Satisfy Me

Books by Renée Alexis

GOTTA HAVE IT

HE’S ALL THAT

Books by Fiona Zedde

BLISS

A TASTE OF SIN

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

Satisfy Me
Renée Alexis
Sydney Molare
Fiona Zedde

APHRODISIA

KENSINGTON BOOKS
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
 Contents

Still the One 1

Renée Alexis

Her Wildest Fantasy 85

Sydney Molare

Pure Pleasure 187

Fiona Zedde
Still the One
Renée Alexis
October 30

10:00 A.M. Mr. Ellery looked like an undertaker, but he was

much more than that. He was the finder of lost loves, or, in this
case, the finder of wanted-to-be loves. He sat his jet-black
briefcase on the table in front of the gentleman who hired him
and said, “I found her.”
A calmly excited voice responded. “Really? Where?”
“She owns several pharmacies in the metro area but mainly
works out of the one at 906 Dayton Street; Stuart’s Pharmacy.”
“A pharmacist?”
“Correct. She’s been one for almost ten years now.”
“Here in Cleveland, you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She was always a smart, pretty young thing. I knew she’d
make it big one day. Christ. She’s been under my nose all this
time, and I didn’t know it.”
“She’s been here for only two years. I traced her from work
records in California.”
4 / Renée Alexis

“Still, two years—I should have seen her.” The client slid the
envelope of money across the table to Mr. Ellery. “Job well
done. I appreciate your time.”
“I appreciate your business.” Mr. Ellery took a card from his
wallet and handed it over. “Pass the word. My prices are fair,
and I can negotiate.”
“What you just did for me is worth a mint. And if she’s open
to seeing me, I’ll be glad to endorse your ad in the Metro Times,
free of charge, naturally.”
“That’s what I call spreading the word.”
The client watched as Mr. Ellery walked from the office, and
then called directory assistance to get the number for Stuart’s
Pharmacy. “Hello?” The voice on the other end was definitely
that of Ms. Beverly Stuart. Her voice hadn’t changed in almost
twenty years, and he relished the sound of it. He tried to
sound rational as he spoke. “Can you tell me what your store
hours are? . . . And that is 906 Dayton Street, correct? . . .
Thank you.”

At 7:30 that evening, the man approached Stuart’s Phar-

macy and stared at the building covered with garish Halloween
decorations. She had always been the festive type—it fit so well
with her personality: bubbly. He smiled at the talking Dracula.
“Never steal a drop without your Blue Cross identification card.
It could save your life!” Cute, real cute. He walked in.
Behind the counter, Beverly kept her eyes on the exact
dosages to get her customers’ prescriptions right and ready for
tomorrow-morning pickups. Fresh out of a terrible relation-
ship, working like crazy to keep her mind occupied was the
only thing left to do.
As she worked, she thought over her life, wondering if she
did the right thing by putting Tony out a few weeks ago. He
was good for curing the loneliness for a hot minute, but that
was it. Other than that, he wasn’t worth the dime in his pocket.
 S TILL THE O NE / 5

As usual, her next set of doubts set up camp in her mind: would
she have had a happier life in San Diego if she hadn’t moved
back to Cleveland? Living in California was fine, but she missed
her family, friends. One in particular came to mind: Debbie
Jacobs. They’d been pals years ago, despite the constant pres-
ence of Debbie’s kid brother and all-around monster, Ethan
Jacobs. Ethan had always been cute in his way, but he was a
pest.
When you’re fourteen, you for sure don’t want a snotty-
nosed little chump tagging along. She and Debbie were at the
age where they had the hots for boys and any X-rated film they
could sneak in to. That ended when Debbie’s mother went to
work in the ER of Oakland Medical and was on call most
nights. Ethan was practically forced on them, and even at the
tender age of eight, the little snot was sizing Beverly up. Yes,
the cute little tyke wanted her; as if he knew something about
sex. Frankly, it grossed her out to think Ethan was smiling at her.
Sure, she was considered pretty, with satin-brown skin, long
ginger hair, and dark brown eyes, but she didn’t want a kid
drooling over her. Yuck! As it always happened, Ethan was
around because she and Debbie were inseparable. They were
mad about the boys and were going to get to them, come hell or
high water—even if they had to have Ethan right behind them.
That was many stories and lifetimes ago. She had lost con-
tact with Debbie, who had gotten married right out of high
school to one of those boys they were hot over. Beverly went
on to college to become a pharmacist. As far as Ethan was con-
cerned, she hadn’t any idea what happened to him. She just as-
sumed he got hauled off to some institution for the sexually
insane. Good for his little butt. Other than right now, she hadn’t
actually thought about him too much.
The last thing she wanted to be doing on Devil’s Night was
working late doing the books. Her idea of a cozy, haunted night
was to be in front of her television watching anything scary fea-
6 / Renée Alexis

turing her favorite, Mr. Vincent Price. Weirdos and slashers

were her thing, for some reason. Maybe it stemmed from want-
ing to do away with Ethan years ago.
Nonetheless, her work night was to be a long one—at least
for another hour. She owned several pharmacies in the metro
area and had to make sure everything was right before opening
the following morning to sell packets of alcohol chasers to late-
night partyers. Yes, Halloween would be a big night—her phar-
macy would make a mint on inebriation fixers and keep Cleveland
hangover free.
It wasn’t quite closing time, and there were a few customers
left to serve, plus another employee who hadn’t left yet. Beverly
was about to let her off early when another customer came in.
She watched other customers leave and told her employee to
take off, that she could handle the last guy who’d just come in.
Carol really didn’t seem to want to leave Beverly in there
alone with a strange man on that particular evening—either
that or Carol was checking out how fine his ass was and wanted
to hook up with him later. No matter, Beverly made her leave
so she could size him up instead.
This gentleman was just browsing, and she didn’t know if
he’d come in for a prescription or what. After a few more min-
utes of staring his delicious ass down, Beverly decided it was
time for him to either buy something or leave. She was tired
and wanted to get back to the comfort of her own queen-size
bed—alone. This man was cute though, cute enough to share
that big bed with. She couldn’t help checking him out. Some-
thing about him made her stare, stare, stare. There was something
more than an instant attraction, something familiar about him,
but what?
She noticed how his eyes would search her, then dart away
like he was shy. Maybe it was a male thing—checking out the
action. That was cool with her, because he was the sexiest thing
that had ever stepped foot in there. Her usual customers were
 S TILL THE O NE / 7

men in their seventies and eighties, humped over and trying

their best to flirt while flashing a toothless grin. That wasn’t
about to happen, not for her. If she was to take up with a man
ever again, it would be the long, lean, sexy type, the type that
was walking her way. The gentleman was definitely an atten-
tion getter, and she hated the fact that his very persona was
close to flooring her. He was stacked, had dark curly/straight
hair, and looked like the baseball player Alex Rodriguez
(A-Rod), who was as fine as a needle in a haystack; a welcome
sight!
Beverly was actually a little nervous about speaking to him,
for fear of mumbling gibberish. She cleared her throat. “Sir,
we’re about to close. Is there something I can help you with?”
He walked up to the counter, and her legs got weak. He
smiled and skyrocketed her straight to the moon. Even his
teeth were pretty—straight, with no gaps or missing teeth, just
perfect. He was damn fine walking DNA. Beverly was used to
primates or single-celled organisms like Tony or her ex-hus-
band, BJ, because that was all that approached her. She knew
she was lovely—why couldn’t she get the handsome ones?
Even this man, she thought, was going to buy whatever he
needed and then leave the store.
As he approached her, he looked straight into her eyes. At
first he didn’t say anything, but she encouraged him a little.
“Sir, are you okay? Can I get you anything? We are about to
close.”
He leaned in to her with that delicious smile. “You sure the
hell can get something for me, Beverly Stuart.”
That floored her. How did this stranger know her name?
Her lab coat was thrown across the chair, and he couldn’t see
the name on it. Again she cleared her throat, “Excuse me? Who
are you?”
“You don’t remember?” he added with a wrinkling of his
forehead.
8 / Renée Alexis

Beverly stood there as patiently as possible, hoping he wasn’t

just a cute pervert. “I haven’t any idea who you are, and to be
frank, again, it’s closing time.”
“Then I’ll be frank with you. I’m Ethan Jacobs. Debbie
Jacobs’s brother. Do you remember me now?”
Before she could even think to control her words, it came
out. “Ethan? You can’t be serious! That little chump that used
to try to lift my skirt? For real, are you him?”
“Don’t I look like him? Mom says I haven’t changed a bit.”
She walked through the swinging pharmacy door while say-
ing, “For Christ’s sake, Ethan. How the hell are you? I was just
thinking about you.”
“You were thinking about me? The girl I thought hated my
very soul!”
“Well, you were a downright pest, but so are most little
boys.”
He looked himself up and down. “I’ve changed a bit.”
“I’ll say! Get over here and give me a hug.” She delivered the
biggest hug, something she never thought she’d give Ethan
Jacobs. He was so tall and sexy, and he smelled so good—Gucci
aftershave. His muscles showed even under the tweed blazer he
was sporting, and she could just about feel everything on him.
Yes, he was definitely better than that little snot who wor-
shipped the panties she walked in.
He’d grown up nicely from head to toe. He used to be so
skinny, but he was perfect now, tight, taut, and in all the right
places. Beverly couldn’t believe her eyes. It was the one and
only Ethan Jacobs. Her fingers smoothed across his warm
cheeks. “How have you been? Where have you been?”
“I’m doing great, got my own business here in town. I never
left. I own a Lexus dealership on Montcalm Avenue; doing the
paperwork for another one. You know I always loved tinkering
with cars—and with you.”
She wanted to melt right in front of him, but she managed a
 S TILL THE O NE / 9

little self-control somehow. He kept talking while she tried not

to be obvious in scouring him down to his very nucleus.
He continued. “I have a little girl I just got custody of, and
I’ve bought a new house.”
She had managed somehow to hear what he was saying but
was still in dreamland imagining the size of his erection and
how it would feel plowing into her. “Really? How old is she?”
“Five and driving me crazy.”
“I remember just how insane you were as a kid. You couldn’t
keep still, and everywhere Debbie and I went, you were sure to
go, like Mary’s little lamb or something. I didn’t even know
how you found us most of the time, because we used to hide
from you. Remember?”
“I remember, but I was determined to find you, Bev, just like
tonight. I didn’t need anything in here but you.” He smiled like
something wild and sexy was inside him. That’s what he was,
wild and sexy, always had been—probably always would be.
She was surprised he’d had only one child.
Ethan took her hand and kissed it. “I’ve always wondered
what happened to you. You were, and still are, the prettiest
thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The only thing was, I just didn’t
know if I’d ever have a chance with you. Yes, I know I was
eight the first time I met you, but—”
“Actually, you were five when I first met you, and you al-
ways had a runny nose.”
He grinned. “You have an excellent memory, but this is all
about you, now. Even when I was ten, I wanted you. When I
was thirteen, you were still the best game in town. When I
turned fifteen, I thought you were so super-hot, I broke into
hives just hearing your name. And believe me, men were calling
your name a lot.”
“Really? How’s that? I was never the precocious type.”
“Girl, all I can say is when a man sees you, he never forgets
you. I sure remembered.”
10 / Renée Alexis

“I see that. What took you so long?”

“Fear, skepticism. Believe it or not, once I grew up, I got
shy. But only around you. You’d speak to me when you saw me
and actually treated me as if you really liked me. That set me
off. I felt like I was human to you. I wanted to make my move
on you then, but you moved away.”
She smiled and shook her head. “I simply can’t believe you
had that much of a thing for me. I thought it was just some silly
crush that would go away the minute you hit middle school.”
“It went deeper than that, way deeper. You see, I found you
after all these years. You just disappeared one day. What hap-
pened?”
“I transferred to another university in southern California
to get my degree. Your sister and I were out of contact by the
time I returned to Cleveland, my other friends were either mar-
ried or moved away. Back then I just figured I’d leave, too; start
over somewhere else. I didn’t think anything was left here for
me.” She smiled into his eyes. “Apparently that wasn’t the
case.”
“It certainly wasn’t. Had I known, I’d have searched the city
to try and convince you of how I really felt.”
She wanted to tell him that she was here for him now, but
wasn’t that forward? She didn’t really know if he was still that
attracted to her. Maybe he only wanted to see her for sentimen-
tal reasons. His next sentence changed her mind.
“I’m still going crazy over you, Beverly. I just can’t help my-
self. You consume me.” He looked down at his Rolex, and then
back at her. “Look, I know it’s late, and you’re probably very
tired, but would you join me for a drink? My buddy Tad owns
the new pub on Lexington.”
After all these years. . . . She couldn’t get over the fact that
she was accepting a drink with Debbie’s younger brother. But she
wanted to be with him now—though that was the last thing she
 S TILL THE O NE / 11

thought she would ever admit to. Ethan was different now, a
man—apparently a man who had a lot going for him. It wasn’t
an everyday occurrence for a black man to be an owner of a
Lexus dealership, and on Montcalm Avenue at that. That was
the ritzy part of town.
“Sure, I’d love a drink about now. It’s been pretty busy
around here—you know, end-of-the-month hell, getting pre-
scriptions filled before the prices raise for the following month.
I try to give my elderly clients every thinkable discount, be-
cause they deserve it. They’ve lived long enough to get respect
from someone. The government sure doesn’t do it.”
He smiled and kissed her cheek, feeling the glory of her soft
skin against his hungry lips. “You always had a way of caring
about others. Even me. I was a pain in the ass, but you and
Debbie looked out for me once I found you.”
“Someone had to do it. God only knew you were stupid
enough to run in front of cars.”
“The car would have gotten the worst end of the deal.”
“Maybe so. I’d hate to see anything happen to you now.”
She slowly released his hand. “Let me grab my coat.”
Ethan watched the love of his life whisk to the back and lock
up. He looked at her pharmacy, realizing she’d done really well
for herself. Somehow he’d known she would, but he was even
more impressed with her: Beverly was a raving beauty with just
as much brains as loveliness. He was so thankful that she seemed
happy to see him again.
Beverly came out wrapping the belt of her leather jacket
around her trim frame and laced her fingers around his again.
“I’m ready to have that drink with Debbie’s kid brother.” Even
she had to smile at the sound of it. So did he.
“Kid brother, huh? How I’d love to show you how much of
a ‘kid brother’ I no longer am.”
“One step at a time, Ethan. I’m still amazed at how tall
12 / Renée Alexis

you’ve gotten.” She looked into his face with a lighthearted ex-
pression. “The second thing I can’t get over is that you own a
dealership.”
“Actually, in about two weeks I’ll be the proud owner of a
Mercedes dealership.”
“Unbelievable!”
Once they were out in the unusually warm October air, she
automatically headed for her Cadillac. “You deal with cars all
day; let me drive. I know where Tad’s pub is. Remember, he
was a little pest just like you were. When you weren’t trying to
put Debbie and me into the nut ward, you were out being a
menace to society with him.”
“You remember Tad well. He’s still a hell-raiser.” Ethan
pulled her arm. “Ride with me. My Lexus is just over there. I’ll
bring you back to yours later—much later.” There was that
sexy grin again, ready, willing, and definitely able to melt her
heart and a whole lot more. From the feeling between her warm
thighs, she knew there was a new Ethan in town, and in such a
sensuous body.
It was warm and cozy inside his car, and he took off his suit
jacket. He was wearing a smooth silk shirt and matching tie.
Just watching him take off that tie made her panties super-wet.
He leaned against the seat and started the engine. Years ago, she
couldn’t imagine the likes of Ethan Jacobs behind the wheel of
anything but a Tonka truck. Times sure were different.
He took her hand. “It’s been a long time, Bev. What’s been
going on with you?”
“Not a lot, just working for a living.”
“How long have you been in Cleveland without me even
knowing it?”
“Long enough to buy myself a couple of pharmacies, end a
relationship, and try to live my life.”
“Then you’re still single?”
“Yes, divorced two years.”
 S TILL THE O NE / 13

“Who would divorce you?”

“I divorced him. We weren’t right for one another. I wanted
monogamy; he wanted a harem. Plain and simple.”
He pulled into the street. “It sounds like he had the ‘simple’
part down to a science. What man in his right mind would want
more than you? You’d be enough for any man—certainly
enough for me, always have been.”
She smiled into his sensual eyes. “You have a way with
words. It’s working.”
“Hmm. How well are they working?”
“Perfectly, Ethan.” She didn’t know what else to say because
her emotions and libido were on overdrive. They drove to Tad’s
in silence, with hands joined and hearts growing warmer with
fondness and anticipation.
Minutes into listening to smooth jazz on WCLV, the over-
size neon sign of Tad’s pub came up on the right. Ethan smiled
at the sign. “He was always into big. Big fights, big women, and
big drinks.”
“All except for him. He’s still the same size he was eighteen
years ago.”
“Yeah, all five foot five inches of him. For a little dude, he
sure leads a big life.” He leaned over and kissed Beverly’s cheek
again, coming so close to the corner of her mouth that he had to
actually stop himself before he felt he’d get slapped. “Come on,
let’s get that drink.”
They walked into the dimly lit pub with country music
playing in the background. Ethan wrapped his arm around her
as he looked around for Tad.
“Why in hell would a short, loud-mouthed black dude be
playing Charlie Daniels’s, ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’?,”
she asked.
“Because he can, and because he’s weird that way.” Ethan
looked across the room and saw Tad running their way. “He’ll
give us a table in the back. Is that OK with you?”
14 / Renée Alexis

“Sure.”
Tad reached and pulled Ethan’s hand. “Dude! Where you
been lately?” Tad looked over and spied Beverly. A smile ap-
peared on his face that stretched from ear to ear. “I see you’ve
been taking in the action.”
“Don’t you know who this is, Tad?”
He took Beverly’s hand in his. “Who the hell wouldn’t
know the queen of Cleveland? Bev, so good to see you. By the
way, the article in People’s Monthly was outstanding. It really
did you and your pharmacies justice.”
“Thank you, Tad. Glad someone actually read that.”
Ethan broke in, needing Beverly back in his corner. “I didn’t.
But I will. Tad, got a table somewhere in the back?”
“You want some alone time with the beautiful Ms. Beverly
Stuart, huh?”
She blushed at the insinuation but followed along as Tad led
them to a secluded spot in back.
Tad pulled out her chair. “Secluded enough?”
Ethan slid in close to Beverly. “Perfect. Just perfect. What
do you want to start off with? Anything you want, you got.
Tonight is yours.”
“Tonight is ours, Ethan.” She thought for a second. “I’ll
have a glass of sherry.”
“Cutty Sark on the rocks for me.”
They both watched as the neighborhood loudmouth rushed
off to fulfill their order, but within moments their eyes locked,
and the air around them stood still.
Beverly was first to break the silence. “What made you want
to be a business owner? I figured you’d be a construction worker
type who whistled at the first miniskirt that passed you.”
“You were the only woman I wanted to whistle at, but after
you left I decided to go to school, do something with my life. I
got my MA in business administration, and bought my first
dealership two years later.”
 S TILL THE O NE / 15

“Hmm, cute and smart.”

“Is that what I am to you now?”
“Every step of the way.”
“I wish I had been that to you before you left town. I could
have been the reason you stayed.”
“Frankly, the only thing on my mind was finishing my doc-
toral degree. Then came BJ, who at the time was the love of my
life. That lasted a quick minute.”
“Right, the polygamy man. What a creep. All the better for
me, though.” He kissed her perfectly manicured fingers as the
drinks came. With her hand still in his, he sipped his whiskey.
“If I had been old enough to land you, you’d be my wife right
now. No other woman does it for me, Bev.”
“What about your daughter’s mother? What happened with
that?”
“Just about everything was my fault in the destruction of
our relationship.”
“Why?”
“Because she wasn’t you, plain and simple.”
That one compliment filled her heart with more warmth
than her nine-year marriage to BJ ever supplied. “It couldn’t
have been just you. There are always two sides to any failed re-
lationship.”
“True. She wasn’t ready to be a wife . . . or a mother. I’m
ready to settle down, live with someone who absolutely takes
me apart every time I look at her.”
She didn’t know how to handle that. Ethan Jacobs was actu-
ally making her nervous, but in all the right ways. Beverly
changed the subject in fear of him finding out that she was now
a willing pawn in any chess game he wanted to play. “What’s
your daughter’s name?”
“Danica. The second love of my life.”
“And the first one is, let me guess, that gorgeous car in the
parking lot.”
16 / Renée Alexis

“Wrong. I’m looking at her. Beverly, I know you don’t be-

lieve me, but I had to find you again. I was determined to see
you once more, even if you blew me off.”
“Why would I blow you off? You’re a perfect gentleman.”
“Maybe because when I want something, I never think I’m
worthy of it.”
“You are worthy, Ethan, and I’m enjoying your company.”
“Enough to have another exciting evening with me?”
“Sure. Besides, I want to meet Danica.”
Ethan nodded. “She asked me who you were when I men-
tioned your name once or twice. You stayed on my mind all
this time.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely, girl! That’s why I’d love to take you out to-
morrow night. What time do you close for the holiday?”
“Depends on where you want to take me.”
He swallowed the rest of his drink. “I’ve got a great idea,
something I’ve always wanted to do with you—a haunted
house. Tomorrow is Halloween, you know.”
She moved closer to him, feeling the heat of his thighs against
hers. “I am aware of that. I haven’t done one of those in years.”
“I’ve got the perfect one, if you’re game. It’s out a little
ways, but it’s creepy enough.”
“A monster behind every corner?”
“Better! Get this, Hideous Harry’s Hellish Hayride and
Haunted Haven. Sound fun?”
“What in the world? That sounds like a place you’d come up
with. It’s a hayride, too?”
“Yep! We can dressup, sit in the back of the hayride, and
make out!”
“No kids?”
“None. It’s strictly adults.”
“I’ve always wanted to go on a hayride.”
“Then let me take you on one. Say, about nine?”
 S TILL THE O NE / 17

She sipped the last of her sherry. “Let’s do it. Funny thing,”
she rubbed the back of his warm hands, wishing they were slid-
ing up her thigh and into her panties, “I never thought I’d be on
a date with Debbie’s baby brother.”
“It’ll be a hell of a date, too, like tonight. If only it could last
longer.” He looked at his watch. “I have to get Danica from her
mom in about an hour or so.”
“We have until then, don’t we?”
He slowly reached over and took a chance on kissing the
most delectable lips he’d ever seen. The very impact of her lips
on his stiffened an already super-stiff erection. He nibbled her
top lip in long, succulent caresses, doing the same to her lower
lip. The fact that Beverly was finally kissing him back loosened
his body, made him relax to her overtures. His soft voice filled
her ears. “God, Bev, I’ve wanted this so much. I used to dream
of you, dream of doing this with you, taking you into my arms
and making love to you all night. Is this real? Am I really with
you?”
She smoothed the front of his shirt, feeling his rippling mus-
cles, glorying in the touch and aroma of an all-grown-up Ethan.
“It’s hard to believe, but this is real, Ethan.” She kissed his lips
again before pulling back, staring into his dark eyes. “This is so
amazing.”
“Isn’t it just? Come on, let’s take a drive. Tonight is such a
beautiful evening. Let’s go to a park I know, take in the night
air, sit and talk, get to know one another for a few minutes.
Would you like that?”
“No one’s ever asked me that before. They usually led, and I
followed.”
“Tonight is going to be different.”

His car smelled just as good as he did, like smooth, rich

leather—a new-car smell. “How long have you had this?”
18 / Renée Alexis

“Oh, not long. I had it shipped in about a month ago. You

like it?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Like you.” He put his hand over hers and kept it there for
what seemed to be minutes, but was only seconds. The thing
was, she didn’t want him to move it. His skin felt good on hers,
and she liked it—a lot. He took a deep breath. “We’d better get
going before I get us in trouble. We’re all alone here and I could
get us in a lot of trouble, Bev—you know how crazy I am.”
The way he said that made her want to say, Forget the park.
Let’s get naked. Then she actually did say it, and didn’t even re-
alize it at first. She was so taken by how fine and gentle he’d be-
come.
That took him by surprise. “I thought I’d never hear you
say that to me.” He brought her hand to his mouth and started
sucking her fingers, every single one of them, nice and slow.
Ethan excited her like no man ever had before, especially con-
sidering her marriage and dates with Pleistocene men. He was
so different. What he was doing to her fingers put her in a
trance. She took her other hand and caressed his cheek. Before
long, her fingernails were tracing a line down his perfect nose
to his lip line. All along, her quivering voice was saying his
name over and over again. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize
you at first, Ethan.”
“Maybe I have changed.”
“No, you’re still gorgeous.”
“You thought I was gorgeous?”
“By the time you were in your teens, yeah. But I’d never
have told you that. I should have recognized you, though. Do
you remember those staring contests we used to have? I knew
every inch of your face, right down to those small freckles on
your cheeks.”
“Sure I remember, and I never lost.”
“I wonder why that was. Better control than me?”
 S TILL THE O NE / 19

“It was because I couldn’t take my eyes from you, Beverly. I

still can’t. I know every part of your beautiful face, and it’s even
more beautiful each time I look at you.”
He placed her fingers on his chest. His urgent movements
beckoned her fingers to work those buttons. She couldn’t wait
to unleash him. His body heat was radiating through his silk
shirt already, and she could feel how finely chiseled his chest
was; she couldn’t wait to see it, taste it. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan.
She was drowning in him.
She pulled back the unbuttoned shirt and raked her nails
gently up and down his chest. “You aren’t cold, are you?”
“I’ve never been hotter.”
That was just fine because her lips went right to his erect
nipples. Nothing had ever tasted that wickedly fantastic to her.
The warm intensity of her tongue made him tense with each
lick and she made sure to leave lavish wet streaks across his
beautiful bronze chest. He was smooth and sweet, like human
honey.
He let the seat back and placed her hand over his erection,
rocking it up and down with such friction, watching Beverly as
she stared into his incredibly handsome face.
“Ethan, let me—let me experience you.”
“It’s right here for you, sugar. It belongs to you, always
did.”
It was so hard and thick, practically touching his stomach.
She really got to work on him after feeling all of that. Tender
tongue massages continued to lap his chest while her fingers
played with his navel and zipper, inching it down. It was prac-
tically splitting apart from the size of him, and when she
reached in, she pulled it out—all of it, all nine inches. The man
was packing!
Ethan barely pulled away, needing to ask a question that
needed an immediate answer. “Have you really thought of me
before now?”
20 / Renée Alexis

