to come with me, Blyth. Can you do that?” Though I wondered where my sanity had suddenly gone. And I wondered why I was masturbating on a kitchen counter in front of a virtual stranger, I nodded. I nodded because I knew I could. And I wanted to. And I would. I was vaguely aware when my other hand joined the fray. I let my finger slide into my cunt. Wet and warm and twitching I was so close. I kept my eyes locked on his fist and his cock. The jut of his slender hips. The way his thighs flexed and relaxed the

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closer he got. His cock, now a deep purple shade, was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. I had never really paid attention to all the subtle changes. Now I did. The deepening color, the veins standing out. The contrast of his tan hand on the flesh of his dick. I watched him cup his balls and heard his breath rasp in and out of him like it was difficult for him to breathe. Without thinking, I added another finger to the first. I circled my clit with my fingers. Working it hard and fast the way I liked it. Tight circles with lots of pressure. I flexed my fingers deep in my pussy, seeking and finding the hard spongy G-spot, so swollen from watching him. I stroked it perfectly, timing my orgasm to the one Anthony was about to have. “Almost there, babe,” he growled and planted his free hand a bare inch from my thigh on the counter. His eyes mere slits, his jaw taut, he watched my hand. When his body bowed and he let out a long groan, I pushed firmly against my G-spot and let go. Let my body trip over that line. “Now, Blyth,” he said and his come shot out. Warm sprays of rich cream on my thighs. On the counter. I came with him, his semen so hot it felt like it would burn me. My cunt clutched around my fingers as I gave my own sounds of pleasure up to the silent kitchen. A few moments of silence and I lowered my nightgown. My face was hot, my heart thudding almost painfully. “Wow,” he said. His eyes now staring directly into mine. I nodded and laughed softly. “Yeah, wow.”

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Then he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. Almost a brotherly kiss. Not the kind of kiss one would expect from a man who had just watched you finger fuck yourself. Or a man who had just jacked off in front of you. I wanted to grab him and kiss him. It dawned on me that I had never seen a man do that before. Not to conclusion. Unless you count porn movies. There was something extremely trusting in the act. I wanted to say that but kept my mouth shut. “That’s about all you can handle right now,” he said and brushed my hair across my forehead. “But I’ll be back. And you won’t get away with just masturbation.” “Is that a threat?” I laughed as he started to walk to his bedroom. My pathetic attempt at a joke. “Nah. It’s a promise.” He grinned at me and started to shut the door. Then he paused, “And Blyth…” “Yes?” “You need a shower. You smell like sex, darling.”

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Chapter 3

Anthony left while I was in the shower. I heard his truck start up right outside the guest bathroom window. Off to check out that job, I wondered. Funny. I had just gotten off on the kitchen counter in front of the man. His come was still being washed off my thigh, and yet I had no idea what he did. What he was here to do. What kind of job he was considering. “As if you’d interview a one night stand,” I said aloud in the shower. I was rationalizing. It was true, though. If I went to a bar and decided to fuck a guy just because I wanted to be fucked, I would not question him about his career goals. I wouldn’t care. I rarely did the one night stand thing. I could recall two times I had given into my hormones and just slept with a guy to get laid. “Not a slut,” I said to the shower door. Again, I was rationalizing. I didn’t believe women should be labeled sluts because they gave into their libidos just like a man would. Maybe it was simply the fact that, when I looked at Anthony, I saw a man I instinctively liked. A man who I could envision being more than a quick screw. And that felt dangerous. Liking him. Being able to see myself going to dinner or laughing or joking with him. What was more dangerous was I had nothing to base this feeling on. Nothing but instinct and my own poor judgment. “Poor judgment is right, sister. Look how bad of a job you did judging Johnny. And stop talking to yourself!”

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I shaved my legs, rinsed and climbed out of the shower. I ran a comb through my hair and decided to let it air dry. Air dried my hair was the color of raw honey and wavy. I liked it natural. For the office, though, I put myself through the tortures of blow drying it. Not today. I fluffed it, swiped on a touch of mascara and dressed in a clay colored sun dress I had bought specifically for this vacation. I would go to the grocery store and get the makings for garlic shrimp. Anthony could join me if he wanted to. Or not. It was up to him. “An invitation not an obligation,” I said and then sighed. More talking. Oh well. The nearest grocery store was only two blocks away. I only needed a few things. I decided to walk. **** I could see the supermarket parking lot and was listening to the thwap-thwapthwap of my flip flops when he pulled up. “Where are you going?” Grin. I stammered. “To the grocery store. For dinner stuff. I thought you’d left.” “I did. See, I’m in my truck. I left the house and now I’m in the truck.” “Har, har,” I said, gazing up at him in the big black truck. He was good looking period. Clothed, naked, jacking off. He was just good looking. Masculine. Somehow, though, in the big black truck he looked even more manly. He looked downright lethal. “Want a ride? I need some razors, so I was heading that way.” I went around and climbed into the truck. I had to hoist myself up with my arms it was so high. I felt my dress lift up and knew he’d caught a flash of panties. Plain, boring,

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white cotton panties. When I yanked myself up the bodice gaped open. Tits. I flashed him my panties and then my naked tits. I gritted my teeth with frustration, until I remembered that I had just fingered myself to orgasm in front of the man. What did panties and boobs matter at this point. “How high are your tires?” I gasped, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. “Thirty five inches,” he laughed lowly. “Why?” “Because it was like a circus act trying to get into this thing. What? Are you trying to show the world you have a big penis?” I joked and instantly regretted it. “Blyth, you’ve seen my penis. Do you think I need a truck to make myself feel better?” This time the laughter lifted from his belly and his smile made his whole face crinkle with amusement. Bastard. So he had a big cock. A nice, big, lickable cock. So what?’ I gritted my teeth harder because I was frustrated. And embarrassed. Nervous, too. And if I was completely honest, I was turned on yet again. Apparently, I was morphing into a nymphomaniac. “I guess not,” I mumbled, grudgingly. “What are you making us for dinner?” he asked and patted my leg. Just for an instant. His hot hand touched my thigh and the sensation sizzled straight up my legs and under my boring panties. “Who said you were invited?” I asked but smiled. “I’m not?” “You can be. What’s the job you’re looking into?” I asked suddenly.

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His face clouded over almost instantly. “Working at the fish market. Running it actually. My dad ran a fish market once upon a time. He scheduled the fisherman, situated the hauls, priced, sold. All that.” I watched his face, confused by the shift from grinning and joking to dark and brooding. “That’s what you do? You’re from Maryland? I thought Craig said you were moving here.” “I am from here and I am moving here. I had moved away for years. Now I’m coming back. To run the fish market up on 3rd and Ocean.” “Where were you?” “Not here.” He turned into the parking lot and practically slammed the truck into park. “Where?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” He opened his door and I watched his long legs unfold from under the steering wheel. Then he was staring at me from the parking lot. “You coming?” “What did you do wherever you were?” I went on. Why was I pushing it? “Not fish,” he growled. Then his face softened and he came around to open my door. He settled his hands around my waist and helped me down. “Can we just shop now?” he asked, softly. “Sure. We can just shop now,” I said and followed him in. “I’ll just get the dinner stuff while you get your razors,” I said, trying to gauge his mood. He nodded, his face stern but not angry. He stalked off. A big, imposing man in a pair of khaki shorts and a plain white tee. I watched his legs. The way he moved. Fast

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with feline grace, but aggressive. I shook my head and went to the produce aisle. I threw prepackaged salad mix, tomatoes, carrots and finally, cucumbers into the cart. When I handled the cucumber I felt my insides stir. Long and tapered. Bright green and an impressive girth. Like a green cock. Waiting to be fucked. “Jesus,” I muttered under my breath. Now vegetables were turning me on. Maybe Anthony secreted some pheromone that made the women in a five mile radius turn to ravenous sex goddesses. “What about him?” he said right into my ear and let out a yelp. I clutched my heart and dropped the cucumber I had been lusting after. “Jumpy, aren’t’ you?” He retrieved the poor abused vegetable and put it back into my hand. His eyes lit up and he rested one big hand on my flank. Only one finger moved. Just one. He stroked that small patch of skin through my cotton dress. “I know what you were thinking,” he said in a somehow manly sing-song. “About a salad!” “Nope. About sex. What that would feel like. Or imagining it was me. It’s a toss up.” His grin was completely self-assured. “I would not stoop to produce,” I lied through my teeth. “And yet, you’re not ready for the real thing.” “Who says?” “I say,” he said and placed his arms around me without touching me. He straddled my arms with his arms. His back, nearly but not quite touching my back, and began to wheel the cart. “You have that wounded soldier thing about you. You have

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seen the worst and you’re not quite ready to get back into the swing of things. But you’re dying to.” “With you? You assume?” I snorted for effect but my stomach was fluttering to the point of nausea. “Yes. With me.” His lips were touching my ear now. Any fool could see my nipples poking against the thin fabric of my dress. I bit my tongue to keep from moaning. “You have it too,” I hissed because he had backed me into a corner. I was wounded and it pissed me off. “I have what?” The very tip of his tongue touched the rim of my ear. My pussy went liquid. My boring panties were soaked. My blood hummed under my skin. “The wounded soldier thing about you.” Then he was gone. His heat, his face, his tongue. Gone. He had retreated so fast it was like a vacuum. “What’s for dinner? If I’m invited,” he said gruffly, taking his arms from around me. “Garlic shrimp. Salad. Some kind of dessert,” I stammered, more than a little confused. He opened his wallet and handed me a twenty. “Here. Use this to help pay. I’ll meet you outside,” he said and walked off. I watched him go. “Okay,” I said to no one. Completely confused and more than a little angry for feeling confused I finished the shopping. I paid and wheeled the cart out, looking into the bright sunlight for the Tundra. I found it. Parked right near the main entrance. Anthony was in the front seat

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and some long-legged, beach bronzed, brunette was practically hanging from the door talking to him. Chatting. Laughing. Pushing her barely covered breasts against the door. His eyes found mine and he smiled. And then she slipped him a piece of paper and leaned in to kiss him. When she kissed him, he kissed her back. He even grasped the back of her head and pulled her in for a deeper kiss the way they do in the movies. Then she gave a titter and scampered off. Bikini covered ass shaking for effect. I tossed the grocery bags in the back and refused the helping hand he offered. I clambered, gracelessly but not caring into the truck. “Still invited to dinner?” he asked with a nasty smile. “Just you?” “Me and…” he glanced at the paper in his hand, “Janine.” “Nope. I’ll be dining alone tonight.” “Works for me,” he shrugged and fired the engine. I wanted to cry. I felt like crying. Instead I dug my fingernails into my thighs and breathed. I had absolutely no right to feel that way about him. Jealous of her. So I would not. I refused.

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Chapter 4

I would not get upset. I would not get upset. I said this over and over to myself as I chopped the garlic, melted the butter, peeled and de-veined the shrimp. I would sit down and have a nice salad, some garlic shrimp on top of linguine and a chilled glass of Chardonnay. That would be my evening ritual. Then maybe I’d put on a my favorite holey jeans and a sweater and take a walk on the beach. I could hear Anthony moving around in his room. A fish market? I wondered yet again. I could not see this man running a fish market. I didn’t know why. Plenty of men who were smart and sexy and self-assured ran fish market. At least I assumed they did. Somehow, though, Anthony spoke hero or athlete or something bigger. Bigger in an active kind of way. I shook my head. Maybe I should just let sleeping dogs lie and accept that I had pushed him. I had pried into his life when he wasn’t ready. I should just go and invite him to come eat with me. He has lashed out but I could be the bigger person. I could let it go. I moved toward his bedroom just as the doorbell rang. His door opened and he sauntered out in a pair of faded, low slung jeans and a battered blue polo shirt. His dark hair was combed but still messy. He gave me a tight smile and answered the door. “Hi there!” The high female voice sounded vaguely familiar. She didn’t even need to clear the threshold for me to realize it was Janine. The brunette bimbette from the grocery store. I turned to the stove, my back to them and stirred my garlic shrimp so hard a few flopped out of the skillet.