She toyed with his lower lip, saying, “Every once in a while,
but I never expected this.” He wanted to say something else,
but her fingers covered his mouth.
“We can talk later. Now, we make love.” The decadence en-
sued as her tongue moved way down his chest, tickled his navel
with sweet torture. Moments later she was experiencing what
she knew he owned, taking what she knew was her destiny. She
heard the click of the seat reclining, smiled in complete satisfac-
tion, and then went all the way live on him. The very minute
her lips made contact with his tip, she knew he’d be a habit,
much harder to break than smoking or chocolate.
Her lips covered him, getting almost all of him in, and
slowly moved up and down, giving him the pleasure he de-
served, the pleasure she yearned for. He’d waited so long, and it
had been so unnecessary. Had he just found her sooner, her
lonely life would have been so complete. That was then, and
this was now. Ethan, Ethan—what a man, and what a world he
was in.
Beverly could hear his sexy voice just about howling, fog-
ging up the windows. Man, he even tasted like heaven and she
wondered then how good he’d feel inside of her. The very
thought made her want to slide out of everything she had on.
He was thinking the same thing. His hand slid up her skirt,
feasting on the feel of her silk hip panties, relishing in the mois-
ture her body emitted, knowing for damn sure what was to
come. There was no stopping those two long fingers. He con-
tinued prodding, poking, pleasing her, taking her to that point,
that magical point they could both share in with quivering
waves of unbridled ecstasy. He was pleasing her in every possi-
ble way. His low voice murmured, “God, I knew you were wet
and juicy like this.”
“Then don’t stop,” she breathed.
He played her insides so expertly she could hear his fingers
 S TILL THE O NE / 21

making contact with her nectar, a sound so incredible she did

come by the sound alone. Her muscles gripped his fingers and
held on tight. The deeper he went into her, the more her tongue
circled the underside of his erection. She moaned, “Ethan, take
me there. Take me there.”
He slowly moved his fingers out and took her face into his
hands. “My place or yours? I’ve gotta have you, Bev. I am so
losing it over you.”
“Right here, right now.” No words; he just followed her
command. He faced her, slid off her jacket, then the blouse and
bra, kissing each nipple and circling them with a slow, wet ton-
gue . . . driving her to drink, but from his well only. He licked
and sucked them so hard that she thought she was going to lose
her mind. Then she wriggled out of her panties somehow.
Within seconds the seat was reclined to its lowest position,
exactly the position Ethan ached for, and he slid her onto his
erection. Her core contracted around him, and it felt out of this
world. He filled her inch by glorious inch as they wrapped
their tongues around one another’s. He kissed so sensually, lap-
ping her into a frenzy while blowing the bottom out of her ten-
derness. He was rocking her so hard the car was bouncing.
Beverly thought the guy was going to have to get new
shocks for the car the next day. He didn’t look like he cared and
neither did she. Hell, she’d be happy to buy the shocks for him.
Her fingers twisted around the strands of his hair while his
strong arms held on to her. She could feel those tight muscles.
He was strong enough to hold her forever, and she loved it. She
never wanted to let him go. The more he pounded into her, the
more she was pulled toward the ultimate release, a sexual vor-
tex. It was as though she were racing into oblivion, but she
wanted to make it last. Beverly held on for as long as possible,
giving him all he needed. But the feeling was too hard to sub-
due—that wonderfully insane tension was draining her, making
22 / Renée Alexis

her want to come with this man like never before. When his
rocking motion spread her like an eagle’s wings, she let go, rode
the wave, and never looked back.
He stared at her as her orgasm showed upon her face. The
sight of watching her in that tremendous moment almost left
him speechless, other than what had to be said. “You’re so
beautiful. You’re so incredibly gorgeous, and I love every part
of you. Always have—ohhh—” At that, he came, spilling all of
God’s rain into her tight spot. He pumped so much cum into
her small body it flowed from her.
She screamed in excitement again, rocked by another or-
gasm simply from watching him. She thought she was going to
break his windows, having never wailed on a guy like that be-
fore.
When they finished, she looked into his flushed brown face
and kissed him again. Her body was still twitching and squirm-
ing because of him, and it felt so good. He was still inside her,
slowly pumping, getting the last bit of sex before they both col-
lapsed. He rubbed his hands up and down her back. “Let me
take you home with me tonight, every night for the rest of our
lives. I’ve waited long enough now, Beverly. I have to have you.”
She didn’t reply right away, just looked for her clothes,
slowly coming back to reality. “What about your daughter?”
“She can stay with her mother a little longer. You’ll love
Danica.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.” She straightened in his lap and
looked at him seriously. “I hope I wasn’t too forward tonight.
Should I have waited?”
He brushed the hair from her face and smiled. “Too for-
ward! Baby, I’ve waited my entire life for you. No, you were
right on time; don’t ever think otherwise.”
Beverly kissed the tip of his nose. “We’d better go. I want
more of you, but in a bed where I can see everything, and on a
 S TILL THE O NE / 23

night when we can be totally alone without you having to rush

back. You promised Danica, so you should go to her.”
“Can you wait another night? Because I know it’ll be damn
hard for me.”
“Of course I can. Your child comes first.” She sat down and
helped him put all the goodies back in order, both his and hers.
She began to get dressed, an awkward process inside a car, smil-
ing to herself. Ethan had gotten her clothes off a lot faster than
she could get them on. “How’s Debbie doing? I haven’t seen
her in ages.”
“Great. She and Ward live in Nevada with their five kids.”
“Five kids? Wow! Why aren’t you in Nevada with them?”
“I wanted to stay here.”
“Was it worth the wait?”
“After what we just did, what do you think?”
“I think I’ve been missing out on something really wonder-
ful, and that includes the man himself, not just the body. It
proves that silly baby brothers grow into sensual, smart men.”
She finished buttoning her blouse as Ethan watched. She could
feel his eyes scanning her, watching every move. “You really
have a flame for me, don’t you?”
“More like a five-alarm fire.”
“Is Ward still head-over-heels in love with Debbie?”
“Those two make out whenever they get a chance. Of
course, who’s to say I won’t do the same with you?”
“Then Debbie must still be the knockout she was before.”
“She’s still pretty and tall, but she has gained thirty pounds.
She said getting pregnant will do that.”
“I guess so, after five kids.”
Ethan kissed her hand. “You ever thought about having
your own little angels?”
“I used to think about it, but the marriage was all wrong. I
unfortunately married a man whose grandfather created the re-
volving door.”
24 / Renée Alexis

“What?”
“I’m serious. BJ’s grandfather Willis created the first work-
ing revolving door, and the talent stayed in the family, appar-
ently. BJ turned the door of my house into just that, a revolving
door. Bitches galore were flying in and out of there, spinning
that door so fast it made even his head spin.”
“Didn’t he see that he had the best thing in town?”
“I was good to him, really good. Probably too good.”
Ethan turned her face to meet his, their lips barely apart.
“You can be good to me, and believe me I’ll more than appreci-
ate it.”
Beverly felt her insides warming again as he kissed the cor-
ners of her mouth in tiny nibbles. “Ummm, Ethan, we’d better
stop before we end up in bed.”
“That’s my plan, girl. That sweet nectar you gave me a little
while ago can’t sustain me for long. I’ve waited my life for you,
and nothing but all of you will suffice. I’m hooked, have been
for years, and now that I’ve truly tasted the forbidden fruit—
well, if you thought I was a pest back in the day, you haven’t
really seen anything yet.”
What she saw in his eyes was total sincerity, unlike the other
men she’d been with, Ethan kept it real. For tonight, she told
herself, not quite willing to believe it could be forever. She had
to think this through.
“Ethan, I would love to spend more time with you, but I
know you have to get Danica.”
“You would love to spend more time with me?”
“Amazing, but true.”
Ethan laughed. “If I keep hanging with you, I’ll go plum
mad from desire. However, you’re right. I did promise my
baby . . . that is, my little baby . . . that she could spend time
with Dad before her grandma takes her from me tomorrow.”
“So, who’s your ‘big baby’?” Pretending as if she hadn’t a
clue.
 S TILL THE O NE / 25

“You! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

She rolled her eyes, and then looked at him. “Yes, actually. I
do enjoy hearing that from you, Ethan Jacobs. Christ! I still
can’t believe this. I’m here with Ethan, making love, wanting to
make more love, and enjoying every part of you.”
He cranked the engine. “Get used to it. I plan to hang
around forever.”

They turned into the parking lot of Stuart’s Pharmacy, and

Ethan kissed her again, hating to let her go, itching to get back
into her love as soon as he could. “You know I’m trailing you
home, Beverly. It’s late, and I wouldn’t want anything happen-
ing to you now that I really have you.”
“You don’t have to. I get home by myself every night.”
“Not now that I’m in the picture. Give me your number so
I can call and kiss you good night with loving words.”
She scribbled on the back of a business card. “I’ll put the
phone in bed with me.”
“I’d rather it was me.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
Ethan opened her car door and secured her inside before he
returned to his car. When she drove off, he sat there shaking his
head, thanking God again that he had found her—and wonder-
ing what would happen next. Being with Beverly made him
think of down home, blue-lights-in-the-basement parties, and
slow dancing . . . very slow dancing. It also made him think of
the downright dirty lyrics that James Brown screamed into the
mic. He turned on his CD player and selected number eighteen.
Automatically James screamed out, “Please, Please, Please,” his
second favorite song by the famous artist, second only to
“Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag.” Yes, Ethan knew he had a
brand-new bag, and it came in the form of a five-foot-seven
inch, dark brown-haired beauty named Beverly.
* * *
26 / Renée Alexis

There were no James Brown tunes in Beverly’s head, but

there was an incredible feeling in her heart . . . and in her body.
The thought of Ethan’s lips covering hers made the churning in
her core almost unbearable. Remembering how Ethan’s hands
had slid between her thighs, making her sex so super-hot made
her twist and turn in her bed. Never in a million years did she
think the likes of Ethan Jacobs would turn her body into a
quivering mass ready to detonate at his very command. After
two years of nonstop work to establish her pharmacies, she was
ready to experience life again.
Her evening with him had been way too short. Ethan, com-
ing back to her out of the blue, was everything she wanted a
man to be: attentive, sweet, and handsome as the dickens. He
took sex to an entirely new level. Fantasizing his body moving
swiftly in and out of hers made her react, react to the point that
her fingers moved to her still-moist core, feeling where he had
played until his satisfaction erupted all over her. Her tempo in-
creased, making her fingers slide between her wet folds with al-
most as much precision as his. Sexual satisfaction was but
seconds away, and her mind’s eye could only conceive of one
thing; Ethan’s bare chest, and how his tight, hard nipples felt
against her tongue. A sweet sensation exploded inside her as
she imagined Ethan hovering over her, pumping inch after inch
of his hot, stiff cock into her. In her mind, she could see herself
reaching for and smoothing his raging shaft, guiding it deeper
into her, pumping her, teasing her, heaving up and down as he
thrilled every part of her.
Her body jerked, and her soft, smooth voice called to a man
who was there only in memory—but what a memory he was.
The sheets fell from the bed; her legs parted farther and farther
as her make-believe lover turned her out. She felt like the freak
of the week, and for once, was glad to have that daunting title.
When she returned to herself, she looked around the room
in a haze. The moon shone brightly into her window, casting
 S TILL THE O NE / 27

eerie shadows of a nearby tree. Her gown was bunched be-

tween her thighs, and she knew her hair was a fright, but the
dream was well worth it. Was that what it was, a damn dream?
Was Ethan simply a dream? If so, why him?
She bounced from bed and looked into her mirror. The
hicky he’d given her was still on the side of her neck. It looked
sexy for some reason, and she delicately rubbed it, making sure
it was really there instead of something manufactured by an
overactive mind. She smiled at the tender bruise, liking the fact
that it was real and that he had given it with such passion.
She returned to her bed and pulled the scattered covers
above her still-heaving chest. Within minutes Beverly slipped
into sleep with one thing on her mind—seeing Ethan again the
next night.

Halloween . . .
At Beverly’s pharmacies, she and the other employees gave
out goodies to all the little monsters, witches, ghosts, and
wrestling stars. But not the candy they expected. She preferred
to hand out toothbrushes, fruit-flavored toothpaste, and other
cute cavity reduction items.
There was a feeling in the air, one that brought a sense of
pleasure and fun. Whether in California or Ohio, she had al-
ways thought of Halloween as just another holiday and would
sit at home alone and watch every Vincent Price movie she could
rent. This time was different. All Beverly knew was that it took
one thing to change her perspective—the love and feel of a deli-
cious man. She hadn’t had that feeling in years, not since she
threw the last of BJ’s girlfriends out of her house over a year
ago. Ethan Jacobs was now her man of the year, and she couldn’t
wait to close shop and get to him. The last of her scary little
darlings left, and she locked up early and flipped the door sign
to the CLOSED side, heading for a place to purchase a scandalous
costume.
28 / Renée Alexis

Halloween Town’s glowing neon sign could be seen from a

block away as she turned onto Lexington Avenue. Surely, she
could find the perfect costume. She checked her watch—she
had a little more than an hour before Ethan showed up to take
her on an excursion she’d never forget. And the hayride would
be fun too.
By nine that night, Beverly stood before her mirror, making
sure the costume she had selected fit perfectly, hugging every
curve. The barely black stockings and three-inch black heels
added to the appeal of the suit. Once satisfied with how she
looked, she checked her makeup, making sure the sparkling red
on her luscious lips shone enticingly. She brushed her long
silky strands and put them up in a sexy French twist, retrieved
her trench coat, and awaited her mysterious night stalker.
On the dot, Ethan rang her bell and awaited with a smile.
Beverly opened the door to see him in a costume she really hadn’t
expected. She took his hand, pulled him inside, and landed a
hungry kiss on his waiting lips. Their long, lavish kiss slowly
ended. Her voice echoed in a whisper. “I’ve been waiting for
this since I left you last night.”
“Really? You actually thought about me after you took me
to heaven and back?”
“More than I thought possible.”
“Yeah? What were your thoughts?”
She didn’t answer. His costume finally got her attention.
“Ethan, what the hell kind of a costume is that?”
“You like it?”
“I don’t exactly know.” She raised her arms in the air and
gave him a baffled look. “What are you?”
“I’m a condom!”
“A condom! You can’t be serious!”
“Very. I thought you’d get a kick out of it.”
She looked at the plastic-feeling, neon-black material cover-
ing him from his knees to his neck, with a white body suit under-
 S TILL THE O NE / 29

neath. He actually wore a hat that resembled the mushroomed

tip of a phallus. Automatically she moved back into his arms.
“That answers one of your questions.”
“What was that?”
“What I was thinking about in my bed last night. I fell asleep
thinking about how you plowed every single inch into a woman
who was so sex-starved, though I never wanted to admit that to
myself. You touched me in such delicious ways, Ethan. It was
amazing. After making love with you, I realized that I have
never really been made love to before.”
“I aim to please.”
“And your aim was on the money, with every stroke.”
“I put out your fire?”
“It’s still burning.”
“I can take care of that now, if you like.”
“No way, sir. I went through a lot to get this costume just
the way I want it.”
He slowly loosened the belt of her coat and spread it apart.
His eyes widened to a black and silver Playboy Bunny outfit
and heels. “You are out of this fucking world, Bev. Do you have
the fluffy bunny tail?”
“Reach behind me and find out, smart mouth!”
He definitely felt the fluff of cotton, but it wasn’t exactly the
tail that molded to his hot hands. He groaned and pulled her
closer, massaging a tight derriere that filled the costume to per-
fection. “How many times have I wished I could see you in an
outfit like this?”
“I knew you’d like it.”
“Like it! You don’t know the half of it.” He took her hand
and smoothed it across his already engorged shaft. “See how
hot it is for you? How about we stay here and do the bunny
hop?”
Her smooth, black-gloved hand caressed the stiff-as-metal
cock. “Tempting, but you mentioned Hideous Harry’s, and
30 / Renée Alexis

that’s where I want to go. We can play later; that secluded

hayride sounds like fun. I looked it up on the Internet.”
His nose nuzzled hers. “It sure can be, if we sit in the back.
And plan on that playing around, girl, because I am so ready
for you.”
“That’s my plan, Mr. Ethan.” She checked out his costume
again and shook her head. “Sure hope this is for adults only.”
“Don’t you worry your lovely head about that. I’ve got
some very adult plans for us when we get into that haunted
house.”
“Like what?”
“You’ll just have to see. You know me, it’s a mad fucking
minute every step of the way.”
She felt the top of her head. “Wait! I forgot my bunny ears.
You can’t be a Playboy Bunny without the entire costume.”
Beverly returned to the room wearing a headband with white
satin pointy ears. Ethan took her hand and proudly walked his
succulent playmate to the car.
As usual, the minute he got into the car, he flipped the CD
player to his favorite. James Brown’s “Sex Machine” automati-
cally came on. “I hope you like James, because he reminds me
of you.”
Beverly stared at him, confused. “I don’t think that’s a com-
pliment, Ethan. I’d rather not be known around town as the
King of Soul.”
He leaned over, nibbling her lower earlobe. “Every song he
sings reminds me of how we used to dance in our basement to
him. I envied my sister because the two of you used to slow
dance together. About two feet apart,” he added hastily.
“It beat dancing slow with you—then. Now is another story.”
The tips of her fingers slowly moved down the condom fabric,
stopping at his tight abs. “Hmm, suddenly Mr. Brown is sound-
ing awfully good.”
 S TILL THE O NE / 31

“I promise you a dance when we get back, but definitely not

in your basement. I always wanted to see your bedroom.”
Ethan reached into the backseat and handed her a Hallmark
bag. “Got you a little Halloween surprise.”
“That was sweet. Thank you.” She opened it and pulled out
a stuffed bear in a witch’s costume, holding a bag of goodies in
its paws. She looked up and smiled. “This is so cute, and it’s got
my favorite candies inside—Reese’s peanut butter cups. How
did you manage to remember that?”
“Like I’ve told you, I remember everything about Beverly
Stuart.” He saw the saddened expression on her face. “What’s
wrong?”
“I didn’t get you anything.”
He licked his lips at the hint of black stocking peeking from
her coat. “Believe me, I’ve got mine and plan on getting more.
Ready for Hideous Harry?”
Her hand covered his free one. “I’ve been ready for a long
time, but not for Hideous Harry.”

By the time they got to the farm, it was almost dark. The
trees in the distance were brilliant hues of orange and gold and
the setting sun cast an autumnal glow on the rest of the land-
scape. There were pumpkins scattered about, with many more
in the pumpkin patch, and apple trees all over the place. Beverly
stared through her window. “This is so beautiful, and peace-
ful.”
He pointed ahead. “See that big house? That’s where all the
freaky shit will happen.”
“And you know this because . . . ?”
“I’ve been here before, but it wasn’t any fun.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t here with you.”
Her grip tightened on his hand. “Well, you’re with the right
32 / Renée Alexis

person now.” She looked at the spooky, dilapidated farmhouse

again. “It looks like something out of The Texas Chainsaw
Massacre.”
“That’s the effect they were going for.”
“Well, it scared the shit out of me at the movies, and it’s scar-
ing me now.”
“Too scared to go inside?”
“I’m not that scared. Besides, didn’t you say the freaky stuff
was in there?”
“Yeah. Most of it.”
“Then I want to go in and be scared right into your arms.”
“Then let’s do it.”
At the front gate was a large wagon loaded with hay and sev-
eral other customers in various costumes waiting for it to leave.
Ethan escorted her from the car and pointed to several large
wagons in the middle of a cornfield. “Prepare for all your fan-
tasies to come to life. Your chariot awaits.”
Beverly took his hand and walked toward the first wagon.
“My fantasies started last night. I could hardly sleep for think-
ing of you. Far cry from that little girl who used to stick out her
foot just to see you trip.”
“I’d fall for you any day.”
He gladly trailed behind her as she led him to the wagon.
Before boarding, he stopped her. “This isn’t our wagon.”
“Aren’t they all the same?”
An uneasy look crossed his face. “Not exactly. You see, Harry
picked out a special wagon for a few of his close friends.”
“Would you be one of those ‘close’ friends?”
“Absolutely!”
She tugged on his costume. “So what’s so special about our
wagon?”
“Not as many people, for one thing. Ten tons of hay to hide
in. It gives us room to explore things, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, I get it! A haunted orgy.”
 S TILL THE O NE / 33

“Yeah, an orgy of many, but with two stars—you and I.”

“Look but don’t touch, for everyone else?”
“You got it.”
“Can’t wait.”
Ethan helped her aboard the wagon. Once he hopped on, he
found a secluded space in the back behind hay bales stacked
high enough to conceal them both. He sat her on his lap. “This
is good already, isn’t it?”
She smiled and kissed his lips. “I like sitting on your lap. I
can feel all the added perks already.”
Several more customers arrived before Hideous Harry
jumped on, looking like a farmer who was run over by his own
tractor. He grinned a toothless grin at everyone, moved long
strands of blond hair from his dirty face, and then screamed
out, “You ready to get the daylights scared out of you?” He
cracked his whip, and the horses jolted into step, following the
other wagon. Harry added, “The first of you to spot ten of my
dead relatives gets free admission to the haunted haven.
Ready!”
Ethan leaned against a bale of hay, whispering into Beverly’s
ear. “I have other things to search for besides dead relatives.”
Beverly shifted on his lap, making his erection higher, tighter
and ready to plunge into her crotchless costume—another added
feature Ethan hadn’t known about until they pulled over on the
side of the road to make out on their way up to the haunted
house.
The wagon slowly carried the load of customers deep into
the pumpkin patches and cornfields. Beverly looked around,
expecting a dead relative to jump out at any time. Her voice
quivered, “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”
“Scared yet?”
“A little, but it’s fun.”
A few figures jumped out at the wagon, forcing Beverly
34 / Renée Alexis

deeper into Ethan’s arms. He took advantage and calmed her

nerves by moving his hand into her trench coat, sliding it off.
She stopped his hand. “Are you sure this is OK?”
“No one cares about us back here. Look around, if you can
see over all the hay. Those who aren’t making out are listening
to Harry’s stupid ghost story. Come on, face me, and let’s start
cooking.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“Hideous Harry’s is known for couples doing their thing, so
long as they stay quiet. We don’t want to scare the horses, do
we?”
“I don’t care about the horses.” She unsnapped the buttons in
the crotch of his costume, reached in his underwear, and smoothed
an already pulsating erection. “You ready to get singed, boy?”
He shifted on the hay and patted his thighs. “I might smoke
the place out after messing around with you.”
Beverly carefully sat on his lap, positioned his tip above her
opening, and slowly sank onto it. Ethan held her in place as her
hips began a slow grind. She put her trench coat over her shoul-
ders and wrapped it around as his phallus continued to invade
her walls. She rocked up and down, matching the rhythm of the
rickety wagon.
The sex-charged atmosphere invigorated her. Deep, loving,
erotically sexual sounds of nearby couples dressed as wacky
monster and gory ghouls made her inhibitions dissolve. Having
Ethan inside of her set her body on fire. She pressed him to take
her to total satisfaction in the midst of everything happening in
that wagon. It was love, it was sex, it was wild, it was spooky,
chilling and so thrilling. It was everything erotic that the mind
of a mere mortal could fathom. She’d gone from being a but-
toned-down pharmacist to spending Halloween night in the
arms of a devil of a lover.
The deeper he moved into her, the harder she kissed him,
pressing her body into him. She was as quiet, at first, but there
 S TILL THE O NE / 35

was something about having Ethan inside her that made her
want to scream with passion. But she didn’t. Beverly let loose
on Ethan, dominating him, silent but aggressive making him
writhe beneath her.
Ethan saw the expression on her face, loved it, loved the
look of love and total satisfaction. It was his honor to serve and
please, and Ethan did any and all jobs well, especially when it
came to satisfying the only woman who ever mattered to him.
As he watched his delicious Beverly get closer to her per-
sonal heaven, he knew she’d be ready to blow at any minute.
His smooth fingers caressed her lips as he whispered to her,
“Stay quiet, baby.”
“But it’s so damn good,” she whispered back.
He smiled and continued to rock back and forth with her in
slow motion. “You like it slow and scandalous, don’t you?”
“I like it forbidden.”
He pumped a little harder. “Like this?”
“Do it to me.”
His rod ascended deeper inside of her as he increased his
thrusts. He moaned softly, hardly able to breathe as he spilled
cum slowly into her.
Beverly nipped at his lips as the sound of Hideous Harry’s
voice scared those few who were still listening to him. She
smiled and stroked Ethan’s cheeks. “I can’t get enough. Pump
more into me, and let me ride.”
His cock bumped against her G-spot and made contact with
her clit, making it sing hymns. Within seconds, he felt his lover
tighten around him, and circle her hips in smooth, small mo-
tions while she whispered his name. He came again. To hell
with waiting, so long as the sex was the way she wanted it to be.
Aiming to please was his game.
His hot, rigid phallus erupted again, pulling at her sex as he
milked her. Her thrusts finally quieted, and he slowly pulled
out, feeling naked without her nectar keeping him warm. Their
36 / Renée Alexis

lips met again in heated fusion before a large bump in the road
separated them. Ethan took her hand. “Was it good, sugar?” he
murmured. “I mean, was it super-good, out of this world, mag-
nificent—”
“It was a mad fucking minute, quoting your own words.
Outstanding.”
Ethan gave her a proud smile, happy he’d satisfied his sen-
sual playmate. “Wait until we get to the haunted house.”
“I know we’ll have to pay, because I wasn’t concentrating on
any dead relatives.”
“I’ll gladly pay for us to get in, Bev. That way I can get in
again. Know what I mean?”
“All too well.”
“There’s a room in that place that no one knows about but
me. I found it purely by mistake and took sole advantage of it
with someone about two years ago.”
“Was whoever she was worthy of such an erotic experi-
ence?”
“I’m here with you, aren’t I? So what does that say?”
“Everything!” She pulled his hand tighter around her hips
and enjoyed the rest of the hayride.