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“I’m so glad you called,” she gushed. “No problem. Glad you could make it on such short notice,” Anthony said softly. So I wouldn’t hear? I could tell even just having met him that there was no smile in his voice. “I brought wine and Chinese and a movie,” she sang out. On the word movie her voice went up two or more octaves, Mooo-veeee! As if she had discovered the cure for cancer. “Great. I’ll get some plates and stuff. My bedroom’s through there,” he said and pointed. “Can’t we eat out here?” she asked, frowning just a little. Her Kewpie doll lips pointed down instead of up and a frown line appeared between her big, brown Bambi eyes. “I told Blyth she could have the main room tonight,” he lied. “We’re roommates. So, we take turns.” I raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. Roommates? Turns? “We can’t eat out here?” she asked me, using her pout. I felt like telling her to save the act. Instead I just smiled and shook my head. “No. It’s my turn. And rules are rules,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Oh, okay, then.” She flounced through his bedroom door and shut it. “It’s the only place I want her anyway,” he hissed in my ear. He palmed my ass with his hand for a brief moment. Just long enough to steal my breath. Then he gathered plates, forks and glasses and went after her.

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Through the door. Into the looking glass. On the other side. Away from me. I would be able to hear him but not see him. Certainly not touch him. And it bothered me. It also bothered me that it bothered me at all. My shrimp tasted like overcooked erasers in burnt butter. My salad tasted like grass and my wine tasted like vinegar. Every time I hear Janine give her high, girlish laugh, I wanted to kick the door in and smack her. I grabbed the bottle of wine and rifled through my suitcase for one of the packs of smokes I had put in there. I wasn’t supposed to be smoking. I was, in fact, doing a stellar job of not smoking. At this particular point in time, I felt like smoking so I would. In fact, I felt like putting the whole damn pack in my mouth and firing it up with a blow torch. No noises from the room other than the normal hum of conversation, slight TV sounds and Janine’s annoying laughter. I slammed the front door when I left. Juvenile, sure, but it made me feel better. The temperature had dropped from high nineties to maybe mid-fifties. I listened to the ocean’s song and made my way down to the steps that would take me to the beach. At the top of the old wooden staircase, I stood and surveyed the beach. Not a single person that I could see. And the moon was lighting everything up nicely. I would have a nice solitary stroll on the beach and drink my wine and smoke myself into an iron lung. I could wallow in self-pity. Collapse into the sand. Drown on my face like the sad spinster I was when the tide came rushing in…no one to save me…no one who cared… “Enough!” I barked and heard a dog somewhere on the block give a warning howl. A warning to me possibly. He knew I was here and he was on guard.

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I filled my wine glass and sat the bottle to the side of the railing so no one would come along and trip on it, or worse, drink it. I lit a cigarette, savored that first heady rush and sighed out a puff of smoke as if I was in mid orgasm. I knew it was an awful habit but damn, sometimes there was nothing like smoking a cigarette. I picked my way down the staircase carefully so I wouldn’t end up breaking my neck. The sand was cool between my toes and I tensed and released them repeatedly, massaging my feet with the coarse grains. Then I walked. I smoked. I walked. I finished my wine and clambered up the step and filled it back up. Then I drank and smoked and walked until the bottle was done. Then I sat on the bottom step and gave myself permission to cry. For exactly sixty seconds. No use in going overboard. So, then I cried. And in my mind I counted; one…two…three… I wiped my eyes, gathered my things and headed back. Now I could go to bed and maybe dream a good dream. Or better yet, not dream at all. I opened the door and instantly my ears picked up the already familiar sound of Anthony humping the living hell out of some woman. “Man Whore!” I growled under my breath and then found it funny. I started laughing and couldn’t seem to stop. Possibly I had had just a touch too much wine. I semi stumbled toward his bedroom door. What was I doing? Why was I heading toward his room instead of mine? I shook my head. I had no idea. But my feet carried me there and I saw the door was cracked. Had he left it cracked? For me? Was it an accident? Intentional? Again, I didn’t know and shook my head. Just walk away and go to bed, the rational part of my brain said.

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I didn’t listen. I rarely listen to that rational voice. I leaned forward, put my eye to the crack and watched. My cunt flooded with liquid as I saw what was going on in there. He had Janine lashed to the headboard with her bra and panties. One arm bound with her black bra, the other arm bound with her pink panties. She was face down, a pillow tucked under her belly to force her perfect, tan ass in the air. And he was fucking her. Long brown locks wrapped around his hand as he pulled her head back far enough for me to see the twin blooms of color on her cheeks. The way her eyes were glazed and her lips swollen. She looked to me like a woman in so much pleasure she was unaware of her surroundings. She let out a groan as his other hand lashed out and a loud crack filled the quiet room. I saw his hand print blossom on her ass cheek like a magical flower growing out of nowhere. Then I noticed marks on the other ass cheek faded to varying degrees. My attention shifted to him and watching his ass flexing and pumping against her. He was mesmerizing to watch. I’d never been hung up on the male body, they pretty much seemed the same to me with different amounts of muscle tone and hair, but not Anthony. Anthony’s body amazed me. It turned me on. It made me want…it made me want him to do that to me. The room was dark so I couldn’t see with great detail. I wanted to. Badly. I wanted to be able to witness the length of his swollen cock jutting up and into Janine the cackler. She of the laugh that could set your teeth on edge. I didn’t like her, I was jealous of her, and yet it turned me on to no end to watch him fuck her. Yank her hair and smack her ass and pound into her.

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I wasn’t aware I was stroking my clit through my jeans until a little frisson of pleasure stuttered along my skin. I pushed harder, rubbing the thick crotch seam that ran between my legs against my swollen button. The harder I rubbed the harder the seam rubbed me. I’d thrown the jeans on without panties just as I had thrown the sweater on without a bra. I watched Anthony release her hair and grab onto the soft flare of her hips with both big hands. She had an olive complexion that had tanned to a nice golden color. His hands were so tan they looked nearly black against her unusual skin tone. Unlike June, Janine resorted to only sounds. Anthony was going to come. I knew his signs now. His jaw had set and instead of steadying her with his hands and fucking into her, he was yanking her back onto his cock even as he thrust forward. Her hair fell in her face, shielding her face from me but I could hear her loud and clear. “Unh..unh..unh!” She made that sound over and over but the harder he fucked, the higher the sound became. I rubbed the seam of my jeans viciously, knowing it would be soaked through when all was said and done. Janine was pushing back against him now. They performed a brutal dance of pleasure. Thrust, yank, push…over and over again. He threw his head back as if he would howl and he lost his rhythm. Frantic movements that were simply the blind thrust of cock into cunt. And just as she let out a feline screech he seemed to vibrate in place, the tendons in his neck standing out in relief.

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Warm spirals of pleasure spun through me as I came in time with them. Not listening this time. Watching. Watching him fuck another woman even when I knew deep down that I wanted him to fuck me more than anything. More than anything I had wanted in a very long time. She had fallen flat under him, laughing. Her breathing was ragged and her body was shiny with a sheen of sweat. Just as I started to back away from the door, Anthony looked over his shoulder. Right at me. He seemed to look into me and then he looked away. **** I hurriedly changed into my yoga pants and a tee. I tossed the wet crotched jeans in my dirty pile of clothes and I sat on the bed resisting the temptation of lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window. Craig would kill me if I smoked in the house. But I would kill him first for sending me here to live with the prince of sex for two weeks. The man had somehow turned me into a full-blown pervert. I heard her protesting. I could barely make out her words, but I caught a few. “Why can’t I stay the night?” Some petulance in that tone, I could tell. I couldn’t say I blamed her. Anthony’s deep voiced mumble was indecipherable. I wondered what excuse he was using. The every popular, “I have to get up really early in the morning.” A few more words exchanged and then loud and clear, “Jerk!” and the door slamming shut. I yelped when my bedroom door flew open and he was standing there. His face a serious mask of disapproval and what looked like anger.

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“Out here! Now!” “I…” “Now!” I felt anger rocket through me but right on its heels was an arousal I couldn’t explain. I could hear the phantom sound of her unh, unh, unhs…and the loud pistol crack of his hand connecting with her ass. God help me, I was getting hot just thinking about it. It distracted me to the point that I sat frozen on my bed and stared. He marched in, grabbed my wrist firmly and pulled me up. “I said out here. Let’s go.” For whatever reason, I let him lead me like a naughty child headed for punishment into the main room. Then he glared at me and said, “Pull down your pants and lean over the arm of the sofa.” “What?” “You heard me, Blyth. I didn’t whisper or stutter and you are most certainly not deaf.” His green eyes had darkened to a sea-green with flecks of storm gray. “I will not.” He studied me for a moment as if he could see something in me that I was not even aware of. His jaw clenched and he firmly but not roughly spun me so my back faced him. He yanked own my pant and I was so startled I didn’t make a sound. Then he pushed me forward until my breasts rested against the arm of the sofa. My ass was thrust high and exposed. Void of panties, my cunt was also open and on display.

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I opened and closed my mouth. So uncertain what to do I wanted to cry. All the while I could not believe I was uncertain at all. I should stand up, kick him in the nuts and called the police. Or something. He leaned close. One finger, just one, trailing from the small of my spine to the spot just above the dimple over my left ass cheek. I felt my body erupt with goose bumps and I bit my tongue to suppress a sigh of pleasure. “Tell me that you want to stand up and go to bed and I’ll let you. I’m not a monster. And I don’t force women to do anything. So tell me, Blyth. Tell me you don’t want to be all spread out before me like this and I’ll let you go. Tell me you don’t want to find out what I’m going to do to you.” I swallowed hard and didn‘t say a word.

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Chapter 5

“Tell me.” I shook my head. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I wanted to be like this before him and I would not analyze it either. I had overanalyzed everything since Johnny. This I would not pick apart and dissect, this I would just go with. “Why were you watching?” I could feel him moving around behind me. Feel the shift and the move in the air and the energy of the space that was behind me. “Why was the door open?” I countered. There was a hint of anger in my tone but not a lot. Stubborn to a fault. My mother has always said so. “I don’t know. Why do you think it was open?” Anthony asked and then I felt the warm, rough palm of his hand caress first one ass cheek, then the other. He dragged the touch out so that it seemed to last an eternity and yet, was over way too quickly when his hand retreated. I could feel the faint warm buzz of his skin having been on mine even as he moved around so he could see my face. “I thought maybe…” I trailed off and suddenly it sounded ridiculous. “You thought what?” His eyes said there was no backing down. That I would tell him the truth whether I was embarrassed, ashamed, or confused. I spit the words out as quickly as I could. “I thought you left it open for me. So that I would watch. So that I could see.” His eyebrow shot up and a slow smile creased his face. “You did? So, you assumed the cracked door was an invitation to peek?”

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“I thought maybe. Yes. Maybe it was.” “And if it wasn’t?” He reached under me as he talked. His tone measured. Soft like he didn’t want to spook me. As I tried to think of an answer his fingers brushed the lowest part of my belly, right above my hipbones. His touch was so soft I wasn’t sure it was there. But the tender muscles beneath his fingertips galloped and fluttered under the light graze of his finger. “I would have watched anyway,” I admitted and then started at my own answer. I hadn’t expected that. This was some kind of sexual form or torture to get me to admit things I didn’t even know. “So, you’re only interested in watching me?” With the question came his fingers. Probing over my nearly shaved mound. Pushing past the outer lips of my labia. Seeking and finding the still sensitive, now thumping trigger of my clit. I jumped under him but forced myself not to thrust against his hand. I would not do that. “I am. I was. Yes.” The words were a jumble as I held my breath, waiting. Waiting to see what he would do with those big, long fingers that I had found myself staring at since the moment I had met him. “You don’t want me to fuck you?” One. One finger slid into me and I made a sound deep in my throat. I’d never heard that sound come out of me before. It almost didn’t sound human. Silently I prayed he’d add a second finger. He didn’t. His finger moved in me, twisting, thrusting. Pushing against the most sensitive places in my body as my mouth

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went dry and my belly did a slow, long roll. He worked me with his finger, probing my Gspot as if he was on the best of terms with it. I started to pant. The sound hit my ears before I felt it. The first blow landed with a crack like splintering wood and then a bright star of pain burst in my body. I let out a yowl and bucked under the intense sensation searing through my skin. Even as the pain began to taper off and die, my cunt clutched around his finger and a ripple of smooth pleasure picked up where the pain had left off. “How many do you think you should get for spying?” he whispered in my ear. His body bent over mine as if to shield me. He nipped my earlobe before I could answer and the sting of his hard white teeth on the lobe brought tears to my eyes. Again, followed by a delicious flicker of unexpected pleasure. I shook my head. I couldn’t think. “Come on. You get to choose. How many blows do you get, Blyth?” He wiggled that finger in me and my knees went a little weak. Remembering the delicious aftermath to the pain I hurriedly said, “Ten. Ten for spying.” “Good. Count them off, then.” And then the second blow descended. I felt the air shift, heard a faint whistle and then his hand connected and fire burned through me. I threw my head back, hissing it out even as he worked his finger deeper. My body giving him plenty of lubrication to fuck his finger into me faster. “Two!” He smoothed his palm over the throbbing skin as he talked. The gentle touch in direct contrast with what felt like lava boiling under my skin. He was not taking it easy on me just because I was new to this. Of that I was certain.

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“The truth is, Janine had to use the bathroom before I fucked her. I don’t think she shut the door hard enough. The wood swells. Humid air, you know. If you don’t really shove it, it pops back open just a crack. So, it was not⎯” Crack! I sobbed it out into the large open room. “Three!” “⎯an invitation. It was not to lure you into spying. It’s not nice to spy, Blyth. You should know that.” Even as he scolded me he wormed a second finger in with the first and started to fuck me in earnest with those fingers. They plunged into me until his knuckles bumped the barrier of my pussy. I sobbed again but this time from the pleasure of retreating pain and what he was doing to me. I could feel my own juices sliding down the insides of my trembling thighs. I could never remember that happening. I could not remember ever being this wet. I braced my knees because I felt like I was going to fall. Pitch forward onto the sofa arm and just throw my ass high in the air like a female cat in heat. Baring herself to any passing male. Desperate to be gripped and filled. Rutting. I was so close to abandoning myself to nothing more than rutting. He ran his fingers over my other ass cheek. The right side throbbed and thumped with blood. It felt alive, that spot on my skin. It hurt and felt so good at the same time. I closed my eyes and relaxed into the gentle touch. Felt my breathing steady and then he hit me again. “Four!” I was sagging but I felt him arrange me again and get me stable. “Don’t lose it now. I’m impressed. You are doing very well,” he said, and as a reward, I assume, added a third finger to the two deep in my pussy. Together, his three

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fingers stroked my G-spot in a steady rhythm. Not too fast and not too slow. Like he was playing me from the inside out. I hummed to myself. Lost somewhere between pleasure and pain. “Five! Six! Seven!” Now in rapid succession the blows rained down and I felt like I was spinning. Somehow I had gotten myself with my belly poised over the arm of the sofa. He was squatting behind me now. His face level with my blazing bottom, his fingers pumping into me and nudging me higher and higher toward coming. Eight was so hard that I started to cry in earnest. Spots bloomed before my eyes and my stomach contracted with the force. And yet, I hung right there. I could feel my cunt like a fist around his working fingers. Tightening with every blow until I felt like I might scream if I didn’t come or faint. One or the other. “Shh, Blyth, shh. Just two more. Two more blows and then you get to come. See, I am punishing you and yet, still rewarding you for being a bad girl.” I nodded dumbly as if this all made sense. Everything had fallen away. All of it. My anger, my fear, my frustration. I was nothing more than a body now. One big nerve ending that had gotten to the point where she craved the pain because that brought the pleasure. Not only brought it, but somehow enhanced it. God help me, I pushed my ass back to him inviting him to land another blow. He took the invitation. Nine rocked me forward and his fingers thrust into me with a brutal force. My body clutched, my eyes swam with tears. “Say it,” he hissed and landed the final blow while curling his fingers expertly against the exact spot I needed him to stroke.

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“Ten!” I shrieked as his stroking continued. I came. Long and hard with his knuckles bruising the sensitive skin of my entrance. I came and I sobbed and when I buckled he caught me. **** My body was humming. I felt exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. Limp. Now his hands simply slid over my buttocks like warm air. Soft and soothing touches. I let out a contented sigh as the last few flickers of orgasm worked through me. Anthony had taken a seat on the sofa and draped me over his lap just like a child about to receive a spanking. At any other time this would have bothered me immensely. At the moment, I didn’t care. I wasn’t offended and it didn’t seem at all unnatural. He soothed my skin with gentle touches and I felt my nipples brush the coarse hair on his thighs. He hadn’t touched them once but they were tender as if he had spent hours plucking and pinching them. I rested my forehead on his knee and let my body fight to find its equilibrium. “Why didn’t you?” I murmured because I wanted to know. I moved my arm and felt his cock, hard and ready under his pajama pants. Plain navy blue pants that sat low on his hipbones. So simple and yet on him overwhelmingly sexy. “Why didn’t I what?” he asked softly and then surprised me by smoothing my hair the same way he had smoothed my skin. “Why didn’t you fuck me?” I asked softly. “I would have let you. I know it and you know it. I would have let you fuck me right then and there even though you had just fucked her.”

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He stared at me hard as I turned my head to see his face. He didn’t stop smoothing my hair, though. “Doesn’t that bother you?” “Yes and no,” I sighed. I shrugged and my face grew hot. I was blushing. For whatever reason, that admission was more embarrassing than having just counted off ten spankings for peeking at him having sex and masturbating to boot. “Explain.” He smiled just a little and that smile made something inside of me that had been hard and brittle for far too long loosen just a touch. “It bothers me because it’s not really like me. I think things through. It doesn’t bother me because when…” I took a deep breath and pushed the words out like a calming breath, “…it comes to you I stopped trying to understand my reactions. My reactions never make sense when it comes to you.” “Why is that?” His eyes had returned to their normal calm green. He shifted a little but kept me draped over his lap. His cock was hard, that much I knew. I wanted to touch it but didn’t. I didn’t trust myself. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. He nodded as if satisfied and returned his hands to soothing my less fiery ass cheeks. I would bruise that much I knew. Most likely red and blue and purple bruises that would slowly fade to greens and yellows. The thought of his hand prints on my skin for days excited me to no end. “So, why didn’t you?” I pushed. “Why didn’t you fuck me when you knew you could?” He met my gaze and began to move me off his lap. As he stood he looked down at me. I knelt on the floor looking up, doing my best to understand.

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“You’re not ready,” he said and touched my forehead. “You’re not ready, Blyth. But when you are. I will.”

Then he left the room. I watched him shut the door and heard the TV switch on. “When will I be ready?” I asked the empty room.

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Chapter 6

I am a strong woman who deserves good things… “I am a strong woman who deserves good things,” I repeated as I brushed my teeth. I decide what is best for me and look out for myself first. I can only flourish if I make myself top priority… “I decide what is best for me and look out for myself first. I can only flourish if I make myself top priority,” I dutifully recited. Toothpaste flew and speckled the mirror. Now my reflection was dotted with whitish blue spots. I do not need a man to make me complete… “I do not need a man to make me complete,” I sighed. And then for the tenth time in ten minutes, I turned my ass to the mirror and eyed the image of blue and purple handprints on my pale skin. “Unless he marks me and makes me his own,” I laughed nervously. I am an independent woman… “Blah, blah, blah,” I groaned and shut the tape off. Fuck it. The self actualization wasn’t my thing anyway and I was much more engrossed in the bruises on my ass than on the bizarre robotic voice of the speaker. I hiked up the bathroom window and lit a cigarette. I leaned my head out and did my best to blow the smoke outside. The wind caught it and hurled half of the tell tale smell back through the window.

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“I am a non-smoker,” I said in my best robotic voice and laughed. Three more puffs and I figured I’d get nailed, so I pulled my head in and ran that smoking butt under the faucet. Then I reconsidered. I had really wanted a few more drags. “Shit.” I lit a new one, pushed up the window and stuck my head back out. I inhaled deeply, feeling like a high school girl smoking in the bathroom. Movement caught my eye and I let out a shriek. Anthony grinned, his head five feet from mine. He leaned out his bathroom window as if it was our regular meeting spot. “You shouldn’t smoke,” he said, “it’ll stunt your growth. And Craig will kill you if you stink up the joint.” I rolled my eyes but since he couldn’t see, I ran my free hand over the still-warm flesh of my bottom and felt a telltale flickering in my pussy. Jesus. This man did weird things to me. “I am fully grown and he’ll never know if you don’t tell him.” “Maybe I will,” he said and winked. “Go on. You don’t scare me,” I said and puffed the cigarette doubly hard just to make my point. “Oh, but I think I do. I think I scare you a lot,” he said and his face was serious. I flinched, flicked the cigarette to the pavement below but didn’t answer. Maybe he did scare me. I still wasn’t sure. “I’m done with it.” “For good?” “No. That one. I’m done with that one. As for the rest, we’ll have to wait and see.” Honesty is the best policy. Well, mostly. “Meet me in the main room,” he said and his head disappeared.

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“Okay,” I said to no one. I shut the window and pulled on my jeans. For late June it was a bit chilly. The sky was overcast and threatened rain. No sun for the sun worshipers today. Just gray clouds, a cool breeze, and a sky that threatened a sudden drenching at any moment. I pulled on a tee and then a light blue hoodie. Up went the hair in a pony tail and a swipe of mascara went on the lashes. I put on some lip balm and called it a day. Under my faded, favorite jeans my skin pulsed with heat. I could only assume it was healing but I unbuttoned the fly and pulled them down one more time. Ran my hands over the ghost prints of his hands on my skin. Felt the heat radiate into my fingers. I looked at the most prominent marks. Fingers that stood out in perfect purple clarity. A palm in shades of blue so dark they were nearly black. I ran my own slender fingers over the remnants as if stroking a prized possession. “Marks,” I whispered. “He marked me.” And he had. My stomach quivered and my head felt light. It might not mean anything to him but it meant something to me. Those fingerprints. Those handprints. I wasn’t sure what it meant but I was smart enough to know it meant something. **** Anthony was in the main room. Feet propped on the table, jeans hanging on him in just the right way. He wore a short sleeved tee with the words ARE THESE MY PANTS? In big black script. His hair was too long as usual and his smile made me horny as usual. “Any plans today?” he sipped from a Roger Rabbit coffee mug and flipped the channels on the TV with the remote.

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I shook my head and filled my own mug, this one Betty Boop, with coffee. I added cream and sugar and looked in the cabinet for a granola bar. All I found were Pop Tarts so I ate one raw. “None. Not much of a beach day. I guess I could go wander around the mall on Ellwood. Or I could catch a movie. Read. Paint my toenails, shoot myself…” I tapered off. “A vacation makes you want to shoot yourself?” he asked and clicked the TV off. “Not normally. I guess I’m just feeling a tiny bit cut adrift,” I said and sipped. I’d put in too much sugar so I added some black coffee to take the saccharine edge off. “What do you have today? Yet, another beach bunny bimbo?” I laughed and instantly regretted it. “No.” His voice was like the air before a storm. Charged and possibly dangerous. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. It was supposed to be a joke,” I muttered. “I was actually going to walk the boardwalk. See some old stuff. Throw some darts. Knock down some milk bottles maybe. Ride the Ferris wheel or go see the wax museum. Just kill a day doing nothing. I was going to ask you…” “But?” “But, apparently, you might assume it will cut into my babe time,” he said. No smile. A face that almost looked sad. His green eyes were back to stormy and I felt a stab of regret at my off the cuff mark. “It might,” I said, attempting damage control, “but let’s do it anyway. I want a hot dog at that place that sells the slushies with the two dogs on the cup. What’s it called?”

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“Alaskan?” “Yep. That’s it. I want a foot long Polish with the works and a cherry slushy.” I grabbed my purse and shoved my feet into my black flip flops. “No fries?” He rose, hitched his jeans up and for just a moment he looked grateful. I took his hand. “Now what kind of moron would get a foot long without fries?” I asked and led him out the front door. **** “You sure don’t eat like most women I know,” Anthony laughed, taking the first bite of his foot long hot dog. “I try to watch what I eat,” I snorted, salting my greasy fries and sipping my cherry slushy. “But hey, you only live once. What’s so bad about chowing down now and again?” I bit into my hot dog and moaned. I’d gotten mine with the works, Anthony had gotten his naked. Nothing at all. Weird. His eyes grew dark for a moment as if he was considering what I had said, then he nodded his agreement and dove into the fries. Mine were plain with lots of salt. His were doctored with vinegar and salt. Classic boardwalk fries. The intense smell of vinegar filled my nostrils. Smelled like the beach. “So, why are you looking into running a fish market?” I asked boldly. I probably should let sleeping dogs lie but I really wanted to know. “Doesn’t seem like your calling.” He shifted, looked angry, took a big bite of his dog so he couldn’t speak.