Twenty minutes later the wagon pulled in front of Muti-

lation Mansion, and Hideous Harry smiled that same disgust-
ing, toothless grin. “I know many of us were too preoccupied
to find my dead relatives, so get your money out and pay
dearly to have the bejeebies scared out of you.” He broke into a
deafening, frightful laugh and tied the horses to the hitch near
the house.
The house was a guided tour, but Ethan had his own plan
once they got to the second floor. To get to Mutilation Mansion,
the crowd had to walk through a dilapidated graveyard. Broken
tombstones, purely fabricated, greeted them, set amid bumpy
grass and dirt. For Beverly, wearing three-inch Playboy Bunny
 S TILL THE O NE / 37

heels with white pompoms at her ankles, that was no joke. But
her only thought was how incredible it felt to have Ethan’s
arms around her.
Once Ethan paid the ten-dollar cover charge at the main en-
trance, Beverly stepped inside and looked around at the crudely
decorated interior. Definitely a great place for a murder, she de-
cided as she held on to Ethan’s arm. Investigators would be too
scared to try and find the body. It was all so classic, with de-
crepit chandeliers barely hanging from roundels; ripped, dark
curtains; pictures of weirdo relatives dating from the eighteenth
century . . . definitely something out of Vincent Price’s House
of Usher. Creepy, but that was the point. Beverly had her limits
when it came to Halloween-type things, but she’d do anything
to be with Ethan.
As the crowd of people ascended the rickety, winding stair-
case, noises were heard: distant screams, windows shattering,
slashing knives. Sound effects from hell. She clutched her lover
with determination.
Ethan looked down at her, smiling at a barely existent pro-
file due to light. “You scared, girl?”
“You could say that.”
“You wanna leave? I could always plan something spooky in
the comfort of your own bed—or mine.”
“It’s just a bunch of rigged contraptions, but they look so
real. No, lets stay. I’m anxious to see exactly what you have
planned for me.”
“Good girl.” Purposely Ethan lagged behind, letting an-
other couple get in front so they could be the last in a long line
of scared yet sexually intoxicated individuals.
Beverly yanked his arm. “Why are we last?”
Instead of saying anything, he found what he was looking
for and quickly opened one of the bedroom doors, pulling her
inside. With her back flush against the door and his lips so
ready to engulf her, he answered. “This is why we’re last. This
38 / Renée Alexis

room is the plan, baby, the plan that will be executed so well by
the time I finish with you.”
Her pliable body relaxed against the hard wood door, weak-
ening to him, weakening to the idea of what he could do to her
in the dark. That’s what she liked about the dark—though its
hue was pitch black, everything was illuminated. As his hands
roamed her feverish body, she realized exactly why Ethan was
in her life again—to give her something no other man had been
able to deliver. He was raw, so was she, and she liked being that
way. There was something about Ethan that brought out the
bona fide animal in her. She needed that after many affairs that
had gone absolutely nowhere. The only thing was that she didn’t
want to fall for him. Beverly wanted her nice, hot, secret affair
and nothing more, especially with the baby brother of her best
friend back in the day. But who was this man making insane
love to her? That snaggle-toothed boy had grown into some-
thing she knew she needed one way or another, one love or an-
other. That was the burden she had to bear.
She relaxed to the idea of wanting him for what he could
give her and what she could give back in return. Thus, feelings
of raged heat engulfed her, making her aid him in his frenzied
plight to disrobe her. She broke from him and looked around,
seeing a room most unlikely to make love in. Skeleton props
shadowed the room, some clothed, some bare and hanging.
Fake cobwebs crowded corners, bloodstained walls added to
the special effects as Beverly’s eyes scanned everything. That
was nothing. The real sight was before her in an outrageous
dick-protection costume, looking sexier than humanly possi-
ble, if one could believe that!
A calmness took over as she felt Ethan delicately squeezing
her breasts until the tips of her darkly hued nipples teased the
garment. He unzipped the back of her outfit with her help and
slid it down her slender frame. And she moaned like never be-
fore, overtaken by pure, unbridled desire for a man she hadn’t a
 S TILL THE O NE / 39

clue she’d ever touch again. But she was, and touching him in
spirals of fury—hungry for the main dish.
That silly mushroom tip of a hat made her smile as she
knocked it from his jet-black hair. His curls were so soft and
silky between her fingers; she loved the feel, needed to feel and
rub soft hair in so many other places. With that in mind more
than breathing itself, she unzipped his costume and slid it from
his taut frame. God, the muscles on him, flexing to every move
he made, slick, hot muscles so ready to be drenched with her
liquid love. Fuck everything! Fuck how she felt about him
being a kid brother to a long-ago friend. Fuck the fact that he
was younger by six years. What she wanted was action. Now.
His costume dropped to the splintered floor with a thud,
and before her stood perfection in a white bodysuit with an
erection bulging to monumental heights. Her jittery hand
smoothed across his tight chest and stomach. “How do we get
this off, Ethan?”
“You really want it off?”
She stared into his eyes, seeing his expression through the
darkness. Shadows of light illuminated him in streaks, and she
held to that serious stare. “I want it off now before my whistle
blows. I’m caving in, weakening.” Her hand slowly traveled,
feathering his flat stomach and inching down to an erection so
livid it wet the white suit in drops of fire.
His back arched to the intense pleasure her fingernails deliv-
ered to his thick scrotum. His shaft squirmed to be free as he
covered her hand, rocking it to a tempo that could only be
Ethan Jacobs. A masculine yet almost trembling voice erupted.
“Once this suit is off, Bev, there is no going back. There’s only
one way to go from here—complete nakedness, complete close-
ness, something so intimate it’s never been written about, sung
about, discussed. Is this what you want?”
“I had it last night.”
“What you had last night was safe, inhibited, clothed. What
40 / Renée Alexis

I’m talking about now is raw, sinful, unbridled, Ms. Stuart, mis-
tress of my soul.”
His words called her. His soliloquy demanded her in every
aspect, from her body wanting to be bare with his, to her mind
saying, Yes, God, yes! So, it was done. “I want it, Ethan. I suffer
because I need it. I want it bare, raw, and every way you can
hand it to me. Don’t make me wait. . . . Where’s the release?”
He reached behind, pulled his zippered back down midway,
and took her hand. “You do the rest.”
She moved into him, found the rest of the zipper, and pulled
until it stopped at his derriere. Firm, hot buns graced her palms,
and she squeezed. The ripeness of his male anatomy brought
that oh-so-familiar flutter across her body, one that shook her,
one that made her quivering sex dance for him. Her eyes sleep-
ily closed from maddening desire, and a single tear rolled down
her satin honey-brown skin.
Ethan tipped her face to his. “I love it when you come. It’s
the most sensuous thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Then make me do it again, only longer, harder, so hard it
takes control of me. I don’t want control, Ethan. I want fire and
ice, every thick inch of it.”
He flipped a switch, and a dim row of electric Halloween
candles barely lit the room. Yes, it was everything he had ex-
pected, everything he had planned and had paid Harry quite
well to make perfectly haunting for them. What was worth the
money and that much more was pleasing the woman he had
with him, watching her dance in utter delight of anticipation.
For seconds only, Beverly scanned the room and saw a bot-
tle of something scrumptious sitting on ice. Next to it was a
blanket already spread and waiting for body-to-body contact
to christen it. Her eyes twinkled as one of her favorite smiles lit
his face. “Why am I not surprised you would do something like
this?”
 S TILL THE O NE / 41

“Because I’m not typical, and you know that. I want it per-
fect but odd. Now disrobe me, and let me get what I need, girl.”
Loaded words. True words. Beverly removed the white
spandex from around his shoulders and slowly exposed him.
With each tug, his body was visible, showing her hints of such
perfection. Glazed bronze was the only term she could use to
describe him. He had been hidden before. In his car the sex was
incredible, but nothing was seen. Now it was. Her mouth wa-
tered at the sight of his bare chest, his dark nipples, the deli-
cious six-pack of his stomach. Her new state of mind was
uncontrollable, and her lips ached for the delivery of feathery
kisses upon him. Yet he stopped her.
“Not yet. Take everything off me.”
“Ethan!”
“Please. I wanna be so raw and naked with you I can barely
take it.”
It was either his words that made her obey or that insatiable
shaft poking its way closer to her. She wanted to believe it was
both, but this time she knew it was a hell of a cock ready, will-
ing, and able to split her in half and ride her into the atmos-
phere of the full moon. She slid the suit down quickly, and he
plunged out.
She’d never seen it before, not truly. The night before was
more feel, feel, feel, letting her imagination bring it to sight. It
made its presence on the hayride, yet, still, sight was the very
damn key!
His sex glistened, and weakness contorted her body, making
her almost drop to her knees. Ethan stopped her. “No. Start at
the top. Work me while I work you.” Their lips met in fusion.
Tongues coiled; lips, wet with desire, burned for one another.
For Ethan, it wasn’t the fact that she was nipping and tugging
on every pleasure principle his body contained, it was simply
the fact that his soul mate was doing it. The minute he saw her
42 / Renée Alexis

lovely face at the tender age of five, he grew up, knew what he
wanted, and set out to get it, hook or crook. There she was.
He removed the rest of her bunny suit and stroked her ma-
jestically perky nipples, rubbing the pads of his thumbs across
them. Her back arched, and he took full advantage. Ethan
dipped into the curve of her body, bracing her back with his
strong hands, and sucked each hot bud until they were slippery
from his saliva. The feel of her hair dancing across his wrists
emitted pheromones he didn’t know he had. Just the feel of her
hair, for Christ’s sake, almost took him to his peak.
The rest of her body needed him. She ached within his grasp,
and it was so evident, due to her skin trembling. His lips left her
breasts and made a streak from her collarbone to her navel, dip-
ping inside the small pucker, and licking. That wasn’t enough
for him; thus his descent continued to the cotton-covered
mound of her sex, kissing before lowering to her slick folds.
Christ! Where am I? Have I finally reached my eternal resting
place? Ethan knew he could live his life between her thighs and
not have another thought about anything else.
His tongue devoured her, and the hammering began again, a
stiff, deep, sweltering orgasm that made her legs weak. Words
caught in her throat as he pulled on her clit, rocking it, nailing
it, making it submit to him. “Ethan! Ethan! Lay me down. I
need to be wrapped around you.”
Quickly he stepped from the rest of the spandex, tossed
away what was left of her Playboy Bunny costume, and lifted
her into his arms. Glee carried him from the door to the blan-
ket. Just looking at her excited face took him where he needed
to be. He didn’t have to hide his emotions from her, for fear of
being called a five-year-old snake in the damn grass, a warthog,
or anything her then-eleven-year-old mind could concoct.
They were now on the same page.
Ethan carefully laid her upon the blanket and instructed her
 S TILL THE O NE / 43

to lay back. “No! I have to taste my man again, get everything

from him I couldn’t get last night due to cramped quarters.”
He stood to his knees and watched as she enjoyed her early
Thanksgiving. The idea of Beverly pulling on his joint, making
it longer, licking the underside until he could barely stand, did
wonders for his mind. He was lucid, free, ready to enjoy the ul-
timate release with the ultimate woman—his Beverly. Finally.
For her, it wasn’t just an erection filling her mouth, it was
this particular erection; its owner was a king, though it had been
a long road for him to achieve that honor. He had definitely
come a long way from being a snotty-nosed little turkey who
made her and Debbie’s life a living hell every summer, winter,
spring, and fall. She had taken the literal fall, and the more she
sucked him into mental intoxication, the more she found her-
self falling for Mr. Unlikely.
Lips almost raw from an erection the height of the sky nib-
bled his tip once more before she looked up at him. “I’m ready
to be personalized!”
“You are, indeed.” He knelt to her, placed her lacy-stockinged
legs around his hips, and leaned over her. The one thing Ethan
had visualized since he was old enough to know what sex was
was looking down at Beverly while making love to her. His
dream was finally coming true. An angel was beneath him, and
nothing could tear his eyes from her, not even sex that could
and would shake the planet.
With his arms on either side of her head, he positioned him-
self parallel and poked at her oozing sex. Marvelous! With each
thrust, his eyes remained on his treasure. With each rock and
gyration, his stare was penetrating.
They climbed their steep hill and rolled down together, non-
stop, in unison. Their waves joined as he rocked her harder and
harder, moving both of them from the blanket, landing in front
of a skeleton in a rocking chair. They didn’t care about that be-
44 / Renée Alexis

cause what they had was unbreakable. If his life had depended
on it, he couldn’t have pulled from her.
Beverly could feel him in her soul. And as he banged merci-
fully into her, crushing her G-spot, clit, and everything willing
to get banged by the famous Ethan Jacobs, the more she was
falling for him. When the intense feeling started spiraling within
her, she grabbed his forearms, dug into them, and screamed.
Her tempered yells mixed with other frightful sounds through-
out the house, but only she and Ethan knew they were from
total satisfaction. Electric satisfaction!
That was all Ethan needed to start his own chain reaction.
He looked down on the beautiful sex-stained face of his lover
and could barely control himself. Venom shot through him like
liquid fire, draining him, making him tremble. Something no
other woman had managed to do for him with such velocity. As
was his saying, “It takes the right woman to make me react the
right way.” Beverly was definitely that woman, had been his
entire life. He had had to find her because nothing in his life,
other than his daughter, was real until Beverly was at his side.
He smiled down into her flushed face, seeing her excitement
over him. Yeah, that was love, and he’d finally found it. His
body tiredly lowered onto hers, and he lay there, happily lis-
tening to a heartbeat he hoped beat for only him now. Whispers
of her soft voice lit him, mellowed him to the sounds only an
angel could possess.
“Ethan, did I please you? Did I really please you the way
you needed to be pleased?”
He smoothed the softness of her bare flesh below his,
strumming her satin breasts with the back of his hands, and
smiled to her words. “It was amazing, just the way I knew it
would be. More amazing than all the daydreams I had of you,
more amazing than the first time I was inside you.” He looked
at her, smiling the most infectious, loving smile he could pos-
sess. “You’ve completed my life, Bev. This is all there is to life,
 S TILL THE O NE / 45

making love to the one woman you know you’re destined to be

with. The idea of you being in my life is what makes me
breathe.”
Her fingers gently massaged his damp scalp, fingering the
feathery curls she used to have to brush so his sister could fin-
ish getting ready for school years ago. It was a drag then, hav-
ing to hold a little monster still while she unsnarled curls from
the night before, but now it was a slice of heaven, a thick slice.
The more she played with his gentle curls, the more she
started falling harder for him, wondering how in the world it
could be that the two came face-to-face and could hardly keep
their bodies from one another. Lives changed; so did the times.
Of all the men she thought she was meant for, he was not the
one—until a day ago. The others were mere unreasonable fac-
similes, something to butter her up for the ultimate in male en-
tertainment . . . but he was so much more than that.
Ethan looked at his watch, dangling from his wrist due to
perspiration, and groaned. “As much as I’d like to stay in this
one place for the rest of my life, we’d better get going before
they close.” Before they clad themselves with silly costumes
again, he reached for the bottle and uncorked it.
Beverly watched as he filled the goblets full of champagne,
not having remembered such a romantic time, even though it
was in a creepy haunted house. That’s what added to the entire
effect, however. It would take a man like Ethan to concoct a
plan this sinfully . . . irresistible!
Willingly she took the filled goblet and joined him in a toast.
“To a woman so unforgettable she makes my head swim.” He
wrapped his arm around hers, and they each sipped from the
other’s goblet. Champagne had never tasted so sweet as it did to
both of them that evening. Sex-tainted lips, satisfied bodies, and
warm hearts accounted for a glow and aroma that ordinary
champagne didn’t house.
Ethan slowly put the bunny costume onto a sumptuous
46 / Renée Alexis

body that hardly needed clothing. Before he covered her breasts

with the frilly bustier, he kissed them, paying exceptional atten-
tion to nipples still so excited from the best lovemaking a
woman had known. As his lips slowly withdrew from the
perky buds, he quickly kissed their tips once more. “I’d better
cover these before Hideous Harry walks in on us and wants his
share of them.”
At that, she helped him with her top. “No way. These be-
long to you only. A man with no teeth just doesn’t do it for
me.”
“That’s makeup. Believe me, he’s got plenty of teeth; sharks
usually do. He’s a corporate lawyer.”
“What? That disgusting bunch of shaggy hair with red eyes
and ripped overalls from hell is a lawyer?”
“A good one, too. How else can he afford to own haunted
houses all over Ohio and Indiana, along with coffee shops and
pumpkin patches?”
“He’s a damn Monopoly board, isn’t he? Does he also own
Boardwalk and Park Place?”
“Almost. He’s a cool dude, though.”
He pulled her to her feet, and they both finished attaching
his condom outfit, making sure it fit in all the right places—
snap seat, mushroomed hat, and all.
They both ran from the room in hysterics over just how
simply disgusting they both looked after putting on wrinkled
suits, smelling like flaming-hot sex. What stopped them in their
tracks was Hideous Harry leaning against a rail in front of their
door. His toothless grin did nothing to help calm their hyster-
ics. Ethan had to basically kiss Beverly to subdue her hysteria
over how stupid Harry actually looked. Rich! Ha, what a
kicker! Only her thoughts could temporarily stop the gaity of
the evening.
Ethan grabbed his old buddy. “Harry, this is the lady you
 S TILL THE O NE / 47

have been hearing about for years. Beverly Stuart. Bev, this is
my college buddy, though usually he looks better than this.”
The scarecrow of a man was eager to take her hand and fi-
nally meet the only woman who made Ethan smile from the
mere mention of her name. “The wonderful Ms. Beverly! It’s an
honor to meet you. You sure make this man’s life, you know
that?”
Shy for the first time over a compliment. “And I’m glad to
meet the owner of this . . . for lack of better words . . . fine
establishment. It was awfully sweet of you to allow us to oc-
cupy—and I say the word loosely—one of your rooms for so
long.”
“Anything for my man Ethan. He’s a good guy. He’ll make
you happy.”
Beverly slowly released Harry’s hand. “He already has.”
Ethan stepped in, recovering what was to be his for the rest
of his life. “I’d better get this little lady home so she can get her
rest. Lots of prescriptions to fill in the morning. I told him how
smart you are, Bev, owning pharmacies and all.”
“Keep her happy, then,” Harry added, “or she’ll give you
someone’s Viagra medicine in a cup of coffee.”
As they walked down the winding staircase, Ethan looked
back at Harry and grinned a sly grin. “Don’t think I need the
Viagra; this chick keeps me pumping well enough.”
Beverly pinched him over the comment. “Don’t tell him
that.”
“He can see it on my face anyway.” He latched on to her
hand, and they walked the dark road back to his car.
At a nearby cider café, Ethan bought her a glittering terra-
cotta pumpkin with a whimsical face, and they sat at a table sip-
ping piping-hot cider with cinnamon sticks and doughnuts.
Beverly looked around the spooky decorated place and smiled.
“This place even looks like something Hideous Harry would
48 / Renée Alexis

own. It’s cute, very cute, quaint. How can something so out in
the middle of nowhere be so popular?”
“Like I said, Hideous Harry is a lawyer. He has contacts,
helps a lot of people who are more than happy to get the news
around town about his Halloween extravaganzas. I’m one of
them.”
“What have you done?”
“I decorate my dealership for the occasion and pass out
fliers to his haunted houses. Friends do that.”
“Is that why Harry gave you back your admission after
leaving Mutilation Mansion?”
“Exactly, but he didn’t have to. I always have a good time at
his places.” He took her hand and kissed it. “So, Ms. Playboy
Bunny, did you have a good time as well?”
She hazily looked up to the ghost decorations dangling from
the ceiling and then back to him. “It was nothing short of
amazing. I’ve never had a Halloween like this before. Usually I
just hand out candy, pop popcorn, and watch a movie with
some of my girlfriends. Nothing to write home about. I look
forward to watching horror movies, even if I’m alone. The last
few years in Pasadena, I was definitely alone, having thrown
out Tony.”
“I just can’t get with that. Didn’t he know he had the best
thing a man could have? He did me a favor, though, and took a
hike so I could move right in. Do you think that’s possible, on
a permanent basis? You wouldn’t have to watch House on
Haunted Hill by yourself and get scared. I’d be there with you,
every inch of the mile, and I mean every word of that, Beverly.”
He sat back in his chair, staring at her, waiting for an answer.
“So, are you and I possible?”
“I’d love to say yes, but I’m not as easygoing as you may
think.”
“I know you’re not, and that’s what I like. You’ve always
 S TILL THE O NE / 49

been your own woman, even as a girl. You made me do what

you wanted me to do, and I’m still doing that.” He rubbed her
hand against his cheek. “Bev, don’t you know I’d do anything
for you, be anything you want me to be? I just want you in my
life. I don’t want to be a casual bystander when it comes to
you.”
“You know you’re more than that to me, Ethan. In a way
you always have been. You made me pay attention to you—al-
ways did, and you eventually got what you wanted from me.”
“Do I still have it?”
“I think so, but, Ethan, I’ve been alone for a while and I
needed to be. My life hasn’t been easy with men, and I’m, well,
a little skittish.”
“I’d never hurt you, sweetheart.”
“I know that, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Do you think you would?”
“Not intentionally. I just don’t want you to feel you have
something that may not really be there until I want it to be. In
other words, I don’t want to hold you back from loving some-
one else.”
“I don’t want anyone else. I’ve waited this long, and I’ll wait
until you’re ready. I know you care about me. You’re not the
type to waste your time on someone if you aren’t interested.”
“This is true. I do care about you, Ethan—a lot. That’s why
I couldn’t bear it if I did anything to hurt you. My feelings
about everything these days are so scattered my head is still
spinning.”
“The only thing you could do to hurt me is keep me out of
your life. Do you want that?”
“You’ve always been a part of me since I was eleven years
old. Now that I know this, Ethan, I know I want you around,
but can we take things slowly?”
“As slow as you want.”
50 / Renée Alexis

“I know that’s stupid of me to want, because I’ve practically

gone hog wild over you, but maybe slower would be better.
Can you deal with that?”
“Beverly, I want anything I can get from you, and I want to
give you anything you want and need. I’m the one that’s grate-
ful for even sharing five minutes with you.” He moved his chair
next to hers and briefly kissed her lips. “I want Beverly, and I
want her for the long haul, problems or no problems. We’re all
afflicted with a past. I want to be the one to prove to you that
not all men are stupid and willing to act like an ass to the one
woman they need to prove everything to.”
“You won’t have to prove a thing, Ethan. But there is one
thing I need you to answer.”
“Anything. Just ask.”
She looked at him with a smile in her eyes. “Tell me the
truth. Were you the one who took my Barbie hair-design doll
and put a GI Joe on top of her, hugging her? Your sister and I
found it under some blankets in your parents’ basement.”
He held his hands in the air as if under arrest. “True, I did
that, and I remember doing it. Even back then, to me that was
us.”
She tightened her hand around his, teasing. “So to you I’m a
Barbie head with a bouffant hairdo.”
“No, but you have the ‘doll’ part down to a science.”
Nothing could stop her from leaning and kissing lips warm
enough to let go of all her inhibitions and make him her live-in
lover from that point on. He definitely was the lover, but her
inhibitions were determined to linger. She pulled away from his
lips and sipped more of her hot cider. “Well, Mr. GI Joe, since
you’re willing to take it slow with me, why not agree to an-
other date? Have Thanksgiving dinner with me. I’m cooking
for my family because my sister Ruby is going to be out of
town. She usually makes most of the dinner, but I can cook
also.”
 S TILL THE O NE / 51

“I know you can, girl.”

“Silly boy, that’s not what I mean. Mom would love to see
you.”
“Hopefully we’ll have our next date way before Thanks-
giving, but I actually had something else in mind. Debbie always
invites me to Nevada for Thanksgiving, sometimes Christmas.
Why not come with me? You can see Debbie that way.”
There was that panicky feeling again. The kind that awak-
ened the rest of her inhibitions, the ones that said, Do you really
want his family to see you dating the kid brother that always
got on your nerves, the kid brother that’s a good six years
younger? Wouldn’t Debbie just stab you right in your back for
that? She’d want to know about your past lives with men, and
she would find that out, one way or another. She doesn’t want
that for her only brother. No, keep him a secret, and make him
keep you one. That terrible, terrible inner voice, that was so
right most of the time, wouldn’t leave her alone.
His voice brought her back to reality. “You zoned out on
me.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, and you didn’t answer me. Come with me to Nevada,
see Debbie for the first time in years, meet all those kids they
have.”
“I don’t know. Let me think about it.”
“What’s there to think about? I know Debbie wants to see
you. Her face lights up when I mention you.”
“You haven’t told her about us already, have you?”
That concerned him, made him answer slowly. “No, but I’d
like to. Are you reluctant about that?”
“What would she think—”
“About me dating one of her girlfriends? She’d like it, espe-
cially if she knew it was you.”
“She might think otherwise.”
“She wants me happy, and you make me happy. She saw
52 / Renée Alexis

how miserable I was with Elaine. I could never be that with

you.” He continued eyeing her, hating to ask the next question,
but was compelled to. Concern showed in his voice as well.
“Bev, are you embarrassed about liking me?”
“Ethan! No, not at all.”
“Then why is that gloomy look on that perfect face of
yours?”
“I just don’t know what people would think about us. After
all, we have a past.”
“That was years ago, and we were both kids. Besides, fuck
everyone else, this is our life, not theirs—if you want one with
me.”
“I do. I just don’t want to cause you any turmoil.”
“Turmoil for me is not being with you. We can take it slow,
Bev, like I said. I’m so willing to do anything to be with you.
Please believe me.”
“I do believe you, and you know I’m crazy about you.”
A smile lit his incredibly handsome face. “I do know that,
and I’m ecstatic about that, but do me one favor, think about
Thanksgiving. I want you to be with me. I just want to share
my happiness over you with the family. They already love you.
If not, Mom wouldn’t have had you over for dinner three out
of seven nights a week.”
“Yeah, Debbie and I practically ODed over being constantly
in one another’s faces.”
“Now you know how I feel about you. Hell, I was the one
who set your plate setting. Debbie and I used to fight over
doing that.”
“Really?”
He took her hand. “Come on, let’s get outta Dodge and take
a slow ride home. I know you’re tired.”
“A little, but I had an amazing time.”
“Then my job is done. I can rest my cape for the evening.”
“You’re not done, superhero. Just keep satisfying me.”
 S TILL THE O NE / 53

* * *
An hour later, they pulled to the front of Beverly’s house,
and he walked her to the door. He walked her inside and pulled
her into him, delivering the best good-night kiss a girl could
ever ask for. It was hard pulling away from Ethan Jacobs, the
man who gave her a Halloween she’d never forget. “You’d bet-
ter get going if you plan on taking your daughter that filled
pumpkin. She’ll enjoy seeing that the minute she steps out of
bed.”
“Yeah, I’d better leave, but it would be so easy to spend the
night here with you.”
“Soon, real soon.”
Ethan kissed the tip of her nose. “I sure hope so. Um, by the
way, after work I’d like to take you to dinner and then show
you my house. We could take a moonlight stroll after we get
back. It’s supposed to be warm again tomorrow night. Besides,
I love this tree-lined street. It would be perfect. Can we do
that?”
“I’d love that. Say, six?”
“You’re on, baby, and thank you for accompanying me to
Hideous Harry’s. It was a blast!” He kissed her again and then
was off.
Beverly watched as his car drove out of sight, and then she
retired to her bedroom to undress. As she slid into bed, sounds
of “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” on the television
lulled her. As she drifted to sleep, she thought about being with
Ethan on Thanksgiving, wanted to be with him all the time
now, but the same old questions continued to loom heavily
over her head, What would they think of me? Would they hate
me for loving a man that much younger than I am? Am I even
ready for love? What to do, what to do?

All day at work, Beverly’s mind was on one thing: Ethan

Jacobs. Soon after having the most delicious thoughts of him,
54 / Renée Alexis

her next set of boggling mind tricks made themselves apparent:

what his family would think of her. To her, what people
thought was very important, despite the hard-shell personality
she’d become accustomed to, having dealt with the world alone
for so long. This situation was not the world, however, it was
her world in which suddenly she didn’t know what to do or
how to act. With just Ethan, life was easy; their heads were in
all the right places—along with their hearts. When it came to
including others, however, that was the tricky part.
As had become their custom over the past two and a half
weeks, that night they had dinner together and took in a good
stroll somewhere, making every minute of the unseasonable
weather last for as long as possible—making out like banshees
in the park. The evening was still so young, and Ethan, as usual,
hadn’t had his fill of her. His hand slipped around hers. “What’s
up for the rest of the evening?”
“Well, since it is a weekend in which I don’t make medica-
tion deliveries to seniors, I can stay up for as long as I wish.”
“You sure can, but doing what?”
“How about you let me into the rest of your life, Ethan?”
“You are in my life. You’re as in to me as any woman could
ever get.”
“Then let’s take it further. Let me see your inner workings,
what gets you cranked, what drives you.”
“I’m looking at what does that, darling.”
“What I meant was, take me to your dealership. Let me see
the other less romantic side of Ethan Jacobs. I saw your par-
ents, your daughter, other parts of you, but not this. I want it
all.”
“You really want to see where I get buried under paper-
work, huh?”
“Sure, that’s a part of you.”
“Anything Beverly Stuart wants, she gets. I’ll show you the
new one.”
 S TILL THE O NE / 55

“There’s more than the Lexus and BMW dealerships?”