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“Come on,” I whispered, leaning close so no one could hear. Not that they would care. “Throw a girl a bone. You spanked the hell out of me last night and your handprints are still on my skin. You can’t tell me something?” I was playing dirty and I didn’t care. It seemed to amuse him and his face broke into a smile. He hung his head, grinning, looking very much like a little boy for that moment in time. “You complaining?” “Not at all,” I admitted, shifting on the wooden picnic bench. When I moved the right way, pressure made the tender skin on my ass and flanks sing. The echoes of pain were enough to trigger pleasure deep inside of me. “I was a fireman,” he blurted and then filled his mouth with French fries. I raised an eyebrow and nodded. Sipped my frozen drink. “Now that makes sense to me,” I confessed. “I can see you being a fireman or a cop. Even a soldier. I cannot see you running a fish market.” “Well, I will. That will be my job from now on. Or until something else comes along that I’d like to try.” “Why?” He seemed to be opening up so the question felt innocent enough. Not so, his eyes turned to slits and he looked almost feral. “Because I fucked up and someone died and I don’t deserve to be trusted with people’s lives any more.” He said it as if her were reciting his vitals before a torturer. “Oh.” My bite of hot dog had somehow tripled in size in my throat. I felt like it had a sock wedged in my esophagus. I swallowed hard to force it down and said softly, “What happened?”

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He eyed me and tossed his hot dog on the tray with the rest of his food. Balled up his napkin and tossed it on top. He sipped his blue slushy and the words came out clipped and harsh. “There was a fire at my apartment building. They called in my crew to put it out. Some immigrants cooking on a hot plate. They had just moved in the week before. The hot plate caught the curtains on fire, it turned into a grease fire which spread like nobody’s business. They were right next door to us. My girlfriend…” This time there was no bite of hot dog but I felt my throat tighten as if I would suffocate. I could see how hard this was for him and wanted to tell him he could stop. Another part of me thought, deep down, it might be good for him to get it out. I stayed quiet. It would be Anthony’s decision. “..she’s the one who died. When we arrived on the scene, I swore I saw her. In the crowd. The people who were safe. I saw her…” his voice cracked and the took another sip. “It wasn’t her?” He shook his head. “No. It was a girl downstairs. On the first floor. Same height, same build, hair color. She was even wearing a shirt the same color as the one Michelle had on when I left for work. She--” “She died?” He nodded. “Yep,” he said roughly. “She died because I thought I saw her. I thought she was safe. We cleared that entire building except for her. I saved everyone but the woman I loved.” “She couldn’t⎯”

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“The fire had spread to the hall, she couldn’t open the door. The windows would stick in the winter. Plus they had the security grill on the outside. She was pretty much trapped. She died while I saved everyone else but her.” He looked me dead in the eye, his face all harsh lines and angles. Pain plainly visible for all to see. Then he rose, took his tray and dumped it in the trash. I followed suit, suddenly not hungry any more.

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Chapter 7

I figured he’d want to head home after that but he didn’t. “Let’s go, if we cut down here and then go up the next street and get back on the boardwalk we can miss that section with all the hawkers and the con men.” He took my hand roughly but it felt nice. I followed him down the alley way behind a bank of souvenir shops. “Look I’m sorry,” I said, letting him pull me firmly along. “It’s fine. Let’s drop it.” I stopped and he tried to pull me after him but I stood firm. “Can’t you let someone apologize?” I said. My God, he was possibly the most frustrating man I had never met. Impossible to anticipate or gauge. “Do you have to be so very strong? You can’t just say, it’s okay or go fuck yourself, or something?” Anthony’s jaw muscles bunched and he squeezed my hand hard enough that I gasped. Then he loosened his grip. “Can’t you just let it go? Do you have to pick the wound until it bleeds outright?” “I’m not picking anything!” I yelled, feeling like I wanted to punch him or run from him. I wasn’t sure which. “I am simply trying to say that I am SORRY.” He pushed me. Not to make me fall. But it happened so fast I was sure I would. He pushed me, walking me backwards until my shoulder blades slammed the sunwarmed brick wall of the alley. My head rapped it, too but not hard enough to hurt. My one arm was smashed against the hot metal dumpster that thankfully did not smell. “Wha—”

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He yanked my buttons and my jeans slid down with little provocation. Then his fingers that I had come to admire shoved into me though there was little moisture to help them along. I yelped but instinctively shoved against his forceful digits. “Shut up, shut up, shut up…” he was chanting it still even as he dropped his slushy and fell to his knees in front of me. His mouth clamped down over my pussy, cold tongue probing my clit. So cold at first. Like an ice cube set against my skin. I heard the distant rumble of thunder, wondered if anyone would find us, decided I didn’t care because all that mattered now was his tongue and mouth on my cunt and his fingers back inside of me. The rough bricks scratched that the tender areas of my skin marked by him but I arched up and against him even as it provoked pain. Maybe to provoke pain. “I’m sorry,” I said again thought my insides were heating up and turning liquid as he pushed his fingers deeper. “Shut up,” he mumbled and pressed his tongue flat, sweeping it along my slit until my knees started to sag. I slid a little down the wall, burrowed my hands in his dark hair. I pushed my pelvis forward, trying desperately to get more of me into his hot, wet mouth. Will it be this time, I wondered. Will he bend me over and fuck me in the alley where anyone could stumble over us? Watch us? The thought alone set off the first internal jumps and flickers of orgasm. “Is this how you deal with stress?” It was an attempt at a joke but alarm bells sounded inside of me. This was how he dealt with it.

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“Shut up, Blyth,” he said, pushing his tongue into my cunt right along with is fingers. I grabbed his hair tighter. Part of me wanting to hurt him. “It is!” I said with less intensity than I would have had he not had his face and fingers burrowing in me. “Shut up, Blyth,” he said again, looking up at me and starting to withdraw his finger. His face was smeared with my juices, his eyes were shiny. He looked sad and angry and a little dazed. He was beautiful. “Shut up, or I’ll stop and I’ll just go. Somewhere. Away from here. From you.” I bit my lip and shut my eyes. Let my head fall back against the wall. He read that as consent and went back to licking me. Grinding his lips and tongue against my swollen nether lips. Fucking me with his fingers again. Would it ever be more than his fingers, I wondered dumbly as the heat soared through me and my cunt pulsed around his fingers, his tongue, his lips. Would it ever be more than that? But then I was lost to the orgasm and I listened and watched through nearly shut eyes as he drank in everything I gave him and licked me clean. I still couldn’t breathe, but he dressed me. Pulled up my jeans, buttoned them as if I were helpless and I stood, limp, like a rag doll and let him do it. “Let’s go. We can ride the Ferris wheel,” he said, and took my hand. Led me forward. I didn’t balk, I went willingly. Content to follow and just do what he said. I guess I’d get the answers to my questions later. Or never. ****

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We rode the Ferris wheel and despite not loving heights, I felt okay. I sat near but not next to him in the round covered car we had to ourselves. I watched him watch the ocean, the boardwalk, the people. Everything but me. I could see a woman trying her damndest to knock the milk bottles over at the gaming section of the boardwalk. Didn’t she know they were weighted and you had to have the arm of a professional baseball player to knock them down? When she forked over another dollar to try again, I had to assume she did not know the game was rigged. “Why didn’t you this time?” I asked because the endless loop of the ocean scenery had grown boring. And I had grown pissed. Very pissed. “What?” he asked. He sounded both bored and guarded. I sighed, knowing it was a pointless conversation but soldiering on because I am stubborn that way. “You had me right there in the alley. You could have fucked me and again you didn’t.” His shoulders tensed but that was his only reaction. He didn’t look at me, instead he pointedly focused on the green blue water and the thin crowd. The boardwalk was pretty light today due to the overcast weather and the threat of rain. A good day to stay in your rented condo and watch movies or play cards and eat junk food. Or go to the strip malls and spend money. “So, Anthony, tell me what’s wrong with me?” I spat. Now I was really pissed. He could do June and Janine but not me? That made me laugh out loud and still he didn’t face me. “Wait! I think I figured it out. My name doesn’t begin with a J,” I snickered. “It’s Blyth and that’s a B. Wrong letter of the alphabet? You only fuck girls whose names

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start with J? I bet if we go down and walk around for a few minutes we can find you a Jenny or a Judy. Maybe even a Jill.” “You’re not ready,” he said quietly. His shoulders were tense but his voice was soft. I almost didn’t hear him over the wind and the ocean and the creaking of the ride. “I’m not ready?” I asked incredulously. “What, you are that special? Such a whorl wind in bed that you think I would break or crumble under your amazing skills? I am so fragile that you would break me? I could not possibly handle your sexual charisma?” Now I was laughing harder but anger was raging under my skin. Just who the fuck did he think he was? He turned to me and his face was pure anger. He was angry. At me. I felt a spark of fear and pushed it away. So what? He was pissed at me. Good for him. I didn’t owe him anything. “You want to suck my cock, Blyth? Let’s start there.” He yanked open his button and pulled down his zipper. Somehow that sound was as loud as a freight train even though I had had to focus on his voice just to hear it. “How bout that? Put that pretty blond head and that giant mouth in my lap and suck me off.” He yanked his cock into his hand and started stroking it. Hard. He stroked and I watched mesmerized, torn between slapping him and dropping to my knees and taking him into my mouth. I wanted to. Badly. I wanted to get on my knees before him and suck him until he came. Filled my throat and nearly choked me with his come. I wanted it so badly that I felt my tongue peek out from between my lips and quickly tucked it back in so he wouldn’t see. But to what end? Suck him off and then what? He had done everything but fuck me and I knew that this would be no different. What I really wanted from him he

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refused to give me. I had no idea why. All I knew was I was fine for every other form of use but the one I craved. Just like Johnny only worse. At least Johnny would fuck me. Sure, he fucked everyone else too it seemed but he still had been willing to fuck me. The ride wound down and the screech that followed announced that we were done with our turn. “Put it away,” I snapped, “because it wouldn’t matter if I did. I still wouldn’t be good enough for a roll in the hay.” The attendant barely had the door open when I jumped down and took of at a near run. “Blyth! Where are you going?” I heard him yell. I didn’t bother to answer. It wasn’t like he cared or anything. Maybe he could hunt me down wherever I ended up and spank me in front of the other tourists. Or finger fuck me. Or eat me out. It didn’t matter, because I knew that he most certainly would not fuck me. I was in no danger of getting laid. Not by him, that was for sure. I didn’t even really look where I was. The first noisy, crowded bar I saw I dove into the crowd as if they could save me. I hopped up on a deserted bar stool and when the bartender eyed me up, I snapped at him. “What’s the problem? I have money and I want a drink.” He nodded, no facial expression. His eyes roamed over me and finding me acceptable said, “What’ll it be, ma’am?” “Whatever’s Irish and on tap. And don’t call me ma’am,” I sighed. “Call me, Miss. Humor me.”

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I already felt old and undesirable. I didn’t need to be called ma’am on top of it all. I wasn’t even half way through my beer when Roy showed up. I knew his name was Roy because it was the first thing out of his mouth. “Hi, my name is Roy.” “Hi, Roy. My name is Blyth,” I said with zero enthusiasm. Roy wasn’t hard to look at either. Roy was tall and he had broad shoulders and forearms I would normally want to sink my teeth into. Roy came equipped with a flat stomach and slim hips and jeans that fit him just right. His hair was just a touch darker than mine and his eyes were in the same family of blue as mine. Where mine were dark blue with striations of green, his were blue green with flecks of denim. Roy could be my twin brother. Incest is best… When I laughed Roy laughed with me as if he could read my mind. “Did I say something funny or are you laughing at this face. Not the best I know, but it’s all I have to work with.” He winked. I eyed Roy with new consideration. “Nothing wrong with your face at all, Roy,” I said, sipping my beer. I saw the telltale bulge in his shirt pocket. “Now if you would light me a cigarette, I would consider you a gift from the heavens.” He blushed a little, which I found endearing and lit two cigarettes from the pack. He passed me one and puffed on his own. “Glad it’s not my face,” he confided and for just a moment he rested his big hand on my thigh. The heat seared through my jeans and I felt a pulse of excitement. Okay, so I wasn’t good enough for Anthony but Roy seemed to find me acceptable.

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“Not the face,” I said, studying him. “Let’s see. Nice firm jaw. Chiseled, even. A hint of dark stubble which, I have to tell you, no woman can resist. Nice full lips. Nice color, too. Blue eyes and a sharp nose. You have two eyebrows instead of one. Ears are proportionate to your head. No hair growing out of them.” Roy laughed and smoked. He watched me watching him. His smile was nice. It made me feel sexy. “No hair coming out of your nostrils, either. That is always a perk. Your hair is fashionable without being dorkie. No excess of product that I can see.” His hand was back on my thigh. Resting there. Not pushing or probing. Just resting there and giving off a wonderful, seductive heat. “And you have nice hands,” I sighed and set my hand on top of his. I saw his eyes study the hint of cleavage peeking from the V of my lightweight hoodie. I felt like I was blooming under his hungry gaze. Roy wanted me and Roy was not a twit. That was a heady feeling after the last few days. “I don’t normally act like a pushy ass,” he said. Not moving that hand. Just letting it sit on my thigh. Innocent and safe. “But would you like to get out of here? I know I do sound like a pushy ass, but I think you’re gorgeous and I don’t want to have to shout at you in a noisy bar and…” “And?” “And that sounds like the most sad ass line in the history of lines but I swear it’s true.”