“I own three, just like you. A conglomerate!”
She delicately tapped on his forehead. “I knew brains would
one day inhabit that head of yours—once you got out of the sex
asylum.”
“Sex asylum! Girl, after being with you, I know I need to be
in a place like that. An ounce of you isn’t enough, but what is
enough when it comes to you?”
Within minutes they pulled in front of Jacobs’ on Fifth, and
Beverly smiled. “This place is yours? I pass this place two days
a week getting to my other pharmacy.”
“Wasn’t the name a dead giveaway?”
“Not really. I thought about Debbie once or twice when I
first saw your last name scrawled across the front of the build-
ing, but I didn’t really connect anything. I know Debbie and
your parents are so proud of you. Your mother’s face lights up
with nothing but smiles when she speaks of you.”
“Too bad she wasn’t smiling back when she used to whip my
ass over some stupid thing I had done.”
“A woman can’t smile that often, Ethan.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Are you trying to say some-
thing, Ms. Stuart?”
Her nose nuzzled his. “Yeah, that I’m now the contented
one who whips that delicious ass of yours.”
“And you do it so damn well. The really good thing is, Mom
thinks we are a good match.”
“We are.”
“Then come with me to Nevada, and let’s show Debbie how
good we are together.”
“Ethannn.”
“I know I promised not to bring that up again and to let you
make up your own mind about it, but, baby, I just want you
with me. I want to show people what kind of a man you have
56 / Renée Alexis

made me in almost three short weeks. Will you at least keep

thinking about it?”
“I promise.”
“Good enough for now.” He got out and opened her car
door. “Come on, let me show you the jewel of the Nile . . .
well, at least the jewel of Fifth Street, my third dream come
true.”
“What was your second?”
“My BMW dealership.”
“And the first?”
“I think you know the answer to that. You, and my daugh-
ter.”
“You should put her first, Ethan.”
“OK, you both share first place. Satisfied?”
She ran her hand up and down his arm. “Absolutely.”
The showroom was gorgeous, decorated with subtle au-
tumn decorations. But the best decoration was a room filled
with every Mercedes model a salivating woman could dream of.
Immediately Beverly walked to a lapis-blue M-Class and
smoothed her hand across the hood. “Where in the world did
you get the clout to actually be the owner of a Mercedes dealer-
ship? I thought you specialized in Lexuses and BMWs.”
He moved in behind her, nibbling her earlobe. “Variety is
the spice of life. Don’t you know that?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I do know that, and
the more I’m around you, the more I find that out.”
“Then I’m pleasing to your senses?”
“You’re pleasing to every inch of my being. You nourish me,
Mr. Ethan, man of my wildest dreams, and I do mean wildest!”
He delivered a faint kiss on her full lips. “Well, then, Ms.
Stuart, I’ve got more pleasing to do.” He motioned to the
showroom. “Pick one.”
A quaint smile crossed her puzzled face. “What?”
“Go on, pick one. Let’s have some fun here.”
 S TILL THE O NE / 57

“You’re . . . telling me to . . . pick a Mercedes. This is not

‘Wheel of Fortune,’ and I’m certainly not Vanna White, ready,
willing, and able to turn over letters for a million dollars a
year.”
“I do resemble Alex Trebek about the eyes, don’t you
think?”
“Not at all. Now what do you mean, ‘pick a car,’ Ethan?”
“Exactly that. Point one out, and let’s get busy.”
“You can’t be serious! You want to make out in a car you
would sell to someone?”
“Baby, the car can be cleaned, although if a man bought it
and got one whiff of your succulent aroma inside it, I’d have to
bottle your fragrance and sell it along with the car. I’d make a
mint! Pick the car, Bev.”
He watched as she walked about the showroom, stopping
briefly at different models and then moving on reluctantly.
Finally she stopped at a red two-door model. “This one! It’s
luxurious, roomy in the back, and the new-car aroma is awfully
sultry. Makes a woman simply want to strip in front of it, with
a sexy-ass man to boot! All the ingredients are here.”
Ethan took the keys from behind the counter and walked to
her as he undid his tie. He moved into her arms. “I knew you’d
pick the red one.”
“How?”
“It looks like you—your style, flashy, and sexy beyond the
imagination.” He clicked the locks and held open the back
door. “Your chariot awaits.”
Beverly slid in and was taken by the plush leather and new-
car smell. Her hands slid across the tight new leather, remind-
ing her of how her lover felt against her skin, like smooth satin,
flawless. “This is so beautiful. I’ve never been in a Benz before.
A BMW, yes, but never something this plush.”
“Then get prepared for a real ride.” He slid her onto his lap.
“Does this remind you of the night we met?”
58 / Renée Alexis

“Yeah, let’s relive it together. I relive it enough on my own.”

His voice lowered to a seductive drawl, moaning against her
ear. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”
Her lips feverishly brushed his, her voice hushed with antic-
ipation. “No.” Her hunger for him took over, wanting, need-
ing, dying to mate with him in any way possible. She nipped his
lips feverishly, taking in his aroma, letting her senses drive her
wilder than wild. He was delicious, more so than a man had
ever been. This awesome entity controlled her heart, mind, and
body with just one kiss. One thing was now a proven point in
her mind: that little snotty-nosed boys had so much potential—
and potential filled her arms with such a strong force. He was
amazing; he was . . . Ethan, and there was no way to success-
fully hide her love from him.
As her fingers played in his hair, her lips moved to his neck,
gently licking and sucking his Adam’s apple, feeling his throat
as it bobbed in ecstasy. He smelled so good, so much like a
man, so natural, so intoxicating. What made the heavens open
up and thrust him upon her once again? Fate? Yes, fate. They
were meant to be there, in that time and place, in this life!
Her lips mellowed in the crook of his neck as he slid down
his zipper. His low, lingering voice moaned in her ear. “Be with
me, Bev. Be with me in every way a woman can be with a
man—totally, freely.” His arms wrapped tight around her slim
hips. “I love you so much. Don’t let anything get in the way of
this incredible love I have for you—the love I know you have
for me. I can feel it in your body. Don’t stop it. Don’t be
ashamed to be with me.”
She slowly raised her head to his words, staring unbeliev-
ably into his dark eyes. “Is that what you think, Ethan? You
think I’m ashamed of you around Debbie?”
“I didn’t mention Debbie. You did. I don’t want to embar-
rass you around anyone. You didn’t feel that way around my
 S TILL THE O NE / 59

parents the other day. Why Debbie? I know it’s her you’re ap-
prehensive about.”
He was so right. What the hell was she thinking? Debbie
was not the god of accountants who could cancel her out if her
numbers didn’t exactly match Ethan’s. Debbie was just another
woman. Then why was Debbie still so important to Beverly
after sixteen years?
“Be—because Debbie had the power back then to make or
break me. Everything we did was because she wanted to do it.”
“But you were the stronger one. You were all she talked
about, all I talked about. She wanted to be you but loved you
too much to be jealous of you. She told me that one day about
ten years ago. And, frankly speaking, you were the beautiful
one. Even as a child you were outstanding, with long cinnamon
hair, honey-colored skin, and shapely—quite shapely, for your
age. She wanted to look like you but had to suffice with being
your friend and staying in control.”
“Really? Was that it?”
“Afraid so.”
“She was beautiful, too.”
“But not like you. Her looks came from my father’s side. I
got Mom’s, with the light brown skin. She envied you; I wanted
to make love to you—whatever I thought love was back then.
Beyond that, Beverly, I’m still in love with you, and that’s all I
care about. I know what it is now and know how to take care of
it, treat it right.” He took her hand, kissed it. “I love you way
beyond the physical, way beyond how much you make me feel
like a man when I’m inside you. When I hear your voice, I’m
that man again whether we’re touching or not. Love me back,
please.”
“I do love you, Ethan.”
“Show me. Show me now, and show me in three days when
I leave for Nevada.”
60 / Renée Alexis

At that moment in time, the now was of utmost importance.

She had to show him she could conquer Debbie. But dealing
with Nevada was still something different and something she
would think about later . . . much later.
She raised above him as he removed his erection from his
pants. Anticipation welled within her body, because each time
they made love, it was different, better. The fact that she loved
him was the special part, the part that made everything fit to-
gether.
As she lowered her body onto his, that incredible pressure
filled her, the type of pressure that came from a shaft that was
beyond all others. She rocked with him, to him, on top of him,
spinning her wheels to total ecstasy. Nothing mattered but that
moment with a loving man in her arms. Debbie, Thanksgiving,
her exes—all were a blur, as everything was when it came to
Ethan making love to her. That’s what it was—love, uncondi-
tional love that was proven to her within a matter of three
weeks. It was young but strong.
She climaxed for the third time as Ethan teased her nipples
with tongue swirls, wetting her breasts, wetting her sex as he
pumped ferociously inside her. When Ethan reared back and
squirmed within her arms, his juices billowed out, saturating
her, staining her, marking her for life. He was it, the real one,
the master of her soul, and she had to find a way within her fear
of life to please him in every possible way.
Beverly lay against his wet chest, stroking his muscles, feel-
ing his still-hard shaft invading her. She was at peace, mind and
body. They kissed again, and then she slid to the other seat
quickly just to get a glimpse of him. There was nothing more
attractive to her than Ethan’s erection. It was exciting, eroge-
nous, and she had to put her hands on it. Her quick, hard
strokes made him see stars; so did she as he came again. The feel
of his nectar on her hands was what made her. The salty taste of
the underside of his shaft was what completed her. She was
 S TILL THE O NE / 61

Ethan, and he was her. That was the bottom line to it, and noth-
ing more.
After the dealership was locked, the car ready to be sent to
the car wash the following morning, and a quiet ride home, he
made sure her coat was fastened and her fur scarf tucked snugly
around her neck before opening her car door. “Can’t have my
baby getting cold out here.”
“Am I still your baby even though I haven’t given you an
answer to Nevada?”
“You’ll always be my baby. I’d like it if you felt freer with
me, but with you, I’d be glad to accept the crumbs if I had to.”
He slipped his arm around her. “Beverly, I’d be glad to be your
slave. I want you in any possible way I can get you. If you want
me to simply be your Ohio man, us sharing our little world,
that’ll be fine. If you want to share me with the family, mine
and yours, that’s great, too. Just let me be in your life for the
rest of our lives.”
His words were so touching she couldn’t help but stroke his
cheek. “I’ve never understood love like that, because I’ve never
had it. My ex-husband was a jerk, my past lovers selfish. All
I’ve truly had was, well . . . me.”
“How does it feel, now that you have a man who really
loves you for everything you are?”
“Like silk and diamonds wrapped around a bed of pearls.”
“That good?”
“That good, Ethan.”
“I can give you that, plus more.”
“I have what I want.” They kissed tenderly yet heatedly—
velvety smooth. Ethan pulled away slowly, shaking his head.
“I’d better get you in the house before I force you to have sex
in a car again.”
“It wasn’t hard to convince me before. What makes you
think it would be this time?”
“Just the same, we’d better go. I’ve got a long day ahead of
62 / Renée Alexis

me tomorrow. By the way, I have to take Danny to a birthday

party by noon. Care to come along?”
“Can’t. Reports to complete even though I’m not making
deliveries tomorrow. You know how it is when you own your
own business. It’s more work than ever before.”
“Amen to that.”
As they walked to her house, they pulled their coats closer
together due to stronger mid–November winds. When they
stopped at the door, Ethan patiently watched her unlock the
door and then took her face in his hands for the last time that
evening. “I love you, Beverly, just know that no matter what. I
leave in three days for Nevada. Let me know something before
then. Three days, baby. Can you do that for me?”
A slow, “Yes.”
Ethan kissed her cool cheeks one last time and then was off.
As he drove off, he pushed number four on his CD player, and,
automatically, his main man, James Brown, blasted the speakers
loud and clear with, “I Guess I’ll Have To Cry, Cry, Cry.” It
was the first time he didn’t want a James Brown song to remind
him of Beverly. He didn’t want to cry, yet leaving her house
each night without the promise of a lasting love made him cry
inside. Still he listened to the song as he left her block to travel
the long, cold night roads to his empty home.

With her back pressed against her front door, Beverly’s heart
felt heavy, preventing her from walking toward her bedroom.
That was the one place that reminded her of Ethan. He’d con-
quered her there, too, on an earlier chilly November night. It
would be colder that night as well . . . colder than most but for
all the wrong reasons.
In bed, there was no Charlie Brown music to lull her to sleep,
there were only thoughts of Ethan . . . and of Debbie. That was
the real nemesis. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember hav-
 S TILL THE O NE / 63

ing been intimidated by Debbie before, or by anyone, for that

matter. They were the best of friends until Debbie got married.
They parted, but, apparently, the feelings still lasted for Beverly.
Now the only problem was how Debbie would accept her.
Years ago, Beverly’s last fear was dating her best friend’s baby
brother—a brother who definitely was no longer a baby. Would
she be able to make that final step to prove that nothing was
more important than her love for him? She always hated tricky
questions.

Thanksgiving eve, and Beverly was helping her mother

make dressing for the turkey. Plenty of thought had been given
to the Nevada trip, yet not one bag had been packed. Her mind
had stayed constantly on Ethan since the day he had left. She
knew the minute, hour, and second his plane left Hopkins
International Airport. Last time she saw him he was gloomy
over the fact that she wasn’t joining him for the big family cele-
bration but was making the best of it for her sake. Everything
he did was always for her, even when he was a child, and Beverly
knew that. Was it wasted sentiment? Not really, more like fear
over what others expected of her. It still haunted her way be-
yond any haunted house ever could—even Hideous Harry’s.
Once her family’s pre–Thanksgiving celebrating was over
and all questions about Ethan answered, she slowly walked to
her car. The snowy November sky reminded her of what she
could be having, a nice, warm evening by the fireplace with the
love of her life in her arms. Instead she cranked a cold Cadillac
and drove home listening to a station that played continuous
Christmas songs. What awaited her at home: a cold bed and an
empty suitcase longing for a lightweight Christmas dress and
an elegant nightgown for him to remove from her. That, unfor-
tunately, wasn’t about to happen, and it would be a long night,
simply due to her inhibitions.
64 / Renée Alexis

* * *
Playing in the background on his sister’s new audio system
was his favorite Christmas song, Bing Crosby’s “Jingle Bells,”
with the Andrews Sisters. It had always put him in good spirits
in the past, but this time was different. There was no joy on
Ethan’s face even though he was sitting at a table fit for a king.
His queen hadn’t shown up, and that canceled out all his fun on
the spot.
He watched as Debbie and her husband finished cooking all
the holiday favorites while other relatives ran behind loads of
children. Then there were others sitting around the fireplace
sipping spiked eggnog. Certainly it was too warm in Nevada to
have an actual fire, but the effect was what the guests were
striving for. All of that did nothing for Ethan. What gave him a
little glee was watching Danica playing with her cousins. God
only knew Debbie and Ward had enough children for a nursery
school. That sure kept Danica busy while her father continued
to sulk in front of roasted turkey and cranberry sauce.
Debbie and Ward walked in with the rest of the fixings and
placed them where they needed to be. Ward saw the expression
on Ethan’s face and nudged his wife, whispering. “What’s with
him?”
“His pilot light is out.”
“What?”
“I told you he fell for an old buddy of mine in Cleveland,
and she chose not to show up here tonight. He’s in the dumps.”
Ward quickly kissed his elegantly clad wife. “I’d be in the
dumps if my lover wasn’t with me on Thanksgiving.”
“That statement had better be about me.” She teased him
with a quick kiss and resumed decorating her table for a Thanks-
giving not soon to be forgotten.
Ethan saw the exchange between his very happy sister and
Ward, wishing he had fallen for someone willing to show him
 S TILL THE O NE / 65

love in the open instead of in the privacy and safety of her own
home—or in his Lexus, for that matter.
Debbie placed a cup of eggnog before him and sat at his side.
“Ethan, you’re going to have to get over the fact that she’s a no-
show. I know that’s hard, but—”
“You don’t know how hard. You’ve had Ward constantly
for over fourteen years. You don’t know what it’s like to lay in
a cold bed while your warm heart beats for a distant lover.”
“You really fell hard, didn’t you?”
He sighed and toyed with his glass. “I fell hard for her over
twenty years ago.”
“She was beautiful and a lot of fun. Can’t blame you.”
“She still is.” That brought a semismile to his face. Just one
remembrance of how Beverly’s smile lit any room she was in lit
his fire.
“Are you going to be OK?”
“Yeah, once I get back to Cleveland. I should probably leave
late tonight.”
“You really miss her, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Funny thing, I’ve only had her back in my life for a
little more than three weeks, but, Debbie, she’s the one, even
though she’s too shy to be seen around me in front of you. She’s
the one who brings out the wildness in me, though. I’m primal
when I’m around her, always have been.”
“You were born primal. Hit the scene scratching and claw-
ing at everything.” She poked at him playfully. “Another thing:
you always stunk! You cried, and you stunk—two things you
were good at.”
“Come on, Deb, I’m serious. I’m in the dumps, and you’re
dogging me.”
“I’m only trying to brighten my brother’s spirits. Is that so
wrong to want to do?”
66 / Renée Alexis

“I guess not.” He took her hand. “Thanks, sis. Wish it was

working, though.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “It will, eventually. At least
hang around for dinner. Uncle Craig and Aunt Emma are due
to show up in about ten minutes.”
“I’m not leaving, not yet. You haven’t visited with your
niece nearly long enough. All Danica talks about is her Aunt
Debbie.”
“That’s what five-year-olds do. I remember someone you
talked about constantly when you were five.”
“Yeah, who?”
“Someone you still talk about, and when you do, your en-
tire face lights up like a Christmas wreath.”
He got the message, but that wasn’t helping his cause. The
thing he needed to do was not think about Beverly. Yet the only
thing on his mind was getting back to her and playing by her
rules.
As he sat there tinkering with his drink, he thought about
the good times she was probably having with her family, prob-
ably not even thinking about him. His heart shifted in his chest.
Minutes later, when Debbie decided not to wait for Uncle
Craig and his overtly slow wife (slow dressing and slow-witted),
and to start the Thanksgiving prayer, his mind was still on being
with Beverly.
Minutes into the dinner, the front bell rang, and Debbie
jumped up to answer it. After all, Uncle Craig had the green-
bean casserole. Ethan was contented to sit there and play with
his food while pretending to be interested in his cousin Phil’s
boring conversation on sprocket manufacturing. It made him
feel like George Jetson’s boy, Elroy.
He and everyone else jumped when he heard Debbie shriek
with high-pitched laughter. Everyone around the table looked
at each other as Ward went to see about his wife. Again Ethan
 S TILL THE O NE / 67

returned to his food and made sure Danica wasn’t throwing

hers.
His mind had begun to play tricks on him, hearing Beverly’s
distinctive laugh. In actuality he knew she was celebrating with
her family back in Cleveland, probably seeing him as a mere
thought that would no doubt return to reality days later. What
made him look up was seeing his sister return to the room smil-
ing from ear to ear saying, “Everyone! Look!”
His only thought: Damn! Is the bean casserole good enough
to have its own introduction?
Debbie cast her arm aside and made a path for a queen.
Beverly steped inside with her eyes dead set on Ethan. Her red
coat gapped open to reveal a navy-blue, sequined dress and
matching silver jewelry. Her hair was in a loose bun with
ringlets of curls circling her face.
Ethan stood in a trance, not believing what he was seeing.
He almost spilled the eggnog as Debbie spoke. “Don’t just
stand there like a zombie, though that is what you do best. Get
your behind over here, and introduce your lady.”
The world disappeared and left Beverly in its place. With a
spring to his step, he walked across the room, took Beverly im-
mediately into his arms, and kissed her lavishly in front of
everyone. Debbie had to clear her throat to get their attention.
After all, they were embarrassing the guests. The children were
staring and laughing; the older family members were oohing
and aahing, saying things like, “Oh, isn’t that just sweet. That
boy deserves to be loved the right way after what that other girl
did to him.” Ethan heard nothing but the sounds of his lips
making love to hers.
Beverly forgot her embarrassment and took Ethan for all he
had, entertaining an audience of people she had never seen be-
fore, other than Debbie and their parents. She didn’t care, ei-
ther. The world was gone. There was no roomful of people
68 / Renée Alexis

with faces full of turkey and any inebriating drink they could
get their hands on. No, there was just Ethan and the fact that
she overcame fear of herself to actually leave her family and
join him.
Debbie nudged the kissing couple. “You guys!!”
Both Ethan and Bev slowly parted and smiled a sheepish
smile. Silence was broken as he wrapped his arm around her
and introduced her. “Everyone, this is my lady, Ms. Beverly
Nicole Stuart.”
After everyone said their hellos, Beverly smiled and spoke
to the clan of happy faces dotted with whiskey and cranberry
sauce. The only things missing on their faces were the beans
that had yet to arrive.
Debbie broke in. “She’s also my old buddy from the
Cleveland days. Ethan fell in love with her when he was five.”
Debbie loved embarrassing him, but at that point, he didn’t
care. He had every holiday wrapped up in one, and it was wear-
ing a blue dress for him to peal off later that night.
Before the excited chatter subsided, he whisked Beverly into
the living room, pulling her into him before she could speak.
The way her body felt crushed next to his was unbelievable.
His lips nibbled hers, his tongue danced within her, awakening
crevices even she thought were completely sealed due to lack of
her lover. His mind danced in whirlwinds of passion as he held
her for dear life. His heated chest felt her hardened nipples gra-
ciously greeting him. In other words, he wallowed in the mere
thought of her.
Slowly he broke the kiss and stared at Beverly with stars in
his eyes. Before him stood a lover he thought was going to stay
with her family for Thanksgiving dinner, and dance to golden
oldies with her sisters. His lips parted, words cracked with
emotion. “Unbelievable!”
“So, are you pleasantly surprised?”
“Baby, ‘pleasantly surprised’ isn’t exactly the physical re-
 S TILL THE O NE / 69

sponse I had in mind. Look at the front of my pants, and tell me

if I’m excited over seeing you.”
“I don’t have to look at your pants for that. I can see it in
your eyes.” Her hand caressed his cheek smoothly and seduc-
tively. “I’ve never had a man react to me like this. No one has
ever lit up like the Fourth of July over me.”
“Is that what you love about me, the way I react when
you’re around?”
“What I love about you is . . . you! For the first time in my
life, I wasn’t comfortable in my own house, knowing I should
be here with you.”
“What about your family?”
“They helped me pack.”
“Smart people, but how . . . when . . .”
“I took the red eye at ten thirty last night, landed here at two
this morning, grabbed a motel room, and got some sleep. After
all, I knew I’d need energy to be with you because, boy, you
wipe me out!”
“Why didn’t you call me? I’d have gladly met you any-
where.”
“I know that, Ethan, but I wanted to surprise you, let you
know in my way that it was time to stop living in the past and
face the world. Let the world see how much I love you.”
He pulled her warm, beautiful body into his again, his face
barely inches from hers, smiling the usual Ethan Jacobs sensual
smile. “And you do love me, don’t you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Bevvvv?”
“Yes! Yes, Ethan, I’m in love with you, and it feels so
unimaginable.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “You know, on television and
in books it always seems like it takes forever to fall in love. Not
for me, though. I’ve been in love all my life.”
“One thing puzzles me about that. I can’t remember doing
70 / Renée Alexis

anything to make you love me. I used to hit you, trip you, push
you down, jump out of corners to scare you, and . . .”
“Beverly, you were being you, and that’s what did it. You
were a child, too.” He wrapped his arms tighter around her
hips. “I’ve always liked the rough-and-tough girls. You were
beautiful and rugged.”
His eyes danced with a sparkle of glee, definitely catching
Beverly’s attention. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“I actually remember when I fell for you.”
“Yeah, when?”
“Me, Debbie, you, and your sister Evie were in my parents’
basement dancing and singing to your dad’s new James Brown
record. You took my hands, and we twirled in circles, singing
and laughing. You were the only one who would dance with
me.”
“I was paid.”
“You weren’t.”
“I remember that day also. You learned every word to ‘Sex
Machine.’”
“And now I have a real one, the one I’ve always wanted.
Maybe that’s why I love James Brown so much.” Their lips ten-
derly met, soon engulfing in a kiss that was so bittersweet they
both felt weak. He slid her coat off her shoulders, letting it hit
the floor with a thud. He embraced and seduced skin he’d
ached to touch since the last day he’d seen her. The low dip of
her dress made access to her bare skin so much more attainable,
making him forget he was in his sister’s house. Her mere touch
was earth shattering, making his pants poke in the front like a
rocket leaving the galaxy. He whispered, “The bedroom is up-
stairs. Wanna go with me?”
“And miss your sister’s Thanksgiving dinner?”
“She understands.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t—”
 S TILL THE O NE / 71

His lips covered hers again, licking, sucking, hungering for

so much more, trying to convince her while nibbling insatiable
lips. . . . Then a voice cleared from the entrance. “You two
gonna stay out here, or should the turkey walk out to you?”
Ethan slowly turned to see Debbie smiling at the lovers. His
caddish grin returned while trying to hide an erection the
height of Mt. Fuji. “We’re coming. I just wanted to—”
“I know what you were ‘just’ trying to do. You’ve always
been good at taking off girls’ dresses, including my Skipper doll
years ago. You eventually lost her clothes and mashed her
boobs in.” Debbie hiked her thumb in the direction of the din-
ing room. “Get a move on, you two.”
As the three walked, she pulled Beverly aside, whispering,
“Tell me, is my brother a good lover to you?”
“Are you kidding? He’s the best in three states!”
“Seriously!”
“Debbie, no man has ever taken me where Ethan has. He’s
amazing.”
“Should be; he’s been practicing enough. You deserve the
good things in life, Bev.”
“And your brother is it!”

After eating his third slice of homemade pumpkin pie, Ethan

slid a piece of paper into Beverly’s hand.
She quickly read it and looked up at him in surprise. “What?
You aren’t serious.”
“I’m very serious.”
She looked at the car-wash receipt again, a reminder of when
she’d insisted on paying for the red Mercedes in his dealership
to be cleaned. But her eyes narrowed in on the small handwrit-
ing. Paid in full, you are now the new owner of an X-Class
Mercedes LI. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You’re
giving me a car, Ethan?”
72 / Renée Alexis

“That and more.”

“More? What else do you have up your sleeve?”
“You’ll have to see later when we’re upstairs. Do you like
your car?”
She willingly kissed his lips in front of everyone again. “I
love the car, but I love you more.”
“Exactly the words I’ve always wanted to hear.”

“So, what’s it like dating Ethan?”

Beverly looked around the elaborately decorated kitchen,
trying to think of the perfect response. There was only one
when it came to him. “Incredible!”
“Really? Are we talking about the same Ethan Jacobs?”
“Sure. Don’t you know your own brother by now? He’s
really quite the man, something I never would have expected
from him years ago. I could just see him impregnating half of
Ohio and working his way west to Indiana.” She smiled a coy
smile. “Actually I was surprised to find out he had only one
child. He’s really something.”
Debbie enthusiastically plopped her elbows atop the table.
“Really? How? I want details, girl, from the day you first saw
him grown to now.”
“You won’t believe this, but he actually hired someone to
find me.”
“He has always been a basket case over you, so that doesn’t
surprise me. Believe me, he’s got the money to have anyone
found. How’d he do it, though?”
Same old Debbie, always the one to dig for information,
down to the very nucleus of the situation, but that’s what made
them friends—they complimented one another, and they still
did. “Ethan just walked into my pharmacy on Devil’s Night
and—”
“Devil’s Night, huh? Yeah, that sounds like the kind of night
he would show up on.”
 S TILL THE O NE / 73

“It was perfect though. I didn’t recognize him at first. I actu-

ally thought he was a pervert, a cute one, and I was about ready
to call the cops. Then he told me his name, and everything
kicked in place. The minute he smiled, there was Ethan all over
again, but taller, sexier. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
“I’ll admit, Ethan turned out to be a hottie.” Debbie took a
sip from her hot cider. “I knew he’d find you one day. Every
time he comes out here, the second thing out of his mouth is
about you. He really wanted to find you, girl, and I knew he’d
be relentless in his endeavors.”
“I’m glad he was.”
“Me, too. I’ve often wondered about you, and here you are,
a big-time pharmacist.”
“I don’t know about the ‘big time’ part. In a way, I wish I
had your life. I’ve always wanted a husband and children. I had
the husband and the child—unfortunately they were in the
same body.”
“Girl, you are so crazy, just like old times.” Debbie took
Beverly by the hand. “I hope this means I’ll see you again be-
fore another twenty or more years pass. Besides, I think Ethan
is more than willing to be that perfect husband and father. He’s
great with Danica. You should see him out there playing with
all those kids, and believe me, it’s a lot of them out there. All are
mine and Ward’s but three.”
Ethan ducked his head into the kitchen door with a smile
lighting his scrumptious face. “Did I hear my name being
called?”
“You did indeed. Beverly and I were discussing the lack of
brain mass you possess.”
“No, we weren’t. You’re such a tease.” Beverly turned in her
chair, reaching for Ethan’s hand. “I told her about the best
night of my life.”
“Was I in it?”
“You made the night, buddy boy.”
74 / Renée Alexis

Ethan immediately bent over to land a sweet kiss on her lips.