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I wanted sex. I wanted attention. I wanted to feel like someone wanted me. Some of it might be sad but all of it was true. I wanted Anthony but he didn’t want me. And I liked Roy. Roy was likeable. I tossed a buck on the bar and stood. “Lead the way, Roy. You’re lack of ear hair has won me over.” He laughed and offered me his arm. I took it.

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Chapter 8

Roy had the good manners to actually talk to me. Ask about me. On the eight block walk back to his place, he asked a ton of questions. The most endearing was, “So, Blyth, that’s an unusual name. Where did it come from?” “My mother read a book. A hot steamy book, according to her. The main character’s name was Blyth. She had never heard the name and she liked the unusual. So, voila! There was my name.” “Name after a hot steamy novel character?” he laughed. “Very cool.” I shrugged. “I guess. Not so cool when I was younger and people would ask and she would tell them the truth,” I laughed. “No thirteen year old wants her mom telling that story.” “Still,” he said, draping his arm over my shoulder and pulling me close, “it could have been worse. She could have been telling people that she named you after a spinster character. A dried up old shrew who despised men and talked to rosebushes.” That made me laugh. A good honest laugh from my belly. “True. I guess the real story is better than the alternative. Although, there is still time.” “Time for what?” “Time for me to end up despising men and talking to rosebushes,” I said. I was joking but when my own words soaked in I felt a jolt of fear. Would that be me? Would I end up talking to plants. Or worse−cats? He hugged me close for second, though he was pretty much a stranger. “Lady, you are way too funny and way too pretty to end up conversing with rosebushes.”

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Right then I decided that I would fuck Roy until he begged for mercy. “Here we are,” he said. He turned and looked down at me. An honest look. “I meant what I said.” “What?” “I don’t normally ask a woman home five minutes after meeting her. I can walk you back if you’ve changed your mind. No questions. No issues.” I watched him turning it over in his head. He meant it. And that right there sealed the deal. I stood on my toes and kissed him. I grabbed his head with my hands and pulled him against my mouth more firmly. A girl could do worse than Roy, I thought as I forced my tongue between his lips and searched his soft warm mouth. He kissed me back and pulled me by my waist until I was flush to him. My curves crushing against his angles. His hipbones banged mine and I could feel the full length of his hard cock rubbing the crease of my sex. I ground against him and kissed him harder. “Let’s go in,” I said into his mouth and forced my crotch against his. Wanting what was there. Wanting him to fill me up and look at me like he wanted me. Even if it was for a few hours. I wanted to watch his eyes when he fucked me. I never did that. I never looked my lovers in the eyes. I wanted to see what he saw when he looked at me. I wanted to watch Roy’s eyes the entire time he fucked me. I promised myself I would not even close them when I came. Not for an instant. “Okay,” he mumbled because my tongue was still in his mouth. We stumbled, still kissing, toward the door and I heard the jangle of his keys as he located the.

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The kiss never ended. My hands in his hair, on his broad back. I slid them down to the small of his back and clutched him to me. I didn’t want to let him go even long enough for him to unlock the door. The keys hit the concrete stoop and we sagged against the wall in the tiny alcove. I could hear the boardwalk sounds and smell his soap. I yanked at his button, trying to work his jeans down. “Out here?” he asked but thrust his hips forward to give me better access. I don’t answer, I just shoved my hands into his jeans, past the cotton barrier of underpants and seized his cock with both hands. Big, hard, warm. My only requirements. I stroked him and he moaned in my mouth. The vibration shot from my tongue to my cunt as if on an invisible line. Then my hand was empty and I was being pin wheeled away from the man I wanted to watch fuck me. “What’s wrong with you?” Anthony hissed in my ear and planted me on a sandy patch of sea grass that bordered the small walkway. “Hey!” Roy was zipping and adjusting and striding toward us. His face alarmed, his mouth open, eyes wide. “Back the fuck off,” Anthony growled and took an aggressive step forward. “Who is this guy?” Roy asked, standing still but still obviously worried. “My roommate,” I said, and even I could hear the venom in my voice. “Your roommate? What’s your problem, man?” he started toward me and Anthony let out a low, warning sound.

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Roy froze and his eyes found mine. In the meager light of the streetlamp, he looked spooked and confused. “Should I call the cops, Blyth?” I shook my head. “No. He was just leaving,” I said, staring Anthony down. He grinned and that grin scared me. That grin had fangs and claws. That grin was full of anger. “Damn straight I am. I am leaving.” He grabbed my arm and his fingers bit into my skin so hard I knew I would bruise. “And you are coming with me.” Then he was hustling down the walk, dragging me with him. “Should I call the cops!?” Roy yelled again and I felt bad for him. Even as I stumbled to keep up with Anthony’s angry pace, I yelled back, “No! I’m sorry. He won’t hurt me!” But I wasn’t so sure. **** “Let me go. Let me go!” I was yanking my arm but Anthony held fast as he half dragged half propelled me down the walk, across the boardwalk and down the wooden steps to the beach. On the beach he spun me roughly so I faced him and shook me so hard my teeth clacked together. “What were you thinking? What the fuck did you think you were doing?” His face was distorted with anger and his face was a mere inch from mine, hot breath and spittle on my cheeks. I shrugged to try to dislodge his hands. “I have no idea what you are talking about. You need to calm down,” I yelled. The surf drowned out my anger, turning my shout to a whisper. “You scared the shit out of him. Out of me.”

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I yanked and pulled and squirmed but it was no use. His fingers bit into me and held fast. His eyes never left my face. “You’re lucky I didn’t beat the shit out of him instead of just scare it out of him.” “Why? What do you care?’ I demanded and instead of trying to pull away I inched forward. Put my face into his face. “He could have been anyone. A lunatic. A rapist. A murderer. He could have taken you home and…and…” “What? Made a girl suit out of me?” His eyes narrowed at my bad humor. “It puts the lotion in the basket…” I said in my best spooky voice. “He could have been Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, Hannibal Lechter?” He nodded and shook me again. I don’t know why. Possibly he was just so pissed he felt the need. “No shit, Anthony. It’s the risk us women take every time we’re flying solo and decide we might just like to get laid. You depend on your radar. The worst that good old Roy suffered from was low self esteem, which is a hoot. Did you see him?” I asked just to rub salt in the wound. “That is not a man who should be suffering from low self esteem. Especially knowing what kind of a hard-on he was packing. Definitely. Roy has nothing to feel inadequate about.” He didn’t answer, just propelled me once again like I was his marionette. I struggled and tried to dig my feet in but he pushed me ahead of him, my planted feet raising furrows in the sand. The sand that looked nearly black under the inky night sky. Even the lights from the boardwalk didn’t penetrate at this angle. Not this far down.

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“What are you doing!?” I screeched, feeling the first fire bolt of fear shoot under my skin and zig zag down my spine. “Why, what you’ve wanted me to all along, Blyth,” he grunted in my ear, still forcing me along. As we neared the boardwalk, the dark underside of that harmless walkway of planks and nails loomed threateningly closer. Jet black under the boardwalk. No one under there. Or if they were, not he people you wanted to be around. The people hiding from the light and the sound. He pushed me under and I stumbled. Fell. My elbow banged a piece of driftwood and I turned on my back to see where he was. I tried to scramble up on my elbows and heels. Tried to scuttle away like a crab but he caught me by the ankles and yanked me forward. I slid, my hair swooshing through the sand, my ass dragging and bumping over the divots created by the tide. “Come here, Blyth,” he sing-songed and his voice was cold. It made me feel cold. The anger was evident. His intent clear. It scared me to realize that I wanted him to take me like this. That the anger was just pushing all the feelings I has squashed higher and higher. But I fought. Because it was what I was supposed to do. And I didn’t want him to think he was winning. “Off! Off!” I yelled and kicked at him with my feet. My bare feet. Where had my sandals gone? I had no idea. Anthony caught my ankles in one big hand and pinned them. His other hand attacked my buttons. He yanked the top button of my fly and the others popped open like lemmings walking into the sea. He trapped my knees beneath his knees and

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yanked my jeans down so hard the denim burned my ass. The bruises left by his hands hummed to life like neon signs coming on. “No, no, no,” I was chanting. Even I could hear how weak and useless the nos were. But I said it anyway. “Lie, lie, lie,” he hissed into my ear and shoved his fingers into me. Anger shot through me. “Oh, the famous fingers again!” I yelled. “Blyth the queen of finger fucks. I’m starting to wonder if you have a penis. Maybe all you come equipped with are fingers,” I bellowed, not knowing what I was saying because all I had left close to me at that moment was anger. “Blyth,” he growled in my ear, pinning me fully down. That one word, my name was a warning. Full of threat and promise and what sounded like pain. Then he was forcing into me. His cock probing bluntly against my cunt. I was wet. So wet, I could feel myself creating more wetness even as he banged against me, blindly seeking entry. I pushed up and screamed out and let him in. One long, brutal thrust and he was fully seated in me. I tried to remember my pants being pulled way, or his for that matter. I had no memory of it. Just the harsh sound of my name and his cock forcing into me. Anthony’s breath hissed in my ear, heated my skin as he fucked. He pumped into me like he wanted to kill me or wanted to die. One or the other. Not lovemaking. Fucking. Animals. And pleasure soaked through me like a stain. I wrapped my legs around his pistoning hips, pulled him closer and deeper into me. Greedy to feel his hot length fill me all the way up.

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I clawed at his back, blood wetting my fingertips as I forced my hands under his soft tee shirt and stripped his skin like a monster. I pushed up, up, up to meet him. Sand in my eyes, my ears, my mouth. It rasped my skin and made the bruises and welts on my ass sting with searing pain. He thrust his hands under my hips, tilting them up, driving deeper and I felt my cunt tighten. A hungry little predator, devouring him. He licked at my throat, my chin, my cheeks, the tears that were staining my cheeks. He licked blindly at me as if he could absorb my essence. He was yanking me up even as he drove into me. Yanking me brutally hard and I clasped him harder with my thighs, hanging on and urging him to go further, though there was no further to go. He went tight in my arms as my orgasm unwound. Unfolded and rolled through me. My body went limp outside and taut inside. Each spasm made me sob. I was sobbing and he came into me with his own version of a sob. A roar that beat the ocean and the devil. So much let loose in the sound that he made when his body lost the battle and surrendered to pleasure.

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Chapter 9

He held my head as I caught my breath. Held my head and crushed me in into the sand with is big body. I felt half buried and fully alive. My body ached. My scratched back, my bruised bottom, my cunt ached the sweetest ache. The kind that only comes from something rough but good. I clenched my thighs around him and felt the sweat on his flanks. His heart beat triple time against mine from the exertion. He rested his head against my breast as if eavesdropping on my own heart beat. “I’m sorry,” I said and I wasn’t sure why. Sorry that I had scared him? Sorry that I had taunted him? I didn’t know. In my mind I could hear his words from earlier. “I thought I saw her…I thought I saw her…” He had thought he’d seen her in the crowd and because of it she had died. What must that do to a person? “Hmmm?” It tickled my ear, that sound. He sounded nearly content and instinct told me not to repeat myself. I do not listen to instinct nearly enough. His cock had deflated in me. I could feel it down there, half in and half out of my body. Wet from me and from him. Harmless and flaccid now but somehow a welcome imposition of his maleness against my femininity. “I said, I’m sorry,” I whispered. I smoothed my hands over his head as he continued to cradle mine in his much larger ones. He went rigid and I consciously let the moment go. It would end right now. His body language told me so.

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As I had predicted, the moment was now gone. He pulled from me and stood. Brushing sand from himself even though it sprinkled down on me, a grainy assault. He yanked on his jeans. He looked like nothing but a shadow in this darkness. A wraith. I surrendered. Got up, found my jeans and shook them out. I brushed my body off angrily not caring if the sand coated him again or went in his eyes or even up his nose. Good. He should eat some sand. Who needs to fuck a man you couldn’t even talk to? Even a one night stand would suffer some small talk if it meant getting laid. I shoved my feet in and buttoned the fly. I yanked my sweater down over the waistband and leaned forward, shaking my head like a dog just out of the water. Sand rained down noisily as I continued to shake. “Where are my shoes?” I demanded, hands on hips. I stood there acting aloof and defiant. Inside of me, all I really wanted to do was start to cry or scream or lash out at him. Hit him and beat him and maybe give him some idea of how he made me feel more often than not. The punch line was, he didn’t owe me a goddamn thing. And I didn’t owe him. And it was high time I realized that. Feelings were pointless. I was feeling something for him I shouldn’t be. That I had no right to feel. Basically, the whole thing was my fault because I had had the audacity to feel. A man who fucked Junes and Janines and occasionally threw a Blyth into the mix, was not interested in my feelings. He pointed and remained silent. He brushed off his shirt and ran his hands through his hair. His mouth a tight seam. His eyes seemed to glow in the near dark. I marched over, located one sandal and pulled it on. Then I stumbled around looking for the other. When he handed it to me, I snatched it from him and shoved my

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foot in. “Right. Well! Not dead. Not cut up. Thoroughly fucked. You have proven that you have a functioning dick and I am on my way home,” I bellowed and stumbled out from under the board walk like a refugee coming ashore. My throat was tight. My vision blurred from tears. I wasn’t sad. No, I was angry. At myself. For seeing something in that person. And wanting to see more. Feel more. I guess I never learned. His name was Anthony, but deep down he was Johnny. Deep down they were all Johnny. **** I stopped at the convenience store and bought a bottle of rot-gut wine and two packs of cigarettes. A biker buying a chili dog eyed me up and smiled. His smile wasn’t too scary for a guy with the words: I KILLED MY MOMMA tattooed on his left bicep. I lit the first cigarette before the door shut behind me. I walked, the bag under my arm, the smokes in my back pocket. Puffing and seething while my body still let loose random flickers of remaining orgasm. I ignored my body. My body was a machine, it was only remembering the good, my brain remembered the bad. You’re not ready… He could have been… Shut up, Blyth… More tears, more smoking. Only eight more blocks to go. I looked up and watched what was around me. Couples everywhere. Young and old. Mostly young this time of night. Hand in hand, arms draped around each other as if it was imperative that

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the world knew they belonged to each other. Kissing. Women huffing fifty foot tigers and elephants and pussy cats because the man they were with had spent eight dollars winning them a four dollar toy. I flicked my butt into the street where it shot sparks like a falling star. I lit another one and continued to puff like an angry dragon all the way home. He was slouching in the doorway like a felon when I got there. “Move,” I said. I meant it to come out low and commanding. It was more of a shriek. He didn’t budge. “I would like to go into the house,” I said as if he were possibly mentally challenged. I clipped out each word with measured precision. He stepped aside, opened the door and bowed with a flourish of his arm. As I passed, I noticed that there were dots of blood seeping through his cotton polo. I had really done a number on his back. I hoped it hurt. I swept past him, head held hide, spine stiff. I slammed the bag with the wine down on the table and pulled down a glass. I lit another cigarette and found a saucer to use as an ashtray. “Craig wouldn’t want you smoking in here,” Anthony reminded me. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the top and took a swig. “Craig can suck my ass if he has a problem with me smoking in here,” I informed him. “It is Craig’s fault that I am in this position. The way I see it, Craig owes me some cigarettes in the comfort of his own home.” I sipped my wine and when I shook my head at him, I heard sand hit the linoleum. “In fact, I think he owes me twenty or thirty

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thousand cigarettes in the comfort of his home. It is, after all, his fault that I am stuck here with you. He thought it would be fine to double book this place and not tell me and stick me with you!” Puff, puff, puff. “You need a shower.” Talking to Anthony was like trying to recite the alphabet backwards while drunk. Not an easy task. I stared at him and gathered my glass and my makeshift ashtray. “Right! I will go take a shower. I wouldn’t want to offend you!” I shouted and slammed the bedroom door. I finished my smoke and shucked my clothes and climbed into the shower. It was worse in the shower. In the shower I could feel him all over again. On top of me. Overpowering me. Filling me. I could feel him fucking me. I could feel his heartbeat. I could hear him breathing. I tried to wash it away, but I couldn’t. He was still with me when I climbed out all scrubbed and clean. He was still with me because I finally realized the truth about it, he was under my skin. **** I waited until two a.m. I figured by then it would be safe. I had heard him moving around out there like he was pacing. I had stayed locked in my room. Intent that I would not give him the satisfaction of another exchange. I was done. I had nothing else to say. Maybe tomorrow we could find him a Judy and he could fuck her and go back to the way he was before I came along.

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I had everything I needed in my room. It hadn’t been hard to lay low. I had the wine, the ashtray, the cigarettes and a tiny black and white TV. I had books and a window that faced the ocean. I did not need him. Finally, hunger got the better of me and I cracked the door and listened. I didn’t hear anything. I peeked down the hallway. His door was shut. No light in the main room. The TV was a dead black box. I crept out as quietly as possible and headed toward the fridge. The remnants of my half eaten hot dog, fries and slushy had worn off hours ago. Even the miniature candy bar I had found in my purse hadn’t done much to quell my hunger. I had my hand on the fridge door when I heard him. “All clear!” he barked in the dark and I froze. “Only two inside. It looks like everyone is out. Sanders you go in and Fitz, call in to dispatch and update them!” I searched the dark with my eyes and found his dark form sprawled on the sofa. One leg flung over the back cushions, one on the floor. His hands were crossed on his belly like a corpse laid out in a coffin. I listened, not daring to open the refrigerator door and let the light out. The clear orders he was issuing to men who were not present faded to mutters and mumbles and he tossed. Started to thrash. The hair on my neck prickled because I knew what was coming. “Michelle…No!” and sounds of anguish. My heart shattered right then and there. I had never heard a person sound that way before. Food forgotten, I made my way through the darkness and touched him. He jumped under my hand like I had burned him. I dropped to my knees, smoothing his

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hair. Let my hands say what I didn’t have the words to say. I soothed him with my hand and fingers. Tried to calm him with my touch. Still half asleep he grabbed my hand like it could save him. He reared up and with his eyes still closed, hissed, “Michelle, I am so sorry. So sorry, baby. I failed.” He thrashed again, still in the grip of his dreams and sleep. Still in the sticky claws of darkness. The tears came then. For me and my anger. For him and his pain. For a woman I had never met and never would. I rested my head against his chest and rubbed his arms, his thighs, whatever I could reach. “You didn’t fail,” I said loud enough that I hoped he could hear. “You didn’t fail.” “I failed,” he answered with the thick voice of sleep. “No. It was an accident, you didn’t fail.” He clutched at me and I felt his heart pounding my ear through his chest. Like a tribal drum signaling doom. “I failed,” he moaned and his voice caught on a sob. I ran my hands over his face and they came away wet. My heart broke again. Tinier pieces this time. I did the only thing I could think to do. He wasn’t coming out of this for my words. He wasn’t coming out of it for my touch. I wrestled his jeans open. He was still sandy. He still smelled of the surf and sex. Of me. I freed his cock and it went from soft to semi hard in my hand in an instant. It wasn’t until I was holding it, that I realized how badly I had wanted to get my mouth on him. Have him sliding over my tongue and down the my throat. How much I wanted to

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smell him with my face pressed to the hottest part of him. His cock was fevered and I slid my equally hot mouth over him and felt a resounding pulse begin in my cunt. He moaned again. A different kind of moan this time. Still tinted with pain and the dream he was trapped in, but there was pleasure in it, too. His hands batted against me, nested in my hair and pulled a little. Tears sprang to my eyes at the sharp bite of pain on my scalp but I licked anyway. Licked around the head, let my tongue trail the already seeping slit. I lapped up his pre-come and shoved my hands into his jeans to cup his balls. I inhaled deeply, letting him slide down my throat and brush that spot in the back that somehow always tickles. His hands pulled my hair again, more gently this time. His hips thrust up to meet my mouth. Fuck the hot haven I offered. I made my tongue rigid and ran it down the back of his shaft. Tonguing the main vein and flicking it just so. I did everything I could think of and then some, working him with my mouth and then adding my fist. My palm and fingers wet with my own saliva. I did it all until my body had boiled down to the point of the taste of him on my tongue and the feel of him brushing my lips. “God,” he said and there were no hints of a dream in his voice. He was awake. He was with me now. Michelle…No! I heard it in my head and I pushed it out my sucking him harder and faster. “Oh, God, Blyth,” he said and filled my throat. I didn’t jerk away as I normally would. I swallowed. Wave after wave of hot come. I swallowed it all, keeping him deep in my throat, his hands in my hair.

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When he went limp under me and just the smallest saddest sound escaped him. I licked him clean. Rested my head on his hip. Felt myself drifting. At some point I fell asleep.

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Chapter 10

I woke up in my bed. I blinked, confused for a moment how I had gotten there. I clearly remembered dozing off with my head on his hip. His warm skin pressed against my temple, his hands smoothing my hair. I vaguely remembered him talking to me in a soothing voice. I seemed to remember him trying to explain things to me but I was too tired to focus. I wanted to believe what I was remembering was true. Explanations, apologies, a soft manner with me where so often he was harsh. I shrugged. I could always ask him. I climbed from bed, found my robe because the air had yet to warm from the sun and the humidity had yet to creep in. I pulled my hair up in a clip and brushed my teeth. Just in case my memory of a kinder, gentler Anthony was accurate, I might actually want to kiss him. Kiss him? While I brushed my teeth I searched my memory. I did recall very vaguely being carried to bed and put under the quilt. I remember my hair being brushed from my face. And I remembered being kissed. Softly. Reverently. On the lips. A little shiver worked through me and I smiled at my reflection, looking like a dog foaming at the mouth. That made me laugh. I rinsed, used mouthwashes and crept out into the main room in case he was still asleep. Not a sound. His bedroom door was shut so I rested my head against it to see if I could hear him moving around. Nothing. I also did not hear the sounds of womanly pleasure that would have signaled my immediate exit. I cracked the door and peeked in.

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On an empty bed. Perfectly made. Like a hotel bed. Hmm. Maybe he had run out. I’d make coffee and wait for him to come back. Maybe now we could actually talk like civilized human beings. What with the sweet murmuring and apologies that I seemed to recall. I found it on the counter. A plain white piece of paper. Hurriedly scrawled block letters. GONE FISHING. That was it. No smiley face. No signature. Certainly no “love” or “yours truly” or even “Sincerely”. “Fuck.” Then I felt stupid. What had I been expecting anyway? This was Anthony we were talking about. I made the coffee and tried to swallow around the lump that had formed in my throat. I felt hurt and that made me mad. Was I so naïve that I thought a blow job and a few kind words in the darkness after a nightmare would change one single thing. “Hold on, Blyth,” I said aloud. “You’re jumping the gun. You need to be patient. He could come back with breakfast and be all smiles. You are prejudging the situation.” I would do that. I would be patient and not read into his absence. Maybe the gone fishing was a joke. He could be out buying bagels. Or possibly, he was fishing on a pre-scheduled trip that he hadn’t told me about and didn’t want to wake me to tell me. It could be anything. I just needed to go on about my day and see what happened. Even as I sipped my coffee and rationalized the hell out of the situation, I did not have a good feeling in the pit of my stomach. What it felt like I had in there was a led ball the size of a grapefruit. ****

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I tried to lay on the beach and read a book. I really did. The book that I had been engrossed in before leaving for the beach was suddenly dull and boring. The sun was too bright, the sand too hot, the seagulls too loud and the beach, itself, was way too crowded. When the third football hit and sprayed sand about an inch from my head, I had had it. I gathered my things and shoved them into my beach bag. Football number four crashed to earth and I resisted the urge to scream. “Sorry, lady,” the kid said. By kid I mean twenty. At twenty-nine, lady raised my hackles. “It’s fine,” I mumbled. I managed not to growl at him. “Wanna play with us?” he asked. His eyes did the classic alpha male scan. From my blond hair all the way down my body to my pink painted toe nails. My generic black bikini suddenly felt like dental floss and band aids. Somehow, I managed to smile. It really was flattering. Right? “No thanks. I have to head back,” I said and continued to shove things into the bag. When I came it was all neat and now it looked like a cherry bomb had exploded. I just wanted to leave. “To your boyfriend?” he asked, and god love him he looked a little let down. “No! No boyfriend!” I chirped but my stomach knotted with a vicious twist. I felt sick. I recalled every debaucherous thing that I had done with Anthony and yet…no boyfriend. Not that I believed you had to be involved with someone to have sex. Just… I pushed the thought away.