“Mmm, I could and will do that all night tonight. How about I
tuck Danica into bed with April, read them both a story, and
then curl up with you?”
“Sounds great.”
“Give me twenty minutes, and then come up to the second
guest room, the one on the left.”
“How many are there?”
“A lot. My main man Ward designs amusement parks. Funny
thing, he was a dope in school, from what I can remember hear-
ing.”
Debbie eagerly cut in. “Yeah, and you weren’t?”
He kissed Beverly’s soft cheek. “Remember, twenty min-
utes, girl. Don’t be late.”
After he walked out, the overly anxious Debbie nudged her
friend in a giddy manner. “That boy is really planning some-
thing. What in the world have you done to him?”
Beverly took the last sip from her cider. “Not nearly enough,
and I’d better not be late tonight, right?”
“Apparently not.”
Twenty-five minutes passed, and Beverly was eagerly on her
way to the second guest bedroom. Giving a man five extra min-
utes of anticipation was always so worth it, and with Ethan, the
rewards could be astronomical.
As she walked the rest of the upper floor, she saw just how
well Debbie and Ward were doing. Sure, she was doing fine
with her two-story house in one of the more affluent areas of
Cleveland, but nothing like this. Ethan’s house wasn’t even this
fabulous, even though he had the cash to live like a rap star. He
was her rap star, and she was happy to be a duo with him.
When she entered the luxurious bedroom, she automatically
heard splashing in the bathroom. What really got her was the
big bed; she and Ethan could play all night on something that
 S TILL THE O NE / 75

huge. Yeah, that was the real deal. At that, she turned the knob
to the private bathroom and saw Ethan sitting in a sunken bath-
tub filled with bubbles. His only words: “Take those clothes
off, girl. Right now.”
He enjoyed watching her perform her slow striptease, toss-
ing away clothing like crazy and exposing hints of honey-
brown skin soft and smooth enough for him to spray his very
fluids at the mere thought of her. When she was down to the
last few pieces, he stared at her plump breasts in amazement.
“Take off your bra, and squeeze them together for me. You
know I like it when you do that.”
She eagerly did it, taking the tender mounds into her hands,
massaging them to the point where both nipples almost met.
His expression almost made her come. His seductively low
voice called again. “Slide from the panties.”
She did one better by moving the garment to her hips and
sliding a hand inside, stroking her own dripping-wet sex just
for his benefit. The way he watched her made her come hard
that time. What added to the tension was how he stroked him-
self while watching her. Her eyes peered into the tub, wishing,
hoping that even a part of his luscious tip would poke from the
water.
“Get in with me, baby. Take me to another world.”
No words, no nothing, just lots and lots of oozing action.
The minute she stepped into the warm, soothing water, she
knew there was only one move to make. His hands braced her
as she lowered herself onto his erection. The deeper she low-
ered onto him, the more she could feel her muscles constrict-
ing, accommodating him, taking him all in until she felt so full
and solid—full of solid, hot cock, and it was ready to be driven.
Before he got into action mode, he kissed her, kissed her
long and hard, making her moan and call to him just by one
76 / Renée Alexis

kiss. He was good like that, and she loved it like that. All of it
put together was cool like that!
As their lips met, Ethan heard the distant sounds of the
Christmas music—another one of his favorites, Bing Crosby’s
Hawaiian Carol, “Mele Kalikimaka.” He definitely was in the
literal tropics each time his lips met Beverly’s. And to add to his
delight, he strategically placed the bubbles around her nipples,
making the tender, pointed buds reach out to him. With a quick
rinse, the darkly hued nipples were again in licking distance.
He devoured them, one after the other, playing with one while
sucking decadently on the other.
Everything Ethan touched on her gave her goose bumps,
but her breasts were especially sensitive to him. The harder he
pulled and nipped at the heightened peaks, the more she rode
him. At first, her thrusts were gentle, rhythmic, quickly be-
coming more rugged, faster, moving so hard up and down on
him water was splashing from the circular tub. The hell she
cared—she’d come a long way to be with a lover way beyond
no other, and she planned on taking it and him to the ultimate
max. The harder she moved on him, the more she could feel her
sex tightening around his. He felt like a mountain within her,
one that was ready to release heat in eruptions that were totally
outrageous. But not yet.
Complete lovemaking had to last, and as she danced upon
him, listening to all that lovely Christmas music, the more she
had to feel him. His smooth, hard body mixing with the heat
from the water made that winding feeling within her core re-
turn with a fury. All she wanted to do was let it go, let it pour
from her in sheets of melted passion, yet there was still more.
Ethan edged her on by holding her sides as she pounded
him. The look on his face as he watched the only woman he
ever really loved making love back to him was way more than a
 S TILL THE O NE / 77

Kodak moment, it was a portrait waiting to happen. Love

danced in his eyes, and seeing that love returned made him take
her to that ultimate moment faster and faster. His hands
wrapped around her hips and held her in place as he rocked fe-
rociously backward and forward. He knew she loved it rough,
and giving it to her in the harshest yet most arousing ways was
all he planned to do for the rest of his life. Adding additional
pressure to her sex made him see stars, lightning, rain, fire-
works—everything. Yet he still needed more.
His mouth covered hers again as he moved two fingers into
her alongside his shaft. Double duty, and Beverly’s muscles re-
laxed enough to accommodate every inch of him. What made
him rock to the ends of the earth was hearing her scream out
those terribly sexy moans and screams. That was another thing
about Beverly: her lustful screams triggered every reaction in
him. No woman had ever made the great and powerful Oz
scream in utter mania, yet she had accomplished that by being
with him the first time.
They came together in powerful thrusts, wetting everything
in the vicinity, including Debbie’s marbled dark-red-and-cream
tiled floor. What the hell—everything else was wet, why not
that? As Ethan watched his lover squirm from a monster of an
orgasm, he quickly made her stand, parted her legs and felt the
rest of her climax as he sucked it from her. That was a feeling
he’d never forget, how her body quivered all over his lips. The
best part, her cream was so sweet, so moist and alive, just like
the rest of her.
Out of breath and lovin’ it, Beverly relaxed against him, feel-
ing the still-warm water tickling her breasts as she returned to a
seated position between his thighs. Her hands smoothed his
muscular thighs. “I’ve never done it in a tub before.”
“Did you like it?”
“Out-fucking-standing!”
78 / Renée Alexis

“Good, because we did everything else but bathe. Perhaps

we should do that.”
“Bathing you is another one of my fantasies. However, this
isn’t the first time I’ve seen you in a tub. You took my baby sis-
ter’s plastic tugboat and was in the tub with it. Naturally I was
over and had to use the potty. I stepped in and saw you with
Christy’s boat, and I took it! Your naked butt chased me all
over the house, and I got the biggest kick out of watching those
spindly legs of yours.”
He smoothed her cheek. “Are they still spindly?”
“No. Neither is anything else on you, for that matter.”
“Now you can take anything I have and give me a good
sudsing down, to boot! I’m still a filthy son of a—”
“No, you’re not, but a good bath would be a bittersweet end
to this glorious evening. Where’s the bath gel?”
Ethan reached behind him and retrieved a container, hand-
ing it to her with sudsy hands. “I think you’ll like this soap. It’s
scented.”
She opened the box only to see another box inside it—a
midnight-blue satiny box. Her eyes bugged. “What is this?”
“Soap! Open it, and get busy on me.”
“Ethan! What have you done?”
“Just open it. Always questioning with that empirical mind
of yours.”
Beverly slowly opened the box, listening as it creaked open.
Revealing itself to her was a diamond cluster engagement ring.
Her fingers delicately touched it as if it would break. Her voice
was a quivering mass of happiness. “Ethan, is this what I think
it is?”
“I sure hope so, baby.” He slid the ring from the box and
onto her finger. “I’ve always wanted to say this to you, but you
were either not around or busy thinking I was still a kid—
which I was at the time. I love you, Beverly. I love you more
 S TILL THE O NE / 79

than I love the air I breathe, and nothing would make my life
more complete other than you marrying me. So will you marry
me? Be my full-time baby and my lifetime mistress?”
Her watery eyes stared into his as he spilled his feelings to
her. She stopped him in midsentence. “Yes, Ethan!”
He blinked, not believing the words he thought he heard.
“Did you say yes to me?”
She strummed his smiling cheeks. “I said yes to you. I said
yes to Debbie’s baby brother.”
“You will?” He pulled her body into his, kissing her lips in
lavish form. “I’ll finally have the wife I’ve always wanted.”
“And me the husband I’ve always wanted.”

Instead of towel drying every portion of her, he licked her in

all the delicate areas, starting with her lips, working his way
down. Her still-throbbing, warm core was so ready for his re-
visitation. When his tongue entered her, flicking around her
clit, a smile came to her face, a thought to her mind. I can have
this forever. Forever it would be, because once Ethan Jacobs
got his clutches into anything he wanted, it was for a lifetime.
The scent of peaches and cream filled the guest bedroom.
Awaiting her was a sunken bed large enough for her and Ethan
to do anything they wanted for however long it took. That’s
what she liked, a bed big enough to live a lifetime on—and with
a loving husband she knew would take care of her for the rest
of her life. The days of the revolving door were gone; no more
of the man who operated on his own rules solely without a sec-
ond thought to the woman he married. Ethan was a man, a real
man, though she could still see that darling little face of a kid
who had the perpetual terrible-twos syndrome. Now he was
bad in other ways . . . superbad!
Mr. Super Bad now awaited her on the fresh silk sheets, pat-
ting the space next to him. His hand reached for hers and pulled
80 / Renée Alexis

her on top. “This is the first night you and I can really act like
man and wife.” His eyes gleefully looked to the ceiling.
“Hmmm, man and wife. I like the sound of that.”
“I love the sound of that. And I swear to you I’ll make the
best wife a man could ever want.”
“You’ve done that already. The minute you took that damn
tugboat from me, I knew you were everything. I’ve worked
hard for what I have—the house, my dealerships, Danica. I just
want my life to be something I can be proud of, for someone to
be proud of me. I was always that kid everyone thought was
nothing but a walking sperm bank; everyone thought my life
would be nothing but one useless relationship after another.
When Elaine and I broke up, hell, I thought the same things
myself. But in the back of my mind, I knew I was more than
that. Somehow or another, you were always a part of it.”
She leaned over him and tenderly kissed the tip of his pointed
nose. “I’m proud of you, if that counts for anything.”
“It counts for everything. I just want to be good for you, for
us.”
A shriek of devilment illuminated her eyes. “Let me be good
to you.” She lowered his cotton boxers and glorified over how
his maleness jumped out at her, all nine inches of him, steaming
hot and ready to get fulfilled.
He was still damp from the bath and smelling like sex and
sage bath gel. The mixture suited him; the taste of it satisfied
her as her tongue played with his tip, circling its middle. Her
hot lips soon covered it, drawing on it slowly over and over as
his eyes rolled in his head. His fingers tangled in her hair, mas-
saging her scalp with the same intensity with which she was
adorning him.
She took in his length completely, slowly moving him in and
out as his hands massaged her back and sides. “I could do this
with you twenty-four-seven, girl. You know that?”
 S TILL THE O NE / 81

No verbal response, just the continuance of her attack upon

his scrotum, dragging her tongue across it and circling his base.
He felt so good and hard, smelled like the luscious man he was.
Nothing in her past life had ever been that good; no man had
ever pleased her the way Ethan had. They had not been men,
and it took a real man to point out a boy.
He awakened the next morning to find himself lying on top
of her. They’d made love so hard and for so long the previous
night they fell asleep in the process. They were still in the same
position he remembered, doggy style. That was Beverly’s fa-
vorite position, and being a man into cars the way he was, he
was more than happy to “rear end” her any time she wanted
him to.
When he slid from her, she automatically awakened, yawn-
ing with smiling eyes. “Wow, what time is it?”
“Still early.”
“Did we do it all night long?”
“Last I looked at the clock, it was after three A.M. So, yeah,
we did it all night, and it was mind-blowing. Each time with
you is different, each position is a course in sensuality.” He
kissed her hand. “You didn’t give me an answer to my question
last night.”
“What? About marrying you?”
“No, believe me, I remember that answer. The other ques-
tion, you know . . . when we should make it legal.”
She moved back into his arms. “As soon as possible. I’ve al-
ways wanted a New Year’s Eve wedding. We can wed in the
day, and let the reception last until just after midnight. That
way, everyone can kiss us into a new year and a new life to-
gether. How’s that sound?”
“Absolutely perfect. Let’s go home and get started.”
“On what, the wedding plans?”
“We can do that, too.”
82 / Renée Alexis

“You’re a mess, Ethan. Haven’t I worn you out enough?”

“Not hardly. I have a lifetime to go.”
They descended the winding staircase with Danica behind
them. The first to meet them were Debbie’s two pit bulls who
were literal cream puffs in every sense of the word—Pork Chop
and Chrysanthemum. Their flowery barks brought Debbie from
the kitchen. Her eyes widened to the sight of both Ethan and
Beverly carrying suitcases. “What’s going on here? I thought
you two were staying a few days.”
“No, we’ve got to get back. Things to do.”
“Oh, right. You have to get Danica back to school. I forgot
about that.”
“Debbie, she’s in kindergarten. What’s she going to miss,
nuclear science?”
“Cute, real cute, but I wanted to visit more with Bev.”
Debbie reached for her old buddy’s hand. “Am I going to see
you again?”
“That’s a distinct possibility.” She nudged Ethan’s shoulder.
“Should we tell her now?”
Debbie’s eyes widened. “Tell me what? Come on, you
guys!”
Ethan’s arm tightened around his soon-to-be bride’s waist.
“I’ve asked Beverly to marry me, and she—”
“I said yes.”
Debbie screamed her typical high-pitched scream that set
off the dogs again. Everyone upstairs jumped out of bed and
came tumbling downstairs as Debbie’s words echoed in their
ears. “They’re getting married! They’re getting married!”
Ethan and Beverly stood in the middle of the floor kissing as
the crowd gathered.

As planned, Ethan and Beverly became Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs

late on the day of December 31 and kissed their way into unde-
niable love at the stroke of twelve. They have been married for
 S TILL THE O NE / 83

two years, and he’s the best thing that could ever have hap-
pened to her. They have a nine-month-old daughter named Eden,
who they are raising alongside Danica. Funny thing, Beverly
never thought Ethan would produce girls; he looked more like
the kind who would have a slew of rusty-butt boys.
The point to this story is simply this: girls, don’t mistreat
your friend’s baby brothers. They may be bigger than you
think!
Her Wildest
Fantasy
Sydney Molare
 1

Present day

I pushed open the bar door with something akin to relief. I’d
had the bitch to end all bitches of a day! On top of that, I
needed some relief from my cell phone blowing up. Shoot, I’d
left that sucker in the car. Let them call away, ’cause ain’t no-
body gonna answer shit till tomorrow.
See, I quit both of my boyfriends today. Yeah, I woke up
and realized that I was dating two single men, yet I’m alone
every holiday and special occasion, like they’re married or
something. Did they accept the new status quo, and leave it
alone? No. Hence the phone ringing every, and I do mean ev-e-ry,
few seconds. Dang, what is it about men that makes them lose
their minds when you end the relationship? I mean, they’re al-
ways losing interest, moving on, or needing space. But when I
say I need the same thing . . . World War III, IV, and V are initi-
ated. Shit!
I eased myself onto a stool and looked around the half-filled
room. There were plenty of men present, but I didn’t give them
88 / Sydney Molare

more than a cursory glance. I’d had enough man drama to last
me a lifetime.
The bartender stopped in front of me. “What would you
like?”
I looked him over—earrings (blah!), tight-assed T-shirt, and
a bald dome. Not bad, just not interested. “Got a Singapore
Sling up in here?” I asked quietly.
“Nope.”
“Sex on the Beach?” I offered.
“Nope.”
Shit, that was my entire repertoire of drinks I liked. I shook
my head slowly and said, “OK, what do you have sweet?”
He leaned closer to the countertop. “We’ve got Romper
Room, Incredible Hulk, and a new one I call Fuck Till Sunrise.”
He winked seductively.
“Give me the Fuck Till Sunrise!” I was betting the drink was
as delicious as the name.
“Coming up.”
While he mixed the drink, my mind moved back to my ex-
boyfriends. Tommy was a tall dark drink of water. His lanky
body was true poetry in motion. Even though we didn’t see
each other nearly as much as I wanted, I loved the way he fo-
cused totally on me when we were together. This brother gave a
Swedish deep-tissue massage that was an out-of-body experi-
ence! He used these massage lotions that got hot when he
rubbed . . . oh! Everything was limp and pliable once his capa-
ble hands had roamed my body. Now, he was a little slim in the
dick department, but his lightning tongue made me forget that.
Shit, he ate pussy like he was in competition for the King of
Cunnilingus title. I ain’t mad about it, either. But still, seeing
him once a week—maybe—just wasn’t enough. And after a
year, I guess he didn’t see fit to increase the time we spent to-
gether, so I bounced.
Now, Felix was just the opposite of Tommy—golden and
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 89

thick. As a matter of fact, everything on this brother was

thick—feet, dick, neck, thighs . . . The list goes on and on. This
brother was a true roughneck. He spanked that ass, bucked me
like a bronco, and tied bows in my tongue. He was a wild
roller-coaster ride, and I willingly rode his ass without a seat-
belt. But again, seeing him every psychedelic moon wasn’t
working. I mean, yeah, he worked late, but stop by on your
way home, and toss this ass sometimes. I got tired of waiting
until his day off. I think he teared up or something when I
broke it off. His voice trembled, got low. I felt kind of bad . . .
but like I said, don’t wait until I’m out the door to let me know
what I mean to you!
The bartender slid my drink in front of me. “Ah, sexy lady, I
get off at two o’clock.”
I glanced at the clock and saw it was only seven thirty.
“Thanks for the info, but I’ll be deep in dreamland by that time.
I’ll keep it in mind for another time, though.” Right.
I gathered my drink and found a table. The music was an
eclectic mix—Top 40, reggae, R & B with some slow jams every
now and then. I leaned back and watched the other dancers,
hoping the “somer teeth” men I always attracted didn’t come
breathing on my neck.
I was halfway through my drink when the chair next to me
was pulled out and a familiar body sat in it—Felix. Neither of
us said a word for a few minutes. His eyes devoured me. I
wished I could say I felt uncomfortable, but, shit, let him look
at what he let get away.
Finally, “Why?”
I sighed. “You know why.”
He looked down and then back at me. “If you’d give us an-
other chance, it won’t be the same way.”
“Yeah, right.”
Felix leaned closer. “I mean it. Just give me another chance,
baby.”
90 / Sydney Molare

I skipped replying, took another sip of my drink, and

looked around the room. You know how you get that feeling
that someone is staring at you? I felt the hair on the back of
neck rise and knew someone was staring me down. My eyes fil-
tered through the darkness and settled on two eyes boring into
me three tables over. Tommy.
Shit!
What’s the likelihood of both ex-boyfriends showing up at
the same place and same time I’m at? Slim. These jokers must
have a tracking device on my phone or something.
My hand trembled as I took a long gulp of my drink. The
deejay put on a slow reggae song, and Felix gave me a smile.
“This is our kind of music, girl.” And he was correct. He’d
always made mad love to slow reggae. “Let’s dance.”
I wanted to refuse but needed to delay the inevitable en-
counter with Tommy, so I took the proffered hand and walked
onto the dance floor. He gyrated his hips, and I followed suit.
His hands grazed up and down my waist as they always had.
The music moved me, and I relaxed. I began dancing like an is-
land girl—all pelvis, no upper body. Felix licked his tongue out
and blew me a kiss. I blushed in spite of myself.
The song finally ended. I turned to walk off the floor, when
the opening strains of R. Kelly’s “You Made Me Love You”
came on. Felix grabbed my waist from behind, and his minty
breath said in my ear, “One more . . . for old time’s sake.”
I should have walked off the floor, but something in me
just . . . couldn’t. I leaned back onto that massive chest and
grooved with his groove. His hand encircled my waist, pulled
me forcefully backward. My ass met his hard dick. He shifted
and allowed it to settle between my cheeks. I closed my eyes,
willed myself to be strong . . . somehow.
When I opened my eyes, Tommy was still staring me down.
I could make out the angry glint in his eyes from a distance of
twenty feet. Felix’s lips pressed into the back of my neck, and
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 91

his breath floated down and tickled my chest. His hands

slipped up and down my flat belly, pressing, releasing. I felt my
nether lips begin to weep in ecstasy. I never broke eye contact
with Tommy as Felix slowly massaged my ass with his dick,
around and around, side to side. Lawd! How the beat held me
hostage.
Tommy rose suddenly and strode toward the dance floor. I
knew this could be some cemetery shit, but something told me
it wasn’t. Tommy stopped six inches from me. Felix never hesi-
tated in his groove. I could see hell in Tommy’s eyes, and, sure
enough, the devil came out.
Tommy took a step closer, body now touching mine, before
he began rocking to the beat himself. His hands reached around
and cupped my ass cheeks, squeezing momentarily, as he
molded his pelvis to mine. His dick was rock hard.
Aw, shit!
Tommy rubbed his dick up and down my clit, creating mini-
sparks that caused me to jerk. My pussy sobbed.
Felix began nibbling on the left ear. Tommy took the right.
Talk about a mind-blowing experience!
Felix kissed along the left shoulder. Tommy nipped along
the right. Felix cupped my breasts and squeezed. My nipples
were like diamonds. I’m sure they were etching FUCK ME into
Tommy’s chest.
Tommy nipped back to my ear and whispered, “Let me love
you like you know I can,” before he captured my lower lip in a
teasing bite.
Not to be outdone, Felix pulled my head back and deep-
throated me. He kissed my eyes, cheeks, and then whispered,
“Nobody can love you like I will tonight.”
Now, I don’t care what they say about R. Kelly, but that was
the right song, for the right occasion, played at the right time
tonight! Dry-humped by two brothers I liked, and nobody
complaining? Hell, I was doing some shit I’d only heard about,
92 / Sydney Molare

and I wasn’t about to back down. Besides, my coochie was hys-

terical ’cause it was so horny.
I closed my eyes again as twin lips traced love notes on my
skin, pelvises sizzled through fabric, and hands made promises
I damn sure wanted them to keep. Fingers stroked, slid, pinched
my waist, breasts, ass, hair . . . shit!
I don’t know how long the song was, but it wasn’t long
enough. I was sad to hear it ending. As we broke apart, I no-
ticed that people were standing and staring at us. I guessed we’d
been the show. That’s all right. If they’d had the chance, they
would have done the same thing.
They both stepped back, and each offered me their hand.
My skin tingled as I watched them stare at me. Make-up sex
was definitely in the air . . . but which one?
Suddenly my fantasy of two men popped into the forefront
of my mind. I imagined twin lips, hips, thighs intertwined with
mine. Two sets of hands stoking my fires, two sets of cocks
stroking me deep. . . . But, no, that was a fantasy, not reality.
Or could it be?
 2

One year before

It was one of those warm, muggy summer nights in which the

sky lay on my back and the stars shined like a marquee board.
I’d wandered outside, nursing a glass of now-warm red wine, as
I tried to find some relief from the smoke, loud music, and the
usual suspects—the married, the separated-but-the-wife-doesn’t-
know-it, the have-a-live-in-girlfriend-who-didn’t-understand-
him, and the obviously gay.
I swatted at the mosquitoes feeding on my exposed arms
while I stared at the moon and pondered the mysteries of relation-
ships, or, rather, why I couldn’t seem to stay in one, when—
“Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moon-
light?” a male voice said so near I could feel his breath in my
mane.
The hair rose on my neck; the glass slipped from my fingers,
shattering momentarily. I turned quickly, elbow connecting
with the abdomen just at my back.
94 / Sydney Molare

“Oomph!” The figure bent over.

I skirted the man and broken glass, intent on running for
help. He must have noticed because he stretched out his hand
to stop me. “Hold up. I’m not trying to hurt you.” He stood
slowly. Why I didn’t run away . . . I don’t know. Maybe it was
the melodious voice that told me he wouldn’t harm me, maybe
it was my subconscious wanting me to make sure he was OK,
maybe it was the night air and the fact I’d never met a man in
this type of situation. Anyway, I was rooted to the spot. “Girl,
you pack a mean punch.” I could see that at his full height, he
was around six foot two inches and lanky as a basketball player.
You know how you get that tingling when you meet some-
one? That was me at that moment. My hair flattened, my toes
hummed, and I wrinkled my toes in anticipation.
The man took a step forward, and all tingling ceased as my
fight-or-flight instinct returned. I moved farther away, toward
the safety of the patio doors.
He saw me. “Wait a minute. I’m not going to eat you.” The
timbred voice stopped me, and I waited. “I see we’ve gotten off
to a bad start.” White teeth shone in the moonlight, but I
couldn’t see his face. “I’m Tommy, and you are?”
All right, at least he was pleasant. I took a hesitant step for-
ward, eyes searching in the darkness for features, and stretched
out my hand, reaching tentatively for his. “I’m Sonata.”
“Glad to meet you, even though I scared you half to death,”
Tommy replied. His face moved out of shadows. I could see
dark skin, a goatee, and those blinding teeth.
Not too bad. “Yeah,” I replied, thinking the same thing.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve been noticing you for the past
hour.” I gave him a doubtful look. “Really. I’m here with some
friends, hanging out for the night, and saw you over by the fire-
place all alone.” He laughed. “I wondered what in the world
was wrong with these men in here! When I saw you leave, I
thought I’d follow you out and introduce myself.”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 95

Uh-oh. Here we go. Wonder which category he’s in? I held

my breath for whatever was coming next. He must have read
my face, because he held up his hands in surrender. “No, I’m
not married, don’t have a girlfriend, I rarely date, and I’m not
gay or down low and in denial.”
Well, he just answered all my questions. “Sure?” I teased,
feeling like a weight had lifted.
“Positive. I’m free as a bird. Promise.” Tommy crossed his
arms across his chest in an act of sincerity.
This information made the bad start worth slugging through!
I giggled as I thought of how I must have looked to him—crazy.
“I’m in the same boat you’re in then,” I said, still giggling.
Tommy looked back at the doors. “This party is dead for
me.” Then he looked back at me. “Want to go somewhere for a
drink and get better acquainted?”
My mama always told me never to go anywhere with
strangers, but I was beginning to feel this man. I took a chance.
“Sure. I know a nice bar not too far from here.”
He nodded. “You driving?”
“Of course,” I assured him. “You can follow me. I’m in the
red Miata.”
His lips parted in a teasing smile. “Gonna leave the top
down?” he baited.
What’s the point of owning a Miata unless the top is down?
“Of course!” I threw back at him and strutted toward the door
to leave.