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“So, stay. Play some ball. We have a cooler full of beer and there’s food. It’ll be fun. Have fun with me, lady.” He winked. I smiled. Wanting to kiss him just for boosting my spirits but I was in no mood to play ball and act young. I needed an afghan and a cat to stroke, possibly blood pressure medication. Or a good stiff drink. I wasn’t sure yet. “Thanks, really. Thanks for asking. I have to head back, though. I have an appointment.” “Okay, then,” he said with a shrug. Big broad shoulders that were shiny with sunscreen. He probably smelled like coconut up close. Probably tasted like it, too. He probably fucked like a stallion and cuddled afterward. I was insane for turning him down. I did, though. I flounced across the beach and zig zagged in between the blankets and towels that were practically stacked on top of each other. Back at the condo, I took a deep breath. I felt like I was ten pounds lighter, twenty pounds cooler and half sane at the very least. “I have an appointment,” I said to no one and stepped inside. I glanced at the clock and checked it again. One thirty. I had woken up at ten. Only three and a half hours had passed. No sign of Anthony. “Appointment!” I sang out to no one and went to the hall closet. There was my appointment. A big beast of a vacuum, circa 1900. I grabbed the decrepit machine, plugged it in and began my important meeting. Me and the vacuum were going to eradicate every grain of sand that had been tracked into Craig’s condo.

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When I was fairly certain it was all gone, I checked again. Two minutes after two. Whoopdeewoo. I cranked up the local station and belted out Marvin Gay as I dusted. I dusted from ceiling to floor. Twice. Twenty after two. Great. Laundry. White load, color load, dark load. Fold, fluff, put away.

Ten of three. Nothing. No word. No man. How much fishing could you do? As if I believed he was fucking fishing. He was running. He knew it. I knew it. The vacuum knew it. I assembled a half assed sandwich and poured a glass of zinfandel. I had taken my first bite followed by my first sip when I heard the door handle. I would be calm. I would not get all giddy. I would not get pissed. I would not… Scream. “Where’s Anthony?” June demanded, her scrawny hand on her scrawny hip. “Not here,” I growled and took another bite of my ham with lettuce and mayo. “Well, where did he go?” she whined. I really looked her over. Bottle blond hair, eyes so electric blue they could not possibly be anything other than contact lenses. Breast implants that resembled large grapefruits being smuggled under her skin. This was what I had been worried about? I shrugged and sipped some more wine. “I’m not his secretary,” I told her in my best bored voice. She came further into the house, spotted the note and snatched it up. “Well, right here it says he’s gone fishing.”

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“How do you know he wrote the note?” Now I was just playing with her to kill time. “Who else lives here?” “Me,” I sipped and I looked around the counter for my cigarettes. I had been doing so well but right now I just did not care. “Have you gone fishing?” she hissed. Her electric blue, otherworldly eyes flashed with anger and a vein had popped out on her forehead. I’d really have to discuss his choice in females with Anthony. I looked around, feigning confusion. I looked at my sandwich, picked it up, examined it and took a big bite. “It does not appear that I have gone fishing.” “Look, bitch--” I dropped the ham on white and marched forward. “What did you say? What did you call me?” “A bitch because you are being a bitch. All I want is to know where Anthony is so that I can get my pink blouse!” she shrieked and spittle flew. She was really pissed. A little part of me felt bad. I was taking my anger at him out on her. But only a little part. “You shouldn’t wear pink,” I snorted,” your complexion is too ruddy, you’ll look like a shrimp. Shellfish!” And then I was laughing. Jesus. Had I gone insane? This wasn’t like me. I didn’t have time to ponder my insanity because she was flying at me, teeth bared. Her white tee shirt and shorts flashing in the sunny main room. Like an avalanche descending upon me. An avalanche with neon blue eyes.

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I grabbed a handful of her hair. Self preservation kicks in pretty fast. I yanked and her head snapped back. She let out a sound that reminded me of metal being dragged over metal. My ears ached it was so high. Her hands flew at my face. Her finger went up my nose. I pushed at her hands and let out an ungodly noise of my own. Tears sprang to my eyes when she latched onto my hair and yanked so hard I swore she tore out a chunk of scalp. “Biiiiiiiiiitch,” she shrieked. “Assssssssssshoooooooooole!” I screamed back and hooked my ankle in hers and kicked out. She started to go down, taking my hair down with her. I dropped with her to save myself from being scalped and then I was on top of her. I pinned her bony arms to the ground and straddled her stomach, squeezing her with my thighs as hard as I could. I heard the air whoosh out of her and I squeezed harder. Somehow, somehow that bitch got her hands free. It might have been when I was gloating over hearing her lungs empty due to my super strong legs. She grabbed my nipples and twisted. Not in a good way. Fire shot through my breasts and I screamed something that I didn’t even recognize. I grabbed my boobs, protecting them and lost my balance. She flipped me and then she was the one straddling me and smacking at my face over and over. “I just want my shirt my shirt my shirt. That is all I came her for was my goddamn pink shirt you crazy person. My mother gave me that shirt and I love it and I do not care if I look like a shrimp or any other kind of shellfish! Give me my shirt!”

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It registered in my mind, somehow, that we had both possibly overreacted in this situation. But it was too late because the blows were raining down and her hand caught me just right in the eye socket and I saw stars. When I saw them, I lost it. I brought my legs off, throwing her off balance and pitching her forward over my head. I then proceeded to wiggle out from under her. A tight squeeze worming under her crotch like that but I managed. I struggled to my hand and knees and crawled toward her. My eye socket throbbed, my face was a mask of pain and my hair was tangled in my eyes. I had only one goal. June. I raised my hand. Overreacting or not, I was going to give Miss Fake Chest what for. I swung forward with all my might. If it hadn’t been for that damn fist that caught mine in mid air, I would have knocked her into the next century.

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Chapter 11

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, darling.” I heard the voice and turned. I had finally started to hallucinate. That was the only logical explanation. But no. No hallucination here. Just Johnny. Johnny the pale assed SUV fucker. He was clutching my fist and keeping me from the woman who had just possibly given me my first shiner ever. June scrambled across the floor on her ass. Scuttling along toward Anthony’s bedroom. She turned and sprinted, slamming his door behind her. “Let go of me,” I ground out. Each word like a bomb going off. I stared pointedly at his fist clutching mine and then stared him down until he unbent his long, lying fingers and let me go. Just calm down. It’s not like you to be beating the tar out of someone. You didn’t even resort to violence when−” He caught himself and went silent. Not so stupid after all. When I caught you fucking one of my very good friends? In my vehicle? Is that what you were going to say?” He nodded and had the good sense to look at his shoes as if he were ashamed. I heard the sliding door to the beach bang in Anthony’s room. Instead of facing me again, June had taken the easy route and escaped through the slider. Smart girl. I turned my attention and my wrath on Anthony. “So, what the fuck are you doing here? Just pop in for a beer and a how do you do?”

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I went to the fridge and found a bag of frozen vegetables. I put them to my throbbing eye socket and waited. This would be good. I could not wait to hear why he was here. “I came to see you.” His brown eyes were full of remorse. His face the classic hound dog façade. I wasn’t buying it. “Get lost, Johnny,” I held the veggies tight to my face and downed the rest of my wine. Then I refilled the glass and took another swig. Screw it. I considered it pain management. “I wanted to apologize,” he sighed, shuffling forward. He looked like the biggest five year old on earth. “No need. God speed. I wish you well. Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out,” I said and lit a cigarette. I would buy a cat. I would buy a cat and a house and collect newspapers and rubber bands. I did not need a man. Men were nothing more than a giant pain in the ass. Unpredictable, lying, cheating slugs. I thought I saw her… I puffed and pushed the phantom voice away. “Blyth. We can work this out. Five years is nothing to sneeze at.” “I sneeze at it,” I informed him. “I sneeze at it because if it was nothing to be taken lightly, I wouldn’t have found you two like that. It’s fine. I don’t care any more. I’m over you and I’m over her and I’m over the whole ugly mess. I hope you two are very happy together.”

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I puffed my cigarette angrily but the words rang true. I was over it and I wished them well. In fact, I realized, they deserved each other. Possibly more than two people ever had. “She broke up with me,” Johnny said, shuffling his feet. I laughed. I sat down my glass and my smoke and held my belly and laughed. I laughed until my eyes streamed and though it hurt my one eye like the blazes, I couldn’t stop laughing. Finally, I wiped them dry and managed a weak, “I’m sorry, Johnny. You can go now.” “I have nowhere to stay,” he said to his feet. “Did Craig tell you I was here?” “Nah. He wouldn’t. I figured it out from some stuff he said. I remembered how to get here from that one time.” “How did you get here?” “A friend dropped me off.” “Call them back,” I barked. “I can’t.” “Why not?” “Sheila dropped me off and now she’s gone. She won’t come back for me.” “Tough shit,” I said and pointed toward the door. “Blyth…I have nowhere to go. I don’t have any money. I’ll leave tomorrow. I promise. Just let me stay tonight.” “No.” “Please. Blyth. I have nowhere to go.”

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“I’m being punished,” I said and crushed out my cigarette. “What?” “The loser parade,” I sighed. First June, now him. “I don’t get it.” “I’m sure you don’t. One night. The sofa. No bullshit.” I said. Then I looked at the clock. Four thirty. No Anthony. Possible black eye and cheating ex in the house. Suddenly, I was exhausted. **** I had to get out of the house. I could not sit there wondering about Anthony with Johnny underfoot. I left him sitting on the sofa like he owned the joint, drinking a beer and watching golf on TV. I walked to the store. I needed to walk. I would get some lunch meat, some sodas and some wine. Maybe some chocolate. Definitely some chocolate. The situation called for the calming effects of the cocoa bean. I looked for him everywhere. Every black vehicle that passed, I inspected. Any time a black truck came my way, my heart jumped in my chest. None of them were him. I made a quick tour through the grocery store and got what I needed. I purchased a canvas tote to carry my things home. I walked back to the condo listlessly, now certain that I would not see him. That he was quite possibly gone for good. One night of whispered sorries and confessions and poof! gone like a genie in a story book. Johnny was snoring on the sofa when I got back. His hand shoved down the front of his pants protectively. I assume he thought someone might try to steal his dick while

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he slept. I put the groceries away, not bothering to be quiet. If I woke him, I woke him. I did not owe him courtesy. Six forty-five. I was not hungry. I was tired and frustrated and I gave into it. I went to lay on my bed and read. I tried to focus on the words but the book kept tipping and my eyes kept closing and I kept waking myself up snoring ever so lightly. Finally, I gave in and put the book on the floor, curled on my side and gave myself up to sleep. I knew it was a dream. I could tell by the way everything was surreal and at one point I tried to wake myself up. Because it wasn’t really a dream but a nightmare. There I was, hair up in curlers, cigarette dangling from my lips, baby on my hip. “I’ll be going out with the boys tonight, baby,” Johnny said and picked a toddler up off the floor. “Say good-bye to daddy, Johnny Junior,” he cooed and the toddler smacked him in the forehead with a grungy sippy cup. Even in my dream I laughed. Then I choked on cigarette smoke and started hacking in a very unattractive manner. The baby’s face crinkled and it burst into hysterical wails. I crushed out the cigarette and continued to hack even as I jostled and rocked and patted the baby’s bottom. The baby’s soaking wet, leaking through the diaper bottom. Eww. “That’s not nice, Junior,” Johnny was saying and rubbing the growing knot on his forehead.

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Again I laughed, because Junior had only done what I wanted to do every four or five seconds. “Give us a kiss, darling,” Johnny said and leaned toward me. His big rubbery looking lips wet and ready. I cringed and the baby bit my shoulder. “Ow!” Teething I assumed, though in real life I knew nothing about babies. Johnny’s lips found mine and even though I tried to pull back, he managed to plant one on me. I quickly wiped my lips with the back of my hand to avoid contamination. “I’m outta here. I’ll be home late, don’t wait up, my beautiful bride.” Oh gah. Bride. We were married. We had procreated. I had to wake up. This could not be my life. It would never be my life. A car horn sounded and Johnny high tailed it out the front door after patting Johnny Junior on the head. Junior promptly threw a block at his father. I went to the window and peeked. When Johnny opened the car door the inside light popped on. In the car was Sheila. All dolled up. Not a roller in her hair. No spit up on her blouse. Boobs hiked up and out in the most wondrous of wonder bras. She smiled at my husband and leaned over to kiss him. A big wet, long kiss with lots of tongue. I sighed and patted the screaming baby. Even in my dreams I couldn’t hold onto a man. Not that I wanted that man. But it was sad to know that I was still the loser in my own damn dreams. “You son of a bitch!” I woke up.