We met in front of Lorenze’s Bar and Grill not five minutes

later. I was surprised to see his car was a Crown Victoria. The
last man my age I’d seen in a Crown Vic was a cop. I definitely
wondered if he was overly conservative; translation: dull as
hell.
I kept my thoughts to myself as he opened the door for me.
Chivalry is not dead! The bar’s crowd was light so we grabbed
96 / Sydney Molare

two stools near the middle and quickly ordered. I was happy to
see that unlike the norm, Tommy actually looked better in the
light—Adonis versus Big Foot with a shave.
“So . . . what do you do?” I asked, making conversation.
The drinks arrived, and he paid for them before answering.
“Now don’t laugh, but . . . I’m a massage therapist.”
A massage therapist riding in an old-ass Crown Vic? I
couldn’t help it . . . I laughed.
Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I knew you
would laugh.”
“So . . . sorry,” I wheezed between breaths. “I was expecting
you to say something totally different.” Like mortician, post-
man, or minister. What? Plenty of ministers frequent Lorenze’s.
You know what they say, “Same crowd, church or the club.”
“I know, teacher, banker, or something along those lines.”
Not the lines I had in mind, but I kept it to myself. “Yeah,
something like that.”
“Hate to disappoint you, but I’m just a little massage thera-
pist.” He fisted his hands and patted his chest.
Suddenly my mind went on another tangent. “Hey, that’s
not code for a stripper, is it?” I interrogated, a frown on my
face. The last thing I wanted in this day of AIDS was a stripper,
aka a screw-anything-for-money man, as a boyfriend. Yeah, we
weren’t even there, but the potential was in the air!
He gave me an astonished look before he swiped the air and
frowned. “No, indeed not! Do I look like a stripper?”
I gave him another once-over and decided he might be a lit-
tle lean for the strippers I’d seen, but his body was buff, and if
he was packing, he would fit the bill. I lifted an eyebrow. “You
could. . . .”
“Girl, I am not a stripper! Now, think. Could you see me
doing a table dance?”
That visual was something to write home to Mama about! I
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 97

could see him slowly pulling his shirt open, revealing—hope-

fully—hairy nipples, and then gyrating and grinding those hips
while he flexed his chest muscles, his tongue hanging out be-
tween those succulent lips—
“Hey, you still there?” Tommy was waving his hand in front
of my face.
I was so caught up in the fantasy, I didn’t respond until he
snapped his fingers under my nose. “Yeah. I’m still here.”
“You looked like you’d gone into outer space or something.
I was beginning to wonder—”
I cut him off. “I’m here. Wonder no more.”
Tommy looked at his watch. “Wow, it’s already two A.M.”
This made me suspicious. “You got a curfew?” I asked, wait-
ing to hear him go back on the “I’m free as a bird” shit he’d said
earlier.
“No. Just have an early appointment.”
OK . . . I guessed he must not be a stripper, because he
couldn’t hang all night. “What time?” I inquired.
“The first one is ten A.M. After that, I’ve got them every
hour until four P.M.”
I didn’t even realize that many people got massages. “Do
you go to their homes, or do you work in a shop?”
The smile was back. “I’m a mobile masseuse. My slogan is,
‘I’ll rub you down wherever, whenever.’ ”
“That’s some slogan. You could read anything you wanted
into it.” I winked.
He backed up, hands back in the air. “Oh, no. I’m strictly
business. No ‘extras.’”
I laughed at that. “I’ll bet they’re asking.”
He laughed along with me before replying, “Not too many,
but some do ask.”
“I know why,” I mumbled before I took a sip of my drink.
“What?” Tommy asked.
98 / Sydney Molare

“Nothing.” I smiled to assure him, and then I pulled his

wrist to mine and looked at his watch. “Time’s moving on.
Since you have an early appointment, I’ll get out of your hair.”
His eyes became hooded. “If there was ever anything I
wanted entangled in my hair, it’s you,” Tommy said, his low,
liquored breath flitting across my face.
I couldn’t help it. My estrogen surged, clit jumped, uterus
contracted, and my nipples stood up and saluted. Tommy saw
the nipples and licked his lips. I squirmed in my seat, felt the
juices welling at the entrance. Tommy noticed. He traced along
my cheek and down my neck to the throat. His knuckles
grazed my pulse. My clit pulsed in sync with my heartbeat.
Tommy leaned in. I saw his lips part, felt his hand along the
back of my neck, pulling me closer. Could have cried as his
other hand found my waist and squeezed lightly. His lips made
contact with mine. At first, I was hesitant, but as his tongue
parted my teeth and flipped my tongue every which way but
loose, I found my hands reaching up to palm his ass, squeezing.
His muscles contracted under my fingers; my clit engorged far-
ther.
He slanted my head and deepened the kiss. I opened my
eyes to see him watching me, desire glazing his corneas. My
tongue was thrusting and twisting, intertwined and entangled.
He kept pace, pulled me tighter. Shit! I felt the wetness seep
from my coochie, felt my pelvis begin a slow grind in search of
its counterpart. I’d begun to slide from the stool—
“Ahem.” A voice dragged me back to reality. “Y’all need to
get a room.”
Oh, my goodness! I’d forgotten where I was . . . and the fact
that I really didn’t know this man. I snatched my mouth from
Tommy, the red shame creeping up my neck.
Tommy looked over my head and smiled in the direction of
the bartender. “My bad. Guess we got carried away.”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 99

“Yeah. Now you need to carry her away up out of here.” I

heard the peevishness in the voice and felt my face flame hotter.
“It’s all good,” Tommy replied with a chuckle before look-
ing down at me. “You ready to go?”
I nodded. Tommy stepped back, and I slid off the stool and
walked on shaky legs to the exit without waiting for him. How
could I have been kissing a man in public like that? A man I’d
met less than an hour ago? The embarrassment made me walk
faster.
“Hey, you trying to get rid of me?” Tommy said as he
stepped in front of me to open the door.
He didn’t know how close to the truth he’d come. I kept my
eyes averted as I answered, “No. I’m just ready to get home.” I
never broke stride once on the sidewalk.
Tommy put his hand over mine as I opened the Miata’s door.
“Wait a minute.” I stood still, back to him. He turned me stiffly
around. “Hey, this has got you all stressed, hasn’t it?” He ran
his hands up and down my arms as I stared into his chest. A fin-
ger lifted my chin, and I looked into eyes, which were full of
concern. “I agree we got carried away, but it’s not the end of the
world. We’re two adults who seem to dig each other. . . . We
just happened to find out in the middle of a bar full of people,”
he finished. “Not against the law. Maybe poor judgment but
not against the law.”
His arm-rubbing, along with his positive spin on the situa-
tion, seemed to calm me. He was right. We may not have used
the best judgment, but kissing in public ain’t against the law ex-
cept . . . I wanted to dick him down right there. Now that
would have been against the law! I gave a shit-sorry grin and re-
mained silent.
“Want me to follow you home?” he asked.
A part of me wanted him to do more than follow me home.
I wanted him naked under me, on top of me, behind m—
100 / Sydney Molare

“Earth to Sonata.” Tommy was waving his hands in my face

again.
I blinked at him. “What?”
“Your body was here but your mind over there.” He
pointed to the left.
Uh-uh. My body was way farther down the road than that.
“Sorry.”
“Apology accepted. So, do you want me to follow you
home?”
“No. I’ll be fine,” I said.
Tommy pulled me close, kissed my hair, and then released
me and opened the door. He had it halfway shut before he
opened it again. I gave him a questioning look.
“Can I have your phone number?” he asked politely.
I know, halfway to bed and don’t even know his phone
number . . . or last name. My face flamed anew. “Sure,” I mut-
tered and rummaged around in my purse before finding a busi-
ness card. I wrote my number on the back and handed it to
him. He looked it over a minute before asking, “And can I take
you out tomorrow?”
I wasn’t expecting the question, so it made me pause. After a
moment I concluded I hadn’t been on a date in a minute, so I
was game. “Where and what time?”
“Hmmm.” Tommy looked into the air. “Since I don’t know
where you live, how about we meet here and go from there?”
“All right. Dressy or relaxed?”
Tommy leaned in close, voice low again. “I tell you what.
You get dressed like you want to, and we’ll let your dressing
style dictate where we go.”
That was a novel idea, and I liked it. “Got money to burn,
huh?”
Tommy laughed. “Not really, but I can hold my own.”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 101

“We’ll see. I can be high maintenance,” I fenced, feeling him

again.
“You’re in luck. My last job was a maintenance man,” he an-
swered before closing the door tightly and winking.
My, my, my . . .
 3

Manicures, pedicures, hairstyling, and clothes shopping took

up most of the time before my date with Tommy. I couldn’t get
over how I was acting like a high school girl—anxious, hoping
he’d like what I wore, praying my hair would stay beauty-shop
ready. By the time I hopped in the tub just a little after five, my
nerves were frayed and my self-confidence hanging on by a
piece of lint.
Tommy called around five thirty and said he would be in
front of Lorenze’s at seven. I oiled, patted, and perfumed in an-
ticipation. I discarded the clothes I’d bought just that day and
decided instead on a spaghetti-strapped number that could be
formal or casual, depending on how he was dressed. Manolo
Blahnik stilettos completed the outfit.
I drove to Lorenze’s at six forty-five and waited outside.
Tommy pulled up not five minutes later in the Crown Vic. He
parked and walked back to me, holding the door open as I ex-
ited the Miata. Before he spoke, a whistle split his lips.
“Girl, you looked good last night, but you outdid yourself
today!”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 103

I giggled at the appreciative look in his eyes. “Quit,” I said,

punching his arm lightly.
“I’m serious.” He whistled again. “You look yummy enough
to chow down on!”
His compliment went straight to my head, and I twirled to
show myself off fully before I struck a pose—legs wide, hip
thrust to the side, one hand on my waist.
I saw his khakis began to tent, and my smile widened. My
fingers ran lightly across his poloed chest before landing on an
erect nipple. Tommy’s eyes glazed over. He shook his head.
“Let’s get out of here before we end up making out on the
street this time.” He held out his hand.
“You think?” I asked innocently.
“Not think, I know,” he emphasized.
The air crackled with energy. I grabbed his hand and strut-
ted past him, pulling him along. I wiggled my hips like Mama
taught me and was rewarded with a, “Yes, indeed. I must be liv-
ing right.” I didn’t know about all that but was elated at the at-
tention nevertheless.
He seated me in his car before sliding into the driver’s seat
and turning toward me. “I had one place in mind, but looking
at you in that dress, I’m thinking somewhere totally different.”
His eyes searched my face.
“Is that right?” I vacillated between hoping he meant his
apartment—where I knew he’d get me to do anything he
wanted—and taking it slow.
“What’s your fantasy?”
That question hit me from outfield. Usually a man asked me
that when we were in the act or just about to sex each other
down, not during the preliminary talk of our first date. Some-
thing about the earnest look on his face made me want to tell
him the truth: I wanted a ménage à trois with two men.
Yes, two hot bodies rubbing against mine, two mouths suck-
ling my tight nipples as I held and stroked two cocks. Forget
104 / Sydney Molare

that two-woman shit, I wanted a man pumping into my cunt

while one loved my ass at the same time. My clit lurched at the
thought alone. God, I wanted to feel two sets of balls slapping
into my ass, taste two cocks in my mouth . . . but I couldn’t
bring myself to mouth the words, so I stared, silent.
He must have taken this as a too-strong come-on because he
said, “Hey, just forget it. We’ll go where I’d planned in the first
place.”
I deflated. I don’t know why, because he did ask, and I’m the
one who didn’t answer him. I guess I wanted him to press the
issue, find out the real truth about me. Instead, I gave another
sorry smile and looked out the window.

The rest of our conversation was safe. No more revealing

questions were asked by him, and I followed suit. Soon Tommy
slowed and drove into the parking lot of Tahoe, a new dinner
place I’d heard about but hadn’t gotten around to discovering
myself.
The place had a nautical theme—rope with anchors tied into
it, fish netting on the wall, and oceanic prints everywhere. The
maître d’ found our reservation and seated us in moments. I or-
dered an apple martini and chilled shrimp as my appetizer. He
asked for the salmon canapé.
“So, tell me again why a woman as delicious-looking as you
is single?” Tommy asked after the waiter left.
I thought of the trite answers: I’m waiting for Mr. Right;
men are dogs; I want love and a commitment. Lies . . . but I
didn’t believe he could handle the truth. So instead I said, “Oh,
I guess I’m . . .” I waved my hand, searching for an appropriate
word. When none came to mind, I settled on, “. . . different.”
“Different. How?” Tommy quirked an eyebrow.
How do you tell someone interested in you that you don’t
want to share a man but . . . you want to be shared by two
men? I’ve tried and tried the monogamous relationships, but,
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 105

truth be told, they get stale after a while. If I were honest, I’d
admit that I’ve gotten to the point where two people having
straight sex was boring as hell. I craved more, something rare,
unique.
I ran my tongue over my lips, buying time. Shoot, the way
he was looking at me, I ought to tell him I’m gay or . . . a man.
I changed my mind when I remembered the reactions of people
when they found out something like that. “I don’t seem to . . .
go with the norm.” There.
“You mean you don’t like to do stuff like other women?”
Most women I knew would love my idea, but he wouldn’t
understand, so I said, “Something like that.”
Tommy nodded. “Doesn’t sound like you’re too different.
My sisters hate to shop, hate to sit around beauty shops all day
and gossip, and hate to cook.”
“Sounds like me, all right.”
The waiter returned with our appetizers.
Suddenly I decided I was tired of the usual get-to-know-
you dinner. I wanted something different. Spicier. “So where
did you really want to take me?” I asked before I bit into my
shrimp.
Tommy placed the canapé halfway to his mouth and then
back on the plate. A smile played across his lips. He cleared his
throat. “It’s a place called Video.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s exclusive, so unless you’re a member, you wouldn’t.”
“Where is this club?”
“Club? It’s not a club . . . per se.”
This piqued my curiosity. “What does ‘not a club, per se’
mean?”
“It’s . . . difficult to explain. I’ll just say the entertainment is
something you probably have never seen before and may never
see again.”
106 / Sydney Molare

I liked that idea. “Unique” was my middle name. “We still

got time to go?”
“You sure?” Tommy took my hand. “This may change
your . . . opinion about me.”
“What opinion? I just met you yesterday, remember?”
“All right. Let’s go.”
Tommy signaled for the waiter, paid the check, and buckled
me into my seatbelt. Before he pulled out into traffic, he said,
“Get ready for a mind-blowing experience.”
I didn’t know what was in store, but my self-confidence had
climbed back to maximum capacity, and I refused to miss out
on another thing that interested me, good or bad. “I already
am.”
 4

We zipped along the downtown area. I wanted to ask more

questions, but I followed his lead and kept quiet, waited to see
for myself. The street we pulled onto had brownstones lining it
from one end to the other. I could see no building that would
house a club . . . per se. Tommy found an empty space halfway
down the block. No people were outside, and I was thinking he
had made a detour to his house before we continued on. I
changed that thought when he stepped outside, walked over to
my side, and opened the door.
“We’re here?” I asked.
“Yes. Guess you were expecting something else, huh?”
“Yeah,” I replied as I looked up and down the residential
area. “I would never have expected a club called Video to be
here, that’s for sure.”
“You’d be surprised at what goes on on a nice, quiet street
like this,” Tommy said, mouth just above my ear.
His breath made my clit jump, and I zoned out for a mo-
ment. I came back when he pulled me beside him and began
108 / Sydney Molare

walking down the street. We stopped in front of a nondescript

door two houses down. Tommy pushed the buzzer, and I was
surprised to see a small window slide open and a voice ask,
“Password?”
“Hedonist,” Tommy replied with a smile.
This was getting interesting as all get out! I waited expec-
tantly as the door swung open and a blond man wearing sun-
glasses ushered us in. He stepped outside and looked both ways
before stepping back inside and closing the door.
Hmmm. I clutched my purse tighter.
“My man,” the man said and embraced Tommy.
“What’s up, Sims?”
“The same old stuff.” Sims turned to me. “And who do we
have here?”
“Sonata, Sims. Sims, Sonata,” Tommy answered.
I held out my hand, and Sims took it and brushed it with his
lips. “Delicious.”
Tommy grabbed my hand from him. “Enough of that.”
Sims laughed and winked before looking at Tommy. “I un-
derstand. What will be your pleasure tonight?”
“Straight,” Tommy replied.
“Straight two, three, or anything goes?”
My mind was churning from the code play. What did
“straight two, three, or anything goes” mean? I didn’t get much
time to ponder as Tommy stared at me a moment and then an-
swered, “Let’s start with straight two.”
Sims popped his fist with Tommy’s before he said, “I feel ya.
Need the set up, huh?”
“No, but don’t want to overload Sonata too soon.”
With what? I wanted to scream.
“Soundstage Two ought to do the trick,” Sims assured him.
“Better hurry. The show is about to start.”
“Good deal. “
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 109

Tommy took my hand and pulled me down a hallway.

Doors were on both sides. I couldn’t hear anything but the hiss
of the central air. We stopped in front of a door with the num-
ber 2 painted on it. My anticipation level moved into the anxi-
ety zone.
He opened the door, and I could see a well-lit room with
rows of theater seating. A curtain hung in front of the first row,
but I could see more light through the cracks. Television screens
were suspended on each side of the curtain. A few couples were
already seated and paid us no mind.
A play! He’d brought me to see a play. I wondered what all
the fuss was about. A play wasn’t that unusual for me, so I
couldn’t understand all the subterfuge. We settled on a row a
third of the way down and in the middle seats. The lights began
to dim just as we leaned back in our seats.
“Which play is this?” I leaned over and asked.
“What?” Tommy frowned.
“Which play are we seeing?” I clarified. I knew there were
some playing in town, but it wasn’t out of the norm to have a
local artist put on something I hadn’t heard about. Get local
input and all.
Tommy chuckled and patted my hand. “Girl, I’ll just say,
you haven’t heard of this one before.”
Definitely a local artist.
I settled in my seat and waited for the curtain to open. I didn’t
have to wait long. In moments the red velvet slid open to reveal
an apartment setting with a large bed in the middle. Great, an-
other relationship drama. I held my tongue as canned music
began playing, and a blond woman wearing hot pants and a hal-
ter walked into the room. Men holding cameras zoomed in
from the sides. The televisions clicked on, and close-ups of the
action on the stage began playing.
“What kind of play has cameras?” I whispered.
110 / Sydney Molare

“This kind. Just watch and wait,” Tommy whispered back.

The woman puttered around the bed, shifting pillows and
pulling at the comforter, before sitting on the edge and remov-
ing her shoes. I gasped as she began removing her clothing next.
Her breasts were large, and the nipples a dusty gold-brown and
pointed. Her bush was shaped into a triangle, and her fingers
spread her lips until her clit was visible. I gripped the seat, en-
tranced and appalled. Tommy saw my reaction, smiled, and
then winked.
A man emerged from a side door wearing only a bathrobe.
He didn’t speak but walked up slowly behind the woman and
grabbed her around the waist. She turned in his arms and
opened her mouth wide as he pressed his mouth on top of hers.
The man’s hands roamed and then cupped her ample behind.
The woman pressed in closer, and her hands disappeared be-
neath the bathrobe.
My mouth felt dry as a lightbulb went off in my head. This
wasn’t a play. It was a porno video shoot!
My idea was confirmed as the man shrugged off the bathrobe,
revealing an erect cock wrapped in the woman’s hands. As the
cameras shot a close-up, I saw that his cock was long—nine or
ten inches—and fat. She pulled her mouth from his and kneeled.
Her tongue licked up one side and down the other before she
pressed her lips around the swollen red head. Another close-up
showed her engulfing it an inch at a time. The man grabbed her
tresses and pulled himself deeper. She bobbed her head slowly;
a moan escaped from her throat. I almost moaned with her as
my clit engorged, and pussy juice leaked past my lips. I shifted
in my seat and crossed my legs against the sensations, my eyes
held hostage by the images.
The woman now sucked in earnest. The man held on to her
hair, set his feet, and pumped into her waiting mouth. I could
see the imprint of him in her throat.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 111

Shit!
“That’s it, baby. Suck it all,” the man encouraged.
My tongue inadvertently licked my lips. I wanted, no, felt
like I’d changed places, and his fat cock was down my throat.
Tommy placed his hand over mine and began massaging it
slowly. His touch made my pussy juice multiply exponentially.
I wanted to leave . . . and I wanted to stay. You wanted ex-
citement, so you’ve got it, my mind chided me. I glanced around
the room and saw people in various states of sex play—tongues
down throats, hands down blouses, and one head where there’d
previously been two.
The man pushed the woman onto the bed. He spread her
legs wide before licking the insides of her thighs and moving
upward. He parted her lips, and a zoom shot of her stiff pink
clit made my womb clench. He dipped his head and latched on
to it. His tongue roamed over her clit before he sucked the tip.
The woman’s hips lifted off the bed at his touch.
Damn! This shit is good!
His head swirled, bobbed, figure-eighted as his tongue vi-
brated on the clit. A finger slipped inside her. The woman
bucked against his face, grabbed his head, and pressed him
closer.
I leaned forward, nipples sensitized as hell, as I watched the
screen. Tommy massaged my back. I inconspicuously slipped
my hand beneath my dress and tweaked my own clit.
The man slid lower, his tongue now pushing inside her labial
lips. His head and fingers thrust in concert. I knew the woman
was about to come as she cupped and sucked her own breasts.
In seconds she screamed, her juices spewing out.
I could barely sit; my hips gyrated on their own now. I was
held rapt as the man smeared his hands in her honey and mas-
saged it over his cock. He then removed some clamps held by a
chain from a nightstand and clipped them on to her nipples.
112 / Sydney Molare

The woman just moaned. He turned her over and pulled her to
her knees, the chain held in his hands. He positioned himself
behind her and then surged inside her with one great thrust.
The woman arched her back and yelled, “Deeper, baby, I like it
deeper,” and pushed her ass higher into the air
The man gripped her ass and rode his mare. His huge balls
swung in the air, smacked against her clit. The man slapped her
ass hard. The woman gyrated. He slapped her ass again and
again and again. Her ass was red, but still she gyrated like hell!
I never realized my dress straps had been lowered until I felt
fingers pulling on my nipples. I wish I could say I jumped up,
slapped Tommy, and ran out of there.
Instead . . .
I turned and pulled his head down to my breasts. My mind
cautioned me to go slow; don’t let things get out of control. But
as his hands weighed and squeezed my heavy globes, I threw
caution to the wind. Didn’t care if FAST was stamped on my
forehead as soft lips licked the turgid tips and then suctioned
them deep. Damn!
Hormones zipped through my bloodstream, and my body
trembled as his tongue slowly circled my stiff berries. I arched
my back as the invisible string connecting my breasts and clit
was drawn taut, so taut. Molten fire curled in my pussy, licked
outward to burn my stroking fingers. I held on to the back of
his head, kept those glorious lips melded to my aching buttons.
My clit throbbed in pleasure; I stroked faster.
I couldn’t stop my body’s reactions, became a willing pris-
oner of pleasure. I shifted Tommy to the other nipple, felt his
hands nestle in my curls, commandeering my clit. I opened my
legs, gave him room to part my labial lips, find my fiery pussy.
I gasped as Tommy’s fingers massaged my clit slowly, thor-
oughly. His thumb slid open my folds, dipped into my nectar,
and then spread the slippery honey around the entrance. Other
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 113

fingers joined the thumb, and muscles liquefied as he pushed

one, two . . . more inside. A loud moan escaped from my
mouth but was abruptly killed as he found my G-spot and the
air stilled in my chest.
I tried to regain some semblance of sanity, tried to slow my
traitorous body, but the combination of his mouth on my nip-
ples, thumb on my clit, and fingers in my pussy drove me out
of my mind! I writhed in ecstasy, my body moving innately to
fulfill its need.
I grabbed Tommy’s head, unlatching his lips from my nip-
ples, and licked the succulent oral twins before I clamped them
on mine. He stabbed, probed, and tied my tongue in knots,
promised me Xanadu with his lightning sword. I swallowed,
inhaled, twisted beneath his luxurious mouth; whimpered in
pleasure as I tried valiantly to match his pace.
“Like that?” Tommy whispered against my lips.
I answered by bucking against his hand, felt his wood as I
groped the front of his pants. My hands squeezed, roamed up
and down the thick muscle, thumb stroking across his tip. He
squirmed, pressed fingers deeper inside of me, letting me know
I was on point. I moved lower, cupped the sac. He inhaled
sharply, hands tangled in my hair, as his tongue shifted into
high gear. I rubbed and stroked, needed to take him where he
had taken me.
Oh, how I wanted to drag his dick into the open air, push his
cock inside me, and ride as I felt my juices slide between my
cheeks. Wanted to throw my legs across his shoulders, let him
sip the nectar he’d manufactured, when—
The man on the screen screamed, pulled out, and sprayed
himself across the woman’s ass. My clit lurched. I tried to slow
my hips, Tommy’s fingers, but it was beyond my control. I bit
Tommy’s tongue as pinpricks leaped up my legs to my clit,
where a geyser of juice covered his stroking hand. . . .
114 / Sydney Molare

The curtain closed, and the lights stayed dim. I could hear
the sounds of lovemaking going on around us. Tommy was bit-
ing my ear, blowing occasionally. My body still hummed, clit
still strummed. We shared breath as our heartbeats slowed.
Still, I could hardly move when he said, “Ready to go?”
I was . . . but where to?
 5

The drive back to Lorenze’s was quiet. I was still on my sexual

high, trying to suppress the moans waiting to be heard as I re-
played the night’s scenes over and over. It might be whorish of
me, but I’d be lying if I said I wished I’d never gone to Video.
That kind of shit was just what the lover in me needed in order
to wake things up! Tommy was right about one thing: my opin-
ion about him did change. He had zoomed to the top of the at-
tractiveness meter.
I was strung out, tight with sexual energy, as we pulled be-
hind my Miata. I wanted more than his fingers. I wanted his
dick licking the insides of my pussy, making my nectar flow
like water from me. Tommy must have felt the energy. He
stopped and said, “I don’t want this night to end. I want to love
you up and down. See you come on me. Me come in you.”
My clit lurched again. I tried to suppress it, tried to act non-
chalant, not too eager. My throat was dry; my voice faltered.
“I . . . I want that, too.”
A smile split his lips. “What a woman wants . . . I want also.
Your place or mine?”
“Yours,” I said, giving him a return smile.
116 / Sydney Molare

* * *
I followed him to his apartment. I was happy to see it was an
upscale complex; no need to worry about the Miata. He parked
and rushed back to open my door. I grabbed my purse and took
his outstretched hand.
As we rode the empty elevator to the seventh floor, hands
brushed and lingered with promises. A kiss was placed behind
an ear, a squeeze made on tight buttocks, a finger run across a
tented front. By the time the elevator door opened, my legs
closely resembled thick ropes of cooked spaghetti as I exited in
front of him.
A key was inserted into the lock, and the door sprang open.
I eyeballed the layout briefly before Tommy turned me into his
arms, pushed me against the door, bruised my lips with the
force of his kiss. I reciprocated fully. His fingers tap-danced
down my neck to my breasts. Fingers grabbed and released,
plucked tight nipples through silk. I sighed into his mouth be-
fore cupping the outline of his sex. The room whispered with
the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, moans rumbling deep in
throats, and fabric sliding on fabric.
With lips still melded together, a hand was placed beneath
my knees, and I was lifted into the air. He strode down a hall-
way and through a door—to his bedroom. I could smell the
masculinity in the room. He lay me down gingerly and then
turned me over. I wondered what he would do next . . . but not
for long. His fingers pulled at my zipper, slid it slowly down
my back.
Tommy’s breaths increased in frequency; I smiled in the
moonlit darkness.
His hand lingered on my butt before spreading the silk and
the straps from my shoulders. The dress moved down my body
like well-oiled machinery—no hitches. I was left only in lacy
white pantalets. He teased them from me slowly.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 117

A drop of perspiration fell onto my back; my skin sucked

the moisture in.
I heard the rustling of him removing his clothes. I didn’t
turn over to watch but waited for him to rejoin me. A knee
dipped the bed. His fingers teased up my back to my neck. The
brief contact made me grit my teeth in blissful agony. The fin-
gers stiffened, began a circular rotation on my upper back.
They kneaded, rubbed deliciously across my muscles. Oil was
dripped down my spine and blown upon. It heated, created a
mini inferno on my skin. My ass lifted, begged to be included.
Tommy ignored it and massaged the oil into my back. He was
definitely a masseuse!
His lips found my ear and blew into it; I pressed my clit into
the bed. His tongue followed; I gripped the spread. He nipped
my neck; I opened my mouth, gulped air. His hands slid be-
neath me and plucked my nipples; my hands massaged his
arms. His tongue trailed down my back to my hips; my body
clenched as he kissed the cheeks.
The oil returned. It dripped across my hips and then down
the valley between. He straddled me. His cock lay against me.
My legs opened slightly, allowed the cock to dip between them.
His hand began massaging my hips, light and then firm.
His tongue was in the curve of my back. I trembled. “Well,
well, well, what do we have here?” Tommy whispered against
my hips. I trembled more.
I couldn’t reply as his tongue slid down into my valley . . .
and lower. My cheeks were spread. His wet tongue traced around
and around before flicking across the entrance.
Oh, the sensations!
My trembling legs opened, gave him full access. His tongue
flicked across a few more times before it pressed inside. I moaned,
shot onto my elbows, lifted my ass. His tongue swirled, stabbed
at the virgin tissue. My pussy snapped, gushed from his anal
118 / Sydney Molare

ministrations. His fingers filled that beseeching orifice. I bucked

from the double onslaught.
More fingers pressed into me; more pussy lubricant re-
sulted. His thumb found my clit; his tongue stabbed deeper. I
wanted to cry, wanted to sing as his lips, his tongue, his fingers
annihilated me. Left me breathless, strung tight as a bow.
The lips, tongue, and fingers were removed. My body cried
for their return. I heard the crackle of plastic before the ap-
pendages resumed where they had left off.
My nerves hummed with anticipation . . . anxiety. I needed
to be filled. Needed to be stroked, pumped, pistoned into. I gy-
rated my ass and was rewarded. Tommy lifted, grasped a thigh
in each hand, and pulled backward, propelled me to my knees.
His cock wasted no time filling my pussy. It wasn’t as large as I
craved, but it filled me up nicely.
Tommy pumped slowly at first. The pleasure-pain was ex-
cruciatingly delicious as he withdrew an inch at a time before
pushing back into me inch by inch. My pussy groped, sucked,
grabbed at his dick, bathed it in slippery lovers’ juice.
I tried valiantly to match his strokes, let him set the pace,
when my pussy’s innate rhythm took me over. It forced my
hips to clench and swirl, forced my legs and arms to thrust
backward on the dick faster and faster. Forced Tommy to pis-
ton forward into me, match me pounding thrust for pounding
thrust. My hips slapped against his belly; his balls slapped against
my clit as we bumped, humped, grinded, and swerved toward
the same goal. I reached between my legs and squeezed the
juice-covered balls. Tommy kicked into high gear.
I was so into this shit now! I released his balls, arched my
back, and bucked him. The sound of bodies slapping against
each other reverberated around the room. When I Kegeled him,
his breath faltered, body stiffened. In seconds, a roar of, “God-
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 119

damn! Goddamn! Goddamnnnnnnn!” split the air as he spasmed,

hands melding my hips to his dick.
His reaction made the pinpricks zip from my feet to my
nub. I detonated. My clit sprayed; my pussy squirted cum. We
slumped onto the bed.
Spent.
 6

I woke to lips on my earlobes and hands roaming up my belly

before fingers tugged at my nipples. Tommy’s breath drifted
across my cheeks and down to my breasts. My hands reached
behind me, roamed up and down his legs, his hips. His fingers
moved from my nipples and flitted into my belly button be-
fore, tangling in my bush, where they stroked and massaged
and then landed on my clit. I moaned and undulated on him. I
felt his dick rising, poking into my hips.
Tommy’s fingers rubbed and plucked at my clit. My hands
squeezed his ass before nestling between our melded bodies
and cupping his dick. My fingers slid lightly up his rod and en-
circled the head. I felt his pre-cum and lubed his long shaft. He
grabbed my face, stuck his tongue down my throat, bathed my
tonsils in his saliva.
I gasped as a finger entered me. Tommy left my mouth and
attached his succulent lips to my breast. He suckled. The sensa-
tion felt like a hot wire was connected between my nipple and
my clit. I moaned and coated his finger in juice.
Tommy shifted and laid me down on my back before he
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 121

lifted over me. His finger never left my pussy. Instead, more
fingers joined the first. My legs splayed wider, my gut clutched,
my pussy leaked like a half-opened faucet. Tommy kissed
down my chest and my abdomen to my pubis. His teeth pulled
lightly at my bush.
My body was overheated, on fire with desire. I rubbed his
head, gyrated my hips, guided him toward my mother lode.
Just as I thought he would lick my yearning clit, he lifted and
rolled me onto my stomach. I felt shortchanged . . . but only
for a moment. He spread me wide before letting his breath flut-
ter across my ass. His tongue trailed across my cheeks and lower
to my pussy. I felt his fingers spread at my opening. Then . . .
his tongue surged into me. I yelled into the night as his long
oral muscle overtook me, melted any resistance I might have
had.
My body now hunched and rotated with abandon on his
lapping tongue. I mewled like a kitten as he slurped my cum
rum, stabbed and probed me with his mouth dick. Without a
thought, I flipped onto my back and said, “You, on top. Now!”
Tommy didn’t hesitate but turned and positioned himself over
me. I wasted no time pulling the fat love pop into my mouth. I
held on to the head as I licked up one side and down the other.
I felt the moan rumble through Tommy’s body. I fisted the
shaft before pulling it into my hot, wet mouth.
“Shit!” Tommy yelled.
I sucked his head methodically, tongue coating it sufficiently
with my saliva, before I pulled him deeper. Then I began pump-
ing on it slowly . . . excruciatingly slowly. The head swelled far-
ther. I felt it plump out, fill my mouth more.
Tommy spread my legs wider, lifted my pussy into the air.
He ground his mouth on my clit, slipped a finger into my wet
snatch, and . . . in my ass. I growled around his dick and pumped
with abandon against his hand and mouth. My actions made
him hornier. He fucked my mouth, his dick sliding easily down
122 / Sydney Molare

my lubricated throat, kissing my tonsils. I gagged a little but

held on to the pumping, pulsing dick. This action was worth a
sore throat!
My fingers found his anus and stroked across the opening.
Tommy’s hips clenched; his pumping became erratic. He bit my
clit, and my grinding went ballistic—herky-jerky, cum sliding
back into my bush. We were both ready to explode!
I stuck a finger inside his ass. Tommy howled before he gave
me three deep pumps, tensed up, and spurted his salty cum
down my throat. This set me off! I pointed my pussy toward
the ceiling and bounced his face off me as my nerve endings
hummed, sizzled, and then popped! I screamed and squirted
his face. He held on and lapped and lapped and lapped. . . .
As we came off our fuck high, he rolled off me and lay there,
panting. I giggled as I saw his open mouth breathing and his
juice-covered face. “What’s funny?” he asked.
I smiled in the semidarkness. “Oh, just thinking about how
little ole me . . . could make a grown man scream,” I said.
Tommy lifted his head and eyed me a moment before he
smiled, too. “Yeah, you did that. I hope I didn’t sound like a
girl.”
“Babe, if a girl sounded like you, her name was Malcolm.”
We both cracked up at that.
 7

It’d been five months, and Tommy Shapiro—yes, I learned his

last name—and I had been dating on the regular. I couldn’t have
asked for a more attentive lover. He was thoughtful, creative,
adventuresome, and, most importantly, he thought my pussy
was the mother of all pussies! I loved how he didn’t want to be
up under me all the time. He understood that I needed breath-
ing room and gave it to me whenever it was needed.
Honestly? I was starting to really dig this man here. Really.
He had me rethinking all the negatives I’d previously had about
relationships. Maybe I was still into the “couples” thing. Maybe
the ménage à trois fantasy I’d had was just borne of being with
the wrong men who didn’t take my mind and body . . . there. I
don’t know. I just knew I was feeling Tommy more than I’d felt
a man in a long-ass time.
In fact, my parents were coming to town to spend Thanks-
giving Day with me, and I asked him to meet them. That was a
huge step for me. My parents hadn’t met any men I’d dated
since college. I’d learned the hard way you just don’t trot out
the men you are sleeping with unless the relationship is going
124 / Sydney Molare

somewhere. Too many questions asked later I didn’t want to

answer.
I vacuumed the living room before I loaded the dishwasher.
I checked on the turkey and then glanced at the clock. I had
two hours before my folks showed up. The bird should be
coming out of the oven just as they arrived. I then headed for
the shower. Tommy would be here any minute. He had two
calls—what lonely fuck gets a massage on Thanksgiving?—and
I might have to “stroke” out some work tension or something.
I wanted to be prepared, just in case.
I showered, lotioned, spritzed, and styled my hair, while
watching the minutes tick by . . . with no Tommy in sight. I di-
aled his cell phone, and his voice mail picked up immediately. I
left a message anyway. I waited and waited and waited. Where
the hell was Tommy? With only thirty minutes until my par-
ents’ arrival, I finally put on my clothes. Wasn’t gonna be no
sex right now.
As I checked the turkey one last time, the doorbell rang. I
was hoping Tommy had finally made his arrival. I opened the
door eagerly, a smile plastered on my face . . . and saw my par-
ents. My disappointment must have been clearly evident be-
cause my mother said, “Sonata, what’s wrong?”
I bounced back quickly and replaced the smile on my face.
“You’re early. I was just surprised. That’s all.”
“Oh.” They both looked at me oddly.
“Really! Come on in. Let me have your coats.” We hugged,
and I bustled around, trying to make up for the faux pas I’d just
committed.
After I got them settled and checked on the food, I walked
back in and saw my mother running her hands across the fire-
place mantel. “You’ve done some redecorating, I see,” she said,
nodding slowly and glancing around the room.
That was an understatement, because the last time she had
been here, I was moving in and had only a couch and a bed-
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 125

room set. The apartment was now completely furnished to my

eclectic taste . . . which was a definite clash with their conserva-
tive, traditional one. What was new? “Just a little of this and a
little of that,” I responded. “You like?” I asked, knowing she
already hated it, but I wanted to hear her “politically correct”
answer.
“It’s . . . it’s . . .” She waved her hands in the air but had dif-
ficulty finding the correct adjective. “It’s . . .”
“Wonderful,” my father answered. “You’ve come a long
way, baby. If you like it, I love it,” he finished, eyes twinkling.
“Now, where is this young man of yours?”
Question of the night. I smiled brightly before replying,
“He’ll be here shortly. He had to work today, so I guess he’s
just running late.”
“Let’s hope he gets here soon. I’d hate for us to start without
him, but the dinner must go on. We’ve got a train to catch at
eight o’clock,” my father said with his off-brand kind of
humor.
I didn’t see anything humorous about it. I excused myself
and ducked into the bedroom and dialed his cell-phone number
again. Voice mail. I tried his apartment. Answering machine. I
left a message both places and then returned to my parents.
After an hour of chatting about home and people I barely
remembered, my father cleared his throat. “Honey, I don’t
know where your friend is, but let’s get this dinner started, and
he can just get a plate when he comes in.”
My face reddened, but I knew he was right. We couldn’t just
sit around waiting for Tommy, hoping he’d show up. Besides, I
couldn’t stand it if he didn’t come and they left without eating
at all. I sat the dishes on the table, praying all the while that
Tommy would ring the doorbell.
Didn’t happen. We ate, talked, and I finally saw them out at
seven with no Tommy in sight. Thankfully my parents never
asked another question about him. After they left, I stomped
126 / Sydney Molare

around the apartment, cussing and fussing with myself. My

emotions swung from halfway worried that something bad had
happened to being pissed at his whole no-show act. I tried the
cell phone and apartment phone repeatedly with the same re-
sults: no answer. By midnight, I had settled on one emotion—
rage.
I paced around the apartment in my sexy-just-for-my-
damn-self underwear, since I’d long ago stripped out of my
clothing. I found a pack of cigarettes left from some party or
another and began smoking them in multiples—one in each
hand—and opened a bottle of zinfandel I’d stashed for a special
occasion. I gagged, coughed, and wheezed but continued to
smoke until none were left and the bottle was drained. After I
passed the hall mirror and realized that the spike-haired,
crazed-looking woman was me, I went to bed.

Tommy called me early the next morning. My head was

pounding as the phone shrilled beside me. I groggily reached
for it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby. I thought you would be awake by now,”
Tommy said, no apology in his voice.
My pissed state came back in full force. “Tommy, where
have you been?” I asked nastily.
“Whoa! What’s all this?”
“Did you forget about yesterday?” I couldn’t wait to hear
his explanation.
“No. I just got held up, that’s all,” he responded calmly.
“Got held up? All night?” I retorted.
I heard him take a deep breath. “A client of mine had some . . .
trouble, and the situation was intense. I stuck around to see it
through.”
“And you couldn’t call to tell me you couldn’t make it? I
called you half the night, worried out of my mind!” I shouted.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 127

“I wanted to call, but, like I said, the situation was intense,

and I didn’t have the chance.” He still spoke calmly.
Now, I don’t know about anybody else, but I’ve got a man-
bullshit radar that is rarely wrong, and right then it was telling
me Tommy was lying his ass off. I’d called until midnight.
Unless the client was threatening suicide, I couldn’t imagine
what could be so “intense” . . . unless it was sex. This thought
made me see red. “Listen, I’ll talk to you later,” I said through
clenched teeth.
“Wait a minute. Let’s get together today. I don’t have a client
scheduled, so let’s just make up for yesterday today,” he of-
fered.
Oh, now he had time for me. “Yeah, well I’ve got something
planned today. We’ll just have to see each other some other
time.” That’ll show him!
Tommy was quiet for a moment; then he said, “Fine. Talk
with you later.”
I hung up, jubilant that I’d stood up for myself . . . but mad
because I really wanted to see him.
Shit.
 8

The phone was ringing off the hook! Morning, noon, and
night, ring, ring, ring. My brushing Tommy off must have made
him realize I wouldn’t put up with foolishness for some dick.
Hell, a woman can get dick any time she wants. He needed to
recognize I could give away more than he could ever get!
I ignored him the first week, and the calls still kept coming.
My answering machine was full of hang-ups and sweet, plead-
ing messages. The anguished words tugged at my heartstrings,
but I held my ground. I would never again be an afterthought!
Another week went by before I decided he had learned his les-
son. I answered his next call.
“Sonata?” he asked tentatively.
“Yeah,” I replied in a bored tone.
“Umm . . . how have you been?”
“Not too bad,” I assured him. “And yourself?”
“I definitely can’t say the same,” Tommy responded. He
took a deep breath. “Sonata . . . I’m sorry for what happened
on Thanksgiving.”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 129

Me, too. “Uh-huh,” I answered in an offhanded manner.

“Why don’t we start over, see if we can recapture that magic
we had. . . .” Tommy left the sentence open.
“Why?” I asked, not ready to give in so easily. I was worth
working for!
“Because . . . I care for you. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, thinking
you are feeling hurt from my actions. I swear, I didn’t mean to
not call, but—”
“I know, the situation was . . . intense,” I finished for him.
“Yeah, it was. But I was thinking that if we go back to say,
Video, we could find us again,” he finished in a whisper.
Just saying the name “Video” made my pussy leak. We’d
never returned, much as I’d wanted to. Somehow he’d never
mentioned it again . . . and I’d punked out and never asked. But
I wanted, no, loved seeing another person fucking or getting
fucked. Wanted to see the expressions of desire . . . wanted to be
the voyeur I’d never known I was. I now had another chance.
This made me say, “What time?”
“Y—you’ll go?” he asked, surprise evident in his voice.
“I said I would. What time?” I repeated. I craved the Video
experience again.
“Four o’clock. Is that good for you?”
I didn’t have anything planned but washing my hair, so I
was game. “Four o’clock, it is. And, Tommy . . . don’t be late.”
“Believe me, I won’t be,” he finished.

Tommy arrived at three forty-five on the dot, a shit-sorry,

limp smile in place. His eyes drank me in, and I posed, allowing
him to view my entire being. It had been a while since he’d seen
me, so I’d dressed in something sexy, let him know what he was
missing. The sweater was low-cut and the pants tight, outlining
my plump ass. Tommy gulped as I turned to grab my coat. I
leaned seductively over the chair, giving him a bird’s-eye view
130 / Sydney Molare

of my rear curvature. His pants were bulging when I turned

around, and he was licking his lips. I ignored his reaction and
said, “Ready?”
I saw the lusty thoughts zip through his mind. I smiled and
held out my hand for his. He took it in silence and followed me
out.
We rode to Video in my Miata. I felt too . . . free to ride in
the stuffy Crown Vic. Tommy must have been feeling free also,
because his natural savoir faire seemed to return in the car.
Neither of us began a conversation. Instead, our hands spoke
for us as one roamed across my exposed chest and I recipro-
cated with a crotch squeeze. My clit jumped and pussy weeped
as fingers stroked my clit through tight pants. Bad as I hated to
admit it, this man had me turned out!
Finally Video was in sight. I sprang from the Miata, not
waiting for him to open my door. It was evident he was just as
anxious as I was. We nearly trotted to the entrance, our hands
brushing as we both pushed the buzzer. The peephole slid
open, and a familiar voice asked, “Password?”
Tommy replied, “Sexaholic,” this time.
The same guy, Sims, opened the door and ushered us in.
Once again he checked up and down the sidewalk before he
turned and bowed before me and then brushed my hand across
his lips. I giggled.
“Well, well, well, back again,” Sims said, staring at me over
his sunglasses.
“Yes, we are,” Tommy answered, pulling me from Sims’s
grasp.
Our eyes held a moment before he shifted his to Tommy.
“What will be your pleasure this time?”
Tommy eyed me a moment. “I don’t know. . . .”
Sims trained his eyes back on me. “We have some . . . unique
stuff, too—same, retro, fetish, twisted . . . or a combination of
the above.” His eyes bored into mine.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 131

The code talk made my head swim. I had some idea, but
then again, I really didn’t. All I did know was I wanted to see
somebody fucking someone sometime soon!
“Let’s try retro . . . fetish,” Tommy finally answered.
I knew what a fetish was, but the retro threw me. I gave
Tommy a questioning look. He shrugged. Sims slapped him on
the back and said, “Hmph. Good choice. That one is interac-
tive, too. Soundstage Seven. Enjoy.”

We traveled back down the same hallway until we stood in

front of a door with a 7 painted on it. Warm air whooshed out
as my eager hand opened the door. The layout was identical to
the previous room we had visited. Not many couples were in-
side, just a few men and a lone woman. From the bald skull and
gray hairs, I wondered if maybe Tommy had chosen wrong, if
we could switch rooms if this one was a dud.
Tommy read my face and said, “Let’s just see. I’ve never
been in here either.”
I kept silent as the lights dimmed and the curtain rolled
apart. The setting was a bare stage with a bench set in the mid-
dle of it. The bench was unique in that it had bars rising from
the seat and a tray in front of it. I wondered if this was some
baby playacting shit. Not that I’m against playacting . . . I just
didn’t like the idea of somebody wanting to be a baby and hav-
ing sex. Just didn’t seem . . . normal. But, then again, Video
wasn’t a normal place.
A robed figure walked from the side, the spotlight catching
them halfway across. I saw it was a middle-aged brunette. The
woman walked to the bench, straddled it, and sat down. I
looked around, expecting a man to walk from the side and join
her, but no one came. She removed the robe, and humongous
breasts were revealed. Somebody gasped; a few men sat up
straighter and scooted to the edges of their seats. I leaned for-
ward for a better look myself.
132 / Sydney Molare

The cameras panned to her extensive chest. The pendulous

breasts puddled at her waist, stretch marks evident, nipples like
saucers. One thing was for sure, no one had used the adjective
“perky” on them in some time.
I glanced at Tommy, a request to change rooms on the tip of
my tongue. It was obvious that “retro” meant older and the
fetish was either huge breasts or older women. Neither of them
did a thing for me . . . so I thought.
The woman licked her fingertips before massaging the wet-
ness into the huge nipples. Surprisingly my pussy began to leak
as those huge nipples contracted and then elongated until they
were three-inch, pointed darts that begged to be licked, nib-
bled, sucked.
Tommy’s hand slid into the top of my sweater, plucked at
my own nipples. My skin flushed, aureoles tightened, stretched
as his fingers massaged them. A firecracker exploded in my
cunt as he pinched the sensitized tips. I flinched as sparks
showered from my clit; I felt the saliva collect in my mouth as
the woman then lifted her heavy breasts and placed them on the
tray. With a smile on her face, she turned toward us and said,
“Anybody wanna suck?”
A moan escaped from my throat, not because I wanted to
suck her titties—maybe I did; I didn’t have time to figure it
out—but because of the way she said it. Her voice was deep,
rough—fuckable.
The lone woman beat the men to the stage.
I rolled in my seat, felt the juice pouring from my lips, soak-
ing my panties as I watched the woman shed her clothing, her
breasts bouncing in the air. Tommy wasted no time unrolling
his dick from his pants, pulling my hand over it. I tangled my
fingers in his bush, stroked base to tip as I watched the action,
was rewarded when pre-cum leaked onto my nimble fingers. I
coated my fingers in the expected moisture before I vised his
shaft and rubbed upward. Tommy lurched, his hand covering
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 133

mine, choreographing my movements—squeeze the base, pull,

stroke the tip. I followed his lead and smiled as he grunted and
pre-cum flowed copiously over our doubled hands.
Tommy was ensnared as I slowly navigated my lips with my
tongue. I saw his chest still as I dipped my head to his love
stick. I lapped at the pre-cum before I engulfed the head, suck-
ing slightly. Tommy wheezed, wrapped his hand in my hair as I
slid my lips lower onto his cock. I sucked inward, drawing my
tongue up the side as I moved upward. Then reversed . . .
slowly.
“Baby, what are you trying to do to me?” Tommy uttered in
a low voice.
My clit was on fire, nipples throbbed as I swirled and sucked
his cock. My hands trailed my hot lips; I felt him swelling, puls-
ing beneath me. I began pumping rapidly.
“Shit!”
Tommy slid down my zipper, yanked pants from hips,
buried fingers inside my folds. My body clenched as he twid-
dled my clit. I felt my lips open, rain honey onto his magical
fingers. I sucked with relish, felt fingers plunge inside my folds
in response.
Tommy pulled me from his cock and spread my legs wide
before dipping his head into my bush. His goatee scratched my
inner thighs, and I opened wider, allowed him ample area as he
seated his mouth on my clit. Oh, the feel of his tongue, his
mouth as they lapped and sucked. His fingers pumped inside
me, filling that hole. I bit my lips, clamped down on a scream as
the sensations swirled all over my body. My legs involuntarily
closed, locked Tommy’s head in place as he lapped and sucked.
He shifted, moved lower still.
I lifted from my seat as he rubbed his goatee into my cheeks
before he circled my lower hole with his tongue. My body felt
as though it was about to burst as he created a fiery path with
his tongue, dragged it back and forth between the two holes.
134 / Sydney Molare

My legs trembled, body shook uncontrollably as a finger slowly

pressed into this flesh. I grasped the digit, pushed it within . . .
deep. Home.
Tommy lifted, turned me over . . . pulled me onto his puls-
ing dick. I jumped and bucked. He bucked me back. I was
slung over the row of seats as he stood on tiptoe, hit my center.
I grinded and rotated, rammed backward onto his cock. My
sweater was yanked down, breasts released, bobbing into the
air. I grasped the armrests to steady myself; uttered unknown
words as the sound of front thighs slapping back thighs rang in
the air and my tits bounced erratically. Tommy’s hands were
everywhere—breasts, clit, ears, ass—as he love-pounded me.
My pussy clenched, grasped, sucked with relish.
My entire body tensed, clenched with the need for release. I
couldn’t help myself. Tommy and I both screamed as my body
stiffened and his cock head mushroomed; we both exploded in
ecstasy.
 9

We were definitely back on track. With both of us being busy

people, a conscious effort was made to spend our weekends to-
gether, and we made the most of them. Video was a frequent
destination. I was hooked on our bimonthly trips there, and we
always chose a new . . . variation whenever we went. I will
admit that our last trip made my old hopes of a ménage à trois
resurface.
Tommy had chosen “same . . . anything goes.” You may have
guessed that same is “same sex” and anything goes means what
it says: people doing anything you willingly let them do to you.
Of course, because Tommy chose, same meant a lesbian feast.
Tommy was open to many things, but gay male sex wasn’t one
of them. And that was good because I’m sure my opinion of
him would have shot into the shady zone. Honestly I wasn’t
feeling his choice, because no dick was involved, but I went
along with it and kept an open mind.
I tell you, after watching that video shoot, Tommy’s dick
was hard enough to cut diamonds. He fucked me raw! I can’t
say I minded, ’cause the sex was off the hook! I swear I saw
136 / Sydney Molare

stars and heard a band playing and cannons booming as we cli-

maxed together. Then he asked me the question: Would you
have a ménage à trois? He said it so innocently, like we were
talking about the weather. My response?
“We talking another woman or another man?” I asked.
Tommy’s eyebrow quirked. “What do you think? Another
woman, of course. I’m not having no man touch me! I’m not
down with no gay shit!” he huffed.
He was thinking the other person was going to be touching
both of us, so he thought it was perfectly fine for another
woman to touch me, but not another man touch him. I see. His
skewed thinking pissed me off. “What’s wrong with another
man? Besides, he won’t be there to touch you, he’ll be there to
fuck me,” I retorted.
He backed up. “Girl, have you lost your mind? There is no
way I plan to watch another man putting his dick up in your
snatch.”
I took a step forward, crowded his space. “But it’s a great
idea to watch you put your dick in another woman’s snatch.”
The puzzled look on his face told me he had no clue as to
why I had a problem with that. “Unlike your crazy man idea,
the woman will be there to fuck both of us. Just like the girls at
Video,” he asserted.
I knew his reaction was one to be expected, but it grated on
my psyche anyway. I took a breath before I offered a compro-
mise. “I’ll tell you what. I do yours, and you do mine.”
He frowned. “What does that mean, ‘I do yours and you do
mine’?”
I refused to back down. “It means I’ll do your female mé-
nage à trois if you do my male ménage à trois.” There. I’d said
it.
His nostrils flared. “Girl, you are crazy as hell. That shit is
abnormal.”
I couldn’t believe we’d spent all that time in numerous
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 137

rooms watching sexual variations, deviations, and perversions,

yet he was still close-minded when it came to a woman getting
hers like she really wanted it. I stared at him a moment before
stating, “We will have to table this . . . adventure because we
can’t come to an agreement.”
Disappointment bloomed on his face, but the way I saw it, if
he couldn’t do it for me, I couldn’t do it for him. We never
spoke about it again.

I know I said that things had gotten back on track, but

Tommy’s actions over the Christmas/New Year’s holiday let
me know that wasn’t true at all. Because Christmas fell on a
Saturday—our normal hook-up day—I expected to see him as
usual. Besides, he hadn’t told me anything different, and we’d
talked the Thursday before. Usual week.
I’d window shopped for weeks before I found the perfect
gift for him. I’d had it wrapped and couldn’t wait to give it to
him. It had been a long time since I’d shopped for a man, and I
found that I’d missed the experience.
On Christmas Day, I dressed my sexiest best, waiting for him
to come over. I’d cooked the holiday favorites—chicken and
dressing, candied yams, chocolate cake, yeast rolls—and deco-
rated from top to bottom. A small platinum tree was adorned
with red bows, the room smelled of pine needles, and Christmas
favorites played on the stereo. Everything was just right. I
waited expectantly.
As three o’clock approached, I decided to find out what was
taking him so long. There was no answer at his apartment or on
his cell phone. I left messages both places; a frisson of unease
passed down my spine. Déjà vu.
I ate dinner by myself at six, still hoping the dread I was now
feeling would be erased by Tommy’s arrival. I called again at
eight o’clock. No answer either place. I searched my mind to
figure out if he’d said he was spending the day with his family.
138 / Sydney Molare

But try as I could to convince myself otherwise, I knew he’d

not told me that.
Tommy finally called at ten o’clock. I was irritated, and it
showed in my voice.
“Hey, Sonata. Merry Christmas. How has your day been?”
he asked easily.
“You’d know if you were over here,” I snapped.
“You sound . . . funny, like something is wrong.”
Plenty was wrong, and its name was T-O-M-M-Y. But if he
wanted to act like he didn’t know, I felt it wasn’t my job to en-
lighten him. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
“O . . . K,” he answered, unconvinced. We both were silent
after that. Me, waiting for him to tell me he was coming over.
Him, probably hoping I wouldn’t ask.
Tommy finally broke the silence by saying, “I was trying to
make a decision, but I see that you’re in a mood, so I’ll let you
go. Talk to you later. Bye,” and hung up the phone!
I sat in stunned muteness . . . but the curses flowed in my
head.

The day after Christmas, he called “to see if I was out of my

mood.” I wasn’t. I was pouting like a schoolgirl. He’d never
even offered an explanation of where he was at Christmas—a
special day in any country—but he was available as hell the day
after the holiday. It smacked of a consolation prize any way I
looked at it, and believe me, I viewed and reviewed it from
every imaginable angle. I passed on his offer but told him to call
me later in the week. He informed me that he had a full sched-
ule, but perhaps we could get together on New Year’s Day.
That made me feel a smidgen better, and I said I’d try to keep
my calendar open.
 10

On New Year’s Eve I decided to party like there was no to-

morrow. Shindigs were being held all over the city, and the last
thing I’d planned to do was bring in the New Year pouting be-
cause my man had to work. Ain’t that much work in the world,
girl, my mind chided me. I pushed it away, excused his actions
as part of his job.
I’d chosen to party at my favorite place, Lorenze’s, and
dressed in a festive red for the occasion. The place was packed
with bodies of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The music was
thumping and the air thick with smoke. I’d just navigated to the
bar when the deejay announced an amateur stripper contest.
The prize was one thousand dollars . . . and you could bare it
all if you wanted to!
I thought that would trip the folks up, but scores of women,
many already in various stages of undress, swarmed the stage.
They filled out the info cards rapidly, eager to show their tits
and ass to the world. A huge gong was rolled out, and the dee-
jay announced the rules: thirty seconds to strip your ass off,
and if the crowd booed, you got gonged.
140 / Sydney Molare

I perched on a vacated bar stool, interested in what the

women would do. I tried not to laugh as the first contestant—a
young woman well into her cups—grinded the air off-rhythm
and then stumbled and fell as she tried to pull her shirt over her
head. The gong rang loudly. The second and third were no bet-
ter. The second looked like she’d hooked one year too long—
garish makeup, drooping breasts—and the third was definitely
somebody’s grandmother. . . . You get the picture.
Now, the fourth contestant had it going on. She strutted to
the edge of the stage and shimmied her ass to the floor while
unzipping her dress. A male patron pushed to the edge of the
stage and held out dollar bills. This energized the woman, and
she rolled and ground her hips just for him. The man flailed the
bills in the air now. But when the dress dropped to the floor,
there was a telltale bulge at the front of her panties because she
was a . . . he! Boos rang across the room at that one. The gong
was banged and banged. I wondered if it was truly because it
was a male or because they’d been hoodwinked.
I’d become bored as others took to the stage without much
skill or success, when my ears perked as I overheard a loud
conversation from a group of men at the end of the bar.
“Man, I’ll bet you five hundred dollars you don’t have the
balls to go up there!” a spike-haired man said to a well-buffed
hunk.
Interesting, indeed. The tall golden hunk held my attention
by his chest span alone. He was definitely a gym patron. When
he smiled, showing off strong white teeth, I was further en-
thralled.
“You mean to tell me you would waste your daddy’s hard-
earned money just to see me shake my ass onstage? You want
to see my dick that bad, man?” Golden Hunk asked. The rest of
the group hooted and hollered.
“Puh-lease. My dick has been bigger than yours since birth!”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 141

Spike Hair retorted. The group oohed at the low blow. “You
talk a lot of shit, but let’s see if you can back up some of that.
Cassahova ain’t scared, is he?” Spike Hair challenged.
“Hell, naw! I’m all they say and more!” Golden Hunk as-
sured him.
“Prove it,” Spike Hair urged, waving the hundred-dollar
bills under his nose.
Golden Hunk sat his drink down and said, “Watch this
shit.”
He strode to the stage and filled out a card. He then stood
behind the last of the few remaining women, waiting for his
turn. The deejay had something else in mind.
“Ladies, we have a treat for you! It seems we have a real
male who wants to strut his stuff! Let’s welcome Felix to the
stage!” The women whooped and clapped loudly. The gay pa-
trons stood on tables and gave catcalls.
Felix began a slow grind from his position at the back of the
line when Prince’s “Insatiable” blasted from the speakers. He
gyrated as he glided to center stage, hips making promises all us
women hoped he could keep. Felix unbuttoned his shirt teas-
ingly slowly before he licked his fingers and rubbed them on
his hairy nipples. I had to moan at that. I heard others moan
with me.
He turned, his body liquid sex, and pulled the shirt from his
pants. My mouth went dry as his well-toned, muscular back
was revealed. He dropped the shirt to the floor. There was a
minor ruckus as women fought for the material. I saw Felix
smile at the women, and then his hands were on his zipper.
I held my breath as he undid the button at the top and slid
his pants open. The gay parade went ballistic. They were stand-
ing, clapping, and yelling for him to “Take it off! Pull it out!”
Felix squatted, leaned backward—one arm on the ground—and
pumped the air with his pelvis. All the women were whistling
142 / Sydney Molare

and screaming now. I didn’t know about them, but I definitely

hoped he wanted to bare all! The jealous men booed. The
women screamed louder. It was wild in here!
When the standing people blocked my view, I stood on the
rung of my bar stool to see the action. Felix had rolled onto the
floor and was humping it rhythmically. My pussy wept, sent
out a pheromonic message old as time as I watched his butt rise
into the air and his chest muscles clench. Felix then stood and
kicked off his shoes. His hands were at his waistband, and I fer-
vently hoped his dick would be standing at attention when he
dropped his pants.
The pants were slipped down thick thighs a centimeter at a
time. My nipples tightened shamelessly; my tongue wanted to
lick those bulging thighs. I couldn’t help myself as I screamed,
“Work it out, baby! Work it out!” The men around me laughed,
but I didn’t give a damn. None of them could hold a candle to
this hunk of masculinity on the stage.
Felix removed his hands from the pants, and his pants
pooled at this feet. The boxers he wore were white and fit like a
glove. He wasn’t erect like I’d hoped, but it was obvious he was
carrying heavy artillery . . . and I most definitely wished to be
his target.
He tugged at the waistband of his boxers, showed us a glimpse
of tight ass. This set the women—and men—off! A flaming gay
patron rushed the stage only to be tripped up by the women. It
was on, then! The man was fighting furiously, and the women
ganged up on him. Others in the gay parade joined, and eventu-
ally the ruckus spread as toes were stepped upon, drinks spilled
accidentally, and unseen hands touched the wrong people. The
bouncers tossed people right and left, trying to restore order.
Exit, stage left!
I shoved on the backs of the slow-ass people in my need to
get outside. They moved slowly—some bottlenecking, others
hoping order would be restored and Felix’s strip would re-
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 143

sume—but picked up speed as a glass flew over our heads and

shattered behind us.
Eventually we were on the sidewalk. I chuckled in the cold
air. We didn’t make it to midnight, but the year was coming in
with a bang anyway. I strolled toward my car, eyes ever watch-
ful around me. Just as I clicked the remote lock, I heard, “Pssst.
Pssst.” I jumped a foot as a deep voice said, “Hey, over here.”
Common sense dictated that I enter the car as rapidly as I
could . . . and I did. But just as I cranked the ignition, someone
tapped on my window. I screamed. Then I realized it was the
Felix guy that had just been stripping onstage. I let the window
down a few inches and asked, “Yes?”
“I’ve lost my friends, so could you give me a ride?” His eyes
pleaded with mine. I glanced downward, saw he was clad only
in his boxers. He saw the direction of my eyes and without me
asking said, “They got all my clothes. Left me in only this.” His
face wrinkled in distaste as he pointed to the well-filled-out
boxers.
I had to chuckle at him. Freezing cold outside, and he was
clad only in skimpy boxers. No telling what would happen to
him if I didn’t come to his rescue. I clicked the lock open, and
he dashed across the front of the car and hopped inside. He
rubbed his hands together briskly. “Thank you so much!” he
said with much enthusiasm.
“You’re welcome,” I replied.
He gave a few more rubs before he held out his hand and
said, “I’m Felix—”
“I know,” I said, cutting him off.
He gave a faint smile. “Caught my striptease, huh?”
And that big dick of yours, too. “Yeah,” I answered, shaking
his hand. “I’m Sonata. First time at Lorenze’s?”
He nodded. “Yes. First time, and I leave almost buck naked
as a baby.” We both cracked up at that.
After the laughter died down, I asked, “Where to?”
144 / Sydney Molare

“I’m over on Bryant. It’s pretty quick if you take I-26 and
exit—”
“I know where it is. It’s on my way to work,” I interrupted.
“Cool.”
We continued to make conversation as I pulled into the
heavy traffic. I had to brake hard a few times to avoid the
drunken revelers, but eventually we were on I-26. Felix kept up
a steady stream of information.
“I’m a lab technician at County Memorial Hospital,” he in-
formed me.
“Really. I’m the senior veterinarian at Dogs Inc.”
I saw his eyebrow quirk in the semidarkness. “The big out-
fit by the Press Mall?” he asked.
“The same,” I acquiesced.
“Wow. I don’t think I’ve met a woman veterinarian before.”
“Guess that means you don’t have any pets.”
He shook his head. “Naw. Not a pet person, myself.”
I chuckled. “Everyone says that until they own one.” I took
the Bryant exit and turned to him for further directions.
“Take a right at the light, and then go two blocks down.” He
pointed. I followed his directions and soon parked in front of a
brick ranch. “Sonata, I truly appreciate this. Want to come in
for a nightcap?”
“You sure?” I asked. The ranch screamed “I’m settled,” and
my mind yelled “married with children.”
“Yeah. What? You think I’m married or something?” He
held out his hand, and no ring or telltale sign of recent-ring-
wearing was present. “See? No ring.”
I smiled at this information, but I pressed him further. “Just
because you’re not wearing doesn’t mean you aren’t married.
You could be faking it while the wife and kids are out of town
or something.”
Felix’s sincere eyes stared into mine. “If I were married,
there is no way I would disrespect my wife by not wearing my
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 145

ring. I’d want her to wear hers to tell the world she was no
longer available, and I’d do the same. That’s the kind of man I
am.”
I fairly melted. A man who believed in marriage for real?
Not just fronting about it while trying to get as much pussy on
the side as he could? I definitely needed to get to know this
dude better. “I see.”
He showed his pearly whites again and then glanced at my
car clock. “Hey, it’s almost midnight. We’ve still got five min-
utes to get a toast ready . . . bring in the New Year right,” he
whispered, eyes burning, face yearning.
Looking into his eyes, I knew I wanted that and more. Yeah,
I didn’t know him at all, but I felt like I could trust him. Then . . .
Tommy’s face swam into my mind. Damn. I wrinkled my nose
and said regretfully, “I’m seeing someone right now.”
“Serious?”
I swear, I couldn’t answer that. Tommy and I were on one
day and off the next, but I still had . . . hope. “We’re working
on that,” I answered lamely.
He nodded reluctantly. “Tell you what. How about I give
you my number, and if things change, you’ll give me a call?”
Nothing wrong with that. I fished a piece of paper from my
purse and clicked on the inside light as he wrote down his num-
ber. Our hands brushed, and electricity shot through me as he
passed back the paper. We held each other’s eyes for a few mo-
ments before I broke the contact. “Will you be able to get in-
side?” I asked, eyes trained on the house.
He was quiet for a few seconds and then replied, “Of course.
I always leave myself . . . options.” With that he gave me a
salute and exited the car. I watched as he walked behind the
house, and, in seconds, an inside light came on. I backed out to
the street and headed home as the radio announced the New
Year. Felix was all over my mind.
 11

New Year’s morning, I awoke with a song on my lips. I was ju-

bilant as I recited my new resolutions. Not even the gray skies
could dampen my spirits.
Just as on Christmas, I’d cooked a large festive meal—com-
plete with black-eyed peas—to celebrate. I was hoping Tommy
would make his arrival just after lunch. I’d thought about call-
ing him to find out but decided to wait and not show how eager
I was to see him.
I napped through the Rose Bowl parade and yawned watch-
ing the ball games afterward. Late afternoon—and still waiting
for Tommy to show—I dressed and cracked open a new novel
I’d just picked up, Sydney Molare’s Small Packages. This book
was hot! In fact, I was so engrossed in the storyline I was
shocked when I glanced at the clock and saw it was after eight . . .
and no Tommy.
My blood simmered as the unwanted but now familiar feel-
ings washed over me. I snatched the phone and punched in his
number. He answered on the second ring, sleepiness evident in
his voice.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 147

“Hello,” Tommy whispered.

“Hey, it’s Sonata,” I answered.
“Happy New Year, Sonata.” He yawned and then cleared
his throat.
“Same to you.” I cut to the chase. “So . . . what’s the deal?”
“Huh?” I heard the confusion in his voice.
I inhaled deeply. “It’s Saturday night, New Year’s night, and
we were supposed to hook up,” I explained as calmly as I
could.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”
He forgot? Forgot he was supposed to spend New Year’s
Day with his sweetheart? My pressure spiked. “You forgot,” I
repeated.
“Yeah, it’s been a long week, and I guess I was more tired
than I realized. After I saw my folks earlier, I came home and
zonked out.”
Let me get this straight. He had such a tiring week he
wanted me to believe that he couldn’t come over and hadn’t
even thought of calling me to let me know, yet he did have time
to spend with his family? My man-bullshit radar shrieked at
sonic-boom level. “I see. I’ll talk to you later,” I huffed and
slammed the phone back into its cradle. Besides, what could he
say? It was obvious that the only one in a relationship was me.
The phone rang seconds after I’d hung up. Probably Tommy.
I ignored it, fished in my purse for the scrap of paper with
Felix’s phone number on it. No reason to sit pouting when
there was another interested party available. The phone contin-
ued to shrill, and I lifted the headset and hung up without an-
swering. After a few seconds, I dialed Felix’s number.
“Yo! Yo! Yo! Happy New Year’s!” his voice boomed through
the phone in greeting. I heard music in the background and
hoped I hadn’t caught him in the middle of entertaining.
“Felix?” I asked in a low voice.
“Yeah?”
148 / Sydney Molare

“Ah . . . this is Sonata. I met you last night?” The phone

beeped, but I ignored it.
“Hey, girl! This is such a surprise! I was hoping you wouldn’t
throw a man’s number in the trash.” His exuberance was re-
freshing, to say the least!
I giggled. “Nope. Didn’t ditch the number,” I confirmed.
“Glad you didn’t. So, what’s up?”
Suddenly I felt shy as a schoolgirl. I swallowed before say-
ing, “I was wondering if you wanted to maybe . . . do some-
thing tonight.”
“Sure. How about . . .” His voice faded as my phone beeped
again.
“What did you say?”
“I said how about within the hour? I know a great place that
has a karaoke night that is off the chain. If you feel like laugh-
ing your head off and hanging out—no strings attached—I’d
like to take you.”
Now this is what I was talking about—quick and easy, no
subterfuge or fumbling around. “What time? I’m already
dressed.”
“Give me the directions to your house, and I’m on my way.”
I did so with a smile.

Felix arrived thirty minutes later. I was glad to see he was

dressed semicasually in khakis and a black sweater. I’d left on
my low-slung jeans and a sweater so we matched perfectly.
Felix held out a bouquet of yellow roses, and I smiled. Tommy
had been good, but he never remembered the little things like
flowers and candy.
“You shouldn’t have,” I gushed.
“Now, I couldn’t just show up without something to give to
a beautiful woman like you,” he replied.
“Thank you,” I responded sincerely. I held out my arms,
and he walked into them. I smelled the spicy cologne as I brushed
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 149

my lips along his cheek in a friendly peck, and we hugged. Felix

squeezed me longer than was appropriate for the occasion, but
I didn’t push away. Finally he said in a tight voice, “We’d better
get going.”
“Yeah.” I placed the flowers in a vase, and we exited.
As we rode down the elevator, I wondered what he drove. I
was hoping it wasn’t a huge Cadillac or a souped-up, hydrauli-
cally challenged jalopy. I was floored when I saw the Alfa
Romeo Spyder, and I whistled appreciatively.
“Guess you weren’t expecting that from a suburb-dwelling
lab tech, huh?”
“Definitely not,” I said, eyes still roaming over the gleaming
black metal.
“Well, keep your mind open ’cause I’m not your average
man,” he assured me.
I couldn’t wait for him to show me!
 12

Sienna’s Bar and Grill was located in a small strip mall. If you
didn’t know where to look, you would miss it completely.
Obviously others did know where to look, because the parking
lot was full. I was glad to see there weren’t the usual loiterers
outside, and because the cars were upscale and expensive, I ex-
pected the crowd to be short on the younger patrons.
Felix paid the cover, and we entered a large room with tables
spaced over most of the floor. People were dancing, and laugh-
ter tinkled in the air. We found an empty table near the far wall.
A waitress strode over, and we ordered drinks.
“This is nice,” I said, still looking around the room.
Felix nodded. “It’s pretty cool. I happened to stumble upon
it a year or so ago. The music is mixed, the food is smoking, and
the karaoke will have you screaming.”
“My kind of place, all right. Do you ever karaoke?” I asked,
interested in learning more about him.
“Naw. My pops told me a long time ago to get my education
because singing was not my forte.”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 151

“I hate to admit it, but I got a similar speech from my

mother when I was eight.” I giggled.
“Shoot, personally I think he is wrong because when I’m in
the shower, I nearly bring the house down . . . literally.”
I laughed aloud as a visual popped in my mind. Then I re-
membered something from last night. “Hey, did you get your
money?”
He frowned. “What?”
“Did your friend pay off on his bet?”
Felix grinned. “You overheard us?” I nodded. “I sure did. I
had to threaten to put his scrawny ass in a choke hold, but he
paid up.”
I grinned with him. “Guess Lorenze’s didn’t pay, though.”
He chuckled. “I called, but he said with all the damage to his
place, he just couldn’t see himself paying the person who’d
started it. So, no, I didn’t get the thousand dollars.”
“Poor baby.”
“But at least it’s a story I can tell my grandchildren.”
“Yeah, I can see you now, saying ‘I was the shit back in the
day. In fact, one time I showed my body, and the women tore
the place up! I had them on fire!’”
“It ain’t even like that!” Felix said but laughed anyway.
Oh, but it is. Baby, it is.
We talked and laughed as the waitress returned with our
drinks, and Felix ordered some hot wings. The deejay then an-
nounced the beginning of Karaoke Night. I’d seen it on televi-
sion but never actually attended one myself.
I was excited as a nervous-looking woman with hair to her
butt began a rousing rendition of Tina Turner’s “A Fool in
Love.” The crowd sang with her as she strutted to the edge of the
stage and copied Tina’s trademark shimmy perfectly. The hoots
and catcalls she received were worthy of her efforts. I clapped
along with the rest of the crowd as she finished and bowed.
152 / Sydney Molare

A pimply, stiff-looking, blond man stepped up to the mic

next. I expected something along the lines of Lawrence Welk or
Willie Nelson, but when he came with a believable cover of
Shaggy’s “Bombastic,” the crowd went wild. Felix grabbed my
hand and pulled me onto the floor. I wiggled and undulated like
an island girl as his hands skimmed my waist and he matched
my movements from behind. His pelvis touched and then
backed away teasingly. I felt life down there but resisted its
pull. The song ended with us spooned together, rocking in
sync.
We were on our way back to our seats when the deejay an-
nounced a house regular—Criss-Crossed. Felix halted me and
said, “Hold up. This is something you’ve got to see.”
We threaded our way back through the crowd to get a good
spot. Two men and one woman strode onto the stage. The men
wore baggy suits, and the woman had on a sequined short set.
Each one’s hair was slicked back, and mascara rimmed their
eyes. Interesting. The music that blasted from the speakers was
familiar: Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls.” My hips moved in-
stinctively because this song was a favorite from my childhood.
The trio’s choreographed movements were on point. A
strobe light was switched on, and the dance floor jammed. I
was surprised at the low tenor of the woman’s voice, but she
was singing her ass off! The backup singers had high falsettos,
but they blended with hers perfectly. I clapped in glee as they
playfully slapped the woman’s butt during the chorus. But
when they reached the “Toot! Toot! Beep! Beep!” part, my
mouth hung open as the suits were stripped away to reveal fe-
males, and the wig came off the woman, exposing the spike-
haired man from Lorenze’s. . . . Felix’s friend!
The crowd gave off a roar of appreciation. I gave Felix ques-
tioning looks, and he grinned back at me. We were dancing
heatedly now. Hips grinded, pelvises touched and backed away,
fingers roamed . . . wherever.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 153

The singers switched places, and the women brought it

home and the place down! I had to admit that that switcheroo
thing had just the right spice to make them stand out from the
usual. They finished the song to much adulation from the crowd.
We returned to our table, and the questions poured from my
lips.
“That was your friend from last night, right?” I asked.
“Yep. His name is Freddy Mac.” Felix had a teasing smile on
his lips. “Guess you’re wondering if I’m gay or bisexual now.”
I tried to deny it, but finally I said, “Yeah.”
“I’m not. Freddy isn’t either. He just likes to be . . . shock-
ing.”
“That he was!”
Felix laughed. “He’s been like that since we were kids. And
please don’t dare him.” He rolled his eyes.
“He’s one of those people who won’t back down from a
challenge?” I assumed.
“You’ve got him pegged correctly. He’ll do anything he
thinks won’t get him killed or jailed and sometimes some stuff
that will. Just his personality.”
“Did you know it was him up there on the stage?”
“Yeah. He’s had his group, Criss-Crossed, for years. Normally
he dresses like a man, so he must have wanted to change things
up with the drag thing tonight.”
“It was most definitely different,” I assured him.
“Yeah, it was. I’m a little surprised, but, then again, he has
those women’s noses opened wide, so I shouldn’t be.”
“What do you mean?”
Felix gazed at me a moment before answering, “Both of the
singers are his lovers.”
“What!” My eyes were like saucers.
“Yeah, he sleeps with both of them,” Felix confirmed for
me.
“They don’t mind?”
154 / Sydney Molare

“Doesn’t look like it, does it?”

I had to admit that there was no obvious tension there when
the group performed. But thinking about this made thoughts of
a two-male ménage à trois flit back into the forefront of my
mind. Freddy had his . . . so why couldn’t I get mine? “Nope, it
sure doesn’t.”
“I can’t figure out what his scrawny behind told those two
gorgeous women to make them do his bidding. I mean, what-
ever Freddy says is gold.” Felix shook his head again. “I’m
wondering if he’s sprinkling cocaine on his pole or something,
the way he has them hooked.”
“You think?” I asked playfully.
“It’s something—”
“Hey, man! I thought that was you!” a voice interrupted us.
I turned and saw Mr. Spike Hair himself, Freddy Mac. Felix
man-hugged him a second and then growled, “Two times in
one day is just too many times to see your ugly mug.”
“Puh-lease. I wouldn’t have seen you earlier if you hadn’t
threatened me with bodily harm,” Freddy responded good-
naturedly. Then he looked at me. “I know he must have kid-
napped you because nobody goes anywhere with Felix willingly.
Want me to call the police?”
I tried to hide my smile as Felix elbowed him. “Man, keep
gabbing your mouth and Shirl and Donatella will wake up in
my bed tomorrow morning.”
“In your dreams, chump, in your dreams,” Freddy said, el-
bowing him back.
“No, in theirs,” he shot back.
They laughed at each other, and then Freddy resumed talk-
ing to me. “I’m Freddy Mac, since this Neanderthal didn’t in-
troduce us.”
“My bad. Sonata, Freddy. Freddy, Sonata,” Felix announced.
We exchanged greetings, and then Freddy asked, “Did you
enjoy our show, Sonata?”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 155

“Immensely. It was definitely one of a kind.”

“That’s me, all right—one of a kind.” Freddy winked and
then said, “I’ll get out of your way and let you guys enjoy
yourself. Great meeting you, Sonata. Hope to see you again
soon.”
We ate hot wings and talked some more before we decided
to call it a night.

I didn’t feel anxious as we rode home. No flutters in my

stomach, no anticipation of sexual romping. I just felt . . . peace-
ful. Good.
Felix rode the elevator upstairs and walked me to my door. I
turned and asked the same question he’d asked me, “Want to
come in for a nightcap?”
He smiled and said, “Yeah . . . but you’re not ready for what
I really want.”
My heart thumped, and anxiety did stir within me then.
“You think?” I shocked myself by replying.
“Yep.” Felix’s eyes grew soft; fingers stroked my cheek. “I’m
not looking for a . . . casual fling with you. I know we just met,
but I sense something . . . unique . . . here, and I’d like to ex-
plore it further before we get off into the sex thing.”
I appreciated that. “I like that idea.”
“So, if you aren’t doing anything tomorrow, I’d like to hook
up—go hang out or something.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” I held his eyes, conveyed my real
thoughts to him.
Felix’s fingers roamed, and he stared into my eyes another
moment before saying, “Get inside. I won’t be responsible for
my actions if you keep looking at me like that.”
I slipped my key in the door, opened it, and closed it slowly
behind me.
 13

The knock startled me. I was surprised to see Felix still stand-
ing there. I opened the door and stared at him.
His face was serious as he spoke. “I . . . I know what I said,
but I just can’t let you go.” My breath caught as he reached for
me, pressed his sexy lips onto mine. I didn’t protest as his velvet
tongue swirled within my mouth. My hands climbed his chest,
wrapped around his thick neck, fused him to me.
I nibbled and sucked his ear; Felix licked the hollow of my
throat, nipped my chin. I exhaled deeply as tentative hands
moved down my back, massaging slowly. I closed my eyes,
breathed deeply as they moved lower, cupped my hips