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Chapter 12

That wasn’t my dream. I sat straight up in bed and looked at the clock. Nine thirty. I’d been asleep for hours. A huge crash and the sound of breaking glass echoed through the condo and I scurried out of bed. In the main room, Johnny was lying in a bed of busted glass, the coffee table was no more and Anthony was standing over him looking like a bull about to charge. “What the fuck is he doing here?” he demanded as I stood like a deer in headlights. His eyes took me in, doing an inventory. Of what? “He…um…” I couldn’t think. I was scared to be honest. I had seen Anthony angry. In fact, I had seen Anthony angry more than I had seen Anthony happy. Never like this, though. His green eyes wild and hooded. His hair standing out in spikes and horns. His chest rose and fell with his harsh breathing. My stomach bottomed out and my hands felt cold. “Why is he here?” he roared and took a step toward Johnny. Johnny turned and curled into a ball like a turtle retracting into its shell. I was no fan of Johnny. Couldn’t stand him any more, to be honest. I did not, however, want to see him beat to a pulp and sent to the Emergency Room. “Anthony!” I yelled, hoping he would hear me through the fog of rage he seemed to be stuck in. “Stop! Listen to me. He was staying here for one night and then leaving. Sheila dropped him off and he had nowhere to go. It’s fine. It’s fine.”

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“Fine? It is not fine. This is the Johnny, right? The reason why you’re here? And you let him stay here overnight? This is my place, too. At least until I get a place. Craig wouldn’t want this asshole here. Craig told me about him. What he did to you. What happened to you after. How he broke your heart!” Each word got louder until it seemed as loud as the roar of the ocean. My ears hurt. My heart hurt. He took another step toward Johnny and Johnny rolled through the busted glass as if he could simply roll away. Roll out of sight. Anthony bent, lifted him by his collar and the back of his pants, forcing Johnny to his feet. I took a step forward, uncertain of what I would do. What I could do. Anthony spun and hissed at me. “You do not come to his rescue. You do not defend this piece of shit. You stay right there.” I froze. “Did he touch you?” “Of course not!” He nodded as if satisfied and muttered, “And he never will again.” Then he gave Johnny the bum’s rush, tossed him outside and slammed the condo door. And he turned on me. I backed away from him because he really did look insane. “Where have you been?” I asked, because it was all I could think of. He continued toward me looking like a crazy man. I had backed into my room and not the backs of my knees banged the mattress of the day bed. “Fishing,” he said. Soft. Quiet. Crazy man, voice. “Oh. Well, it was really no big deal.”

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“It is to me. When Craig called--” “Craig called?” I chirped. Why had Craig called? He nodded and undid his belt. My throat closed with fear but my body thumped with excitement. Anthony nodded and undid his button, his zipper. I swallowed hard and tried to back up more. Nowhere to go. “I wonder why he called,” I said dumbly. I wanted to run and I wanted to submit. I couldn’t decide. “He didn’t touch you?” he said again as if it were the most important thing in the world. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me before I could even answer. I shook my head no. My hands and knees were shaking, my belly was fluttering and my cunt was weeping. I wanted him and I wanted his anger. I liked it. Deep down, if I was honest, I liked that he was nearly blind with rage and jealousy. Rough hands up the insides of my thighs, pushing past my nightie, finding me bear and wet underneath. He shoved his fingers into me without preamble. This was all he wanted. It was all I wanted, too at that moment. I could feel it. Sliding up my spine like a brush fire. He was claiming me as his and my entire being seemed to vibrate at the thought. He pulled me back against him. My back pressed against his chest. My ass crack riding the hard ridge of his cock. He slid his hands down, cupped my mound, worked his fingers over my clit until I couldn’t breath. His blunt fingers moving harshly on that swollen button. Just as warmth spread through me, he bit my neck at the most tender spot. I cried out but the sharp intense pain shot through me and seemed to unwind in

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me. Up through my sex into my chest, my throat, my mind. Opening me up. I let myself go into him. Relaxed. He could have me. When I did that he bent me over the mattress. Braced my hands on the decorative brass scroll that ran the length of the day bed. He hiked my nightie up, pulled my legs wide and smoothed his hands over my ass. “My handprints are still here,” he said. His voice scared me but it made me wetter. He didn’t sound quite like a man. “I know,” I breathed, not daring to move. He played his fingertips over the marks. Pushed and prodded just enough to make them sting and throb in response. “Do you look at them? Do you touch them?” His fingers dipped into my wet slit and I shuddered under him. “Yes,” I nearly sobbed. His fingers felt so good. His heat. I could feel him behind me, a huge looming presence. Angry and taut and wielding his cock like a weapon. “You should. And when these fade, I’ll give you more,” he grunted and thrust into me. His cock stretched me, filled me. I cried out as he tilted me forward a little more. I hung onto the brass for dear life. His fingers bit into my hips and he fucked me roughly. His hands flit about, letting me go, and smoothing my skin. Traveling the seam of my ass, clutching at my lower back and then reaching up to free my breasts from the bodice of my nightgown. He cupped my breasts as he pounded into me. Hitting the sweetest spot inside of me over and over again as I struggled to keep my footing. Tears leaked from my eyes. He pinched my nipples hard and my cunt seized up around him. I was going to come. Already.

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The spot on my neck where he had bitten me throbbed. My scalp felt alive with electricity as my body geared up for orgasm. “He never comes in here again,” he rasped and put his big hands on my shoulders. The weight of his hands forced me lower, my body bowed under his strength. I was lost to him. I nodded. No words. I could only nod as he thrust into me deeper and I teetered right there on the edge of release. “Never again. You are off limits. You’re mine. Got it?” he growled and his hands pressed between my shoulder blades so my face was nearly on the mattress. He pounded into me and I nodded again. “Mine.” On that word the dam broke. Spasm after spasm of warm pleasure worked through me until I was babbling. Just a stream of words. Nonsense. Yes, yes, Anthony, oh, yes, oh… My mouth continued to work around sobs of pleasure and I had no idea what I was saying. Then he pulled me up crushed my back to his front. His hands pawed at my breasts. Cradled and pinched and soothed. “Mine,” he said in my ear and then bit the tender lobe while thrusting up into me. Still joined but somehow tangled together. “Yes.” And he emptied into me. Bucking against me like he was dying. He held me against him and emptied into me. His body hot against mine. His heart beating against my skin. Then I was on the day bed. Cradled on his lap. His hands in my hair.

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“What did you say to me last night?” I asked. If I couldn’t talk to him now, I never would be able to. It was now or never. “I told you I was sorry,” he said. His voice was now soft and gentle. The anger seemed to have faded like a bad memory. “I told you I was scared.” He laughed. “I told you a lot. You don’t remember?” I shook my head. “No, I was so tired. I couldn’t focus. I could hear you talking but somehow it lulled me. Your voice soft for the first time. It lulled me to sleep. And then I woke up and you were gone.” “I’m sorry, again. I have a lot to deal with. You stirred up a lot.” I nodded. For now it could go. For now we could just sit in this moment and we could work the rest out later. I had no idea what would happen but I looked forward to finding out. And that, in itself, was a breakthrough. This time when I fell asleep, lulled by his voice whispering to me, it was in his arms. When I woke up. He was still there. **** I had just finished sweeping up the busted tempered glass when the phone rang. Anthony had gone off to buy food to stock the house. He insisted we needed something more than cold cuts for the remainder of our time here. “Hello?” “Everyone still alive?” Craig asked. I could hear the smile in his voice even as my heart jumped. I felt awful for what had happened here this week. Cat fights, broken furniture, exes being tossed out onto the lawn. We’d made a spectacle of ourselves alright.

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“Yes. So far,” I sighed. “I assume a neighbor or two has kept you updated?” “Mr. Sanders from two doors over reported a tall, skinny, man being tossed onto the front walk last night,” he laughed. “To be honest, I didn’t expect Johnny to make it down there that fast.” I blinked. “What? You knew Johnny would come?” “Honey, I set Johnny up.” “I’m lost.” I admitted. “First you double book me with Mr. Sex. Then you send my ex down here to harass me? Is this your definition of friendship? Torture?” “Where’s Anthony?” Craig asked, ignoring my questions. “At the store. And I am cleaning up your busted ass coffee table. Which, I will not be replacing now that I know it is basically your fault that it’s busted.” “Screw the coffee table. You and Anthony…ahem…getting along?” “Yes. For now. Why? And explain this to me, Craig. So help me, if you do not explain, I will thoroughly kick your ass when I get home.” “Short version cause I gotta get to work. You needed someone. A good man. Anthony needed to get past his fear of caring for someone. A man can only bang so many stand ins before he has to give himself a chance at something more. And Johnny needed a dose of karma.” His laughter filled my ear and despite myself I smiled. “So, you set me up? You sent me here to get Anthony over his Don Juan ways, and so I could find a quote unquote, ‘good man’. And then you sent Johnny here to…?” “To show Anthony that he actually cared about you. I've talked to him. I know how he feels about you. He didn’t, but I did. Johnny was…a fuse. I set the fuse and let

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Anthony explode. Now maybe you can convince the man to give up this fish market thing and go back to fighting fires. It’s what he’s born to do.” I sighed. “I don’t know if anyone can convince Anthony of anything,” I said. “And what makes you think we’ll end up together anyway?” “Gut feeling.” “We’ll see,” I said, emptying the dustpan into the trash. “We both have a lot of emotional storm damage to repair.” The front door opened. Anthony came in, arms full of grocery bags. Flowers clutched under one big bicep. He smiled at me. A big, open smile that was full of something other than anger. Of course my body responded as it had been programmed to, I wanted to jump him right there. In fact, I thought I must. “Look, I have to go,” I said. “Oh, is he home? Are you horny?” “Shut up,” I laughed. “I’ll tell him you said, hi.” “Tell him I said he should marry you. At the very least, have your babies.” Now I was laughing so hard my eyes were watering. “I’ll let you tell him that yourself. But later. Right now I have to go.” “Go on with your hot monkey sex,” Craig chuckled. “I’ll talk to you later, Blyth. Enjoy these last days.” “I will…and Craig?” “Yeah, babe?” “Thanks.”

The End

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ABOUT SOMMER MARSDEN Sommer Marsden’s work has appeared in dozens anthologies and on numerous websites. Some of her favorite books include I is for Indecent, J is for Jealousy, L is for Leather, Spank Me, Tie Me Up, Whip Me, Ultimate Lesbian Erotica ‘08, Love at First Sting, Open for Business, Tasting Her, Hurts So Good and Yes, Sir. She is also writes The Seekers novellas for Eternal Press and is the author of The Anniversary Party for Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. She lives in Maryland and keeps her alter ego to herself. Not really. She had a big mouth and knows how to use it. She has many addictions and has no intentions of getting help for any of them. They currently include red wine, writing smut, long walks, the downward dog position, emails, blog hopping, and biscotti. You can reach her at [email protected] or visit her at SmutGirl.blogspot.com to keep up with her dirty ramblings.

If you enjoyed DOUBLE BOOKED, you might also enjoy:

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SAVING GRACE By Rachelle Le Monnier After the death of her beloved husband, Peter, Grace sells up in an attempt to make a fresh start and move on with her life. Although she knows Peter would have wanted her to fall in love again, she can’t imagine being with another man— let alone one half her age—but during the long, sultry summer in her new home, Grace finally rediscovers her passion and laughter again when she embarks on a bittersweet love affair with Tom, her neighbour’s son. Will their May to December relationship survive the wrath of his interfering mother—or will he leave her behind at the end of their summer together and go travelling as originally planned?

Warning: This title contains graphic language and sex.

Excerpt From SAVING GRACE:

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“Why do you want me?” she asked eventually. She was still struggling to understand what he saw in her. “Because you’re beautiful and I want to erase that sad look you have in your eyes.” “No, I’m not.” She sucked in a sharp gasp of air when he slowly slid his hands up her rib cage and brushed the undersides of her breasts. “I beg to differ,” he said. She closed her eyes and allowed the sensuality of his touch to ignite her senses. From somewhere deep inside, she thought she heard Peter’s voice, telling her to enjoy this for what it was – a simple act of pleasure. He’s right, she decided. It was obvious Tom wanted her despite the age difference. For once in her life she was going to live for the moment. Bugger the consequences.

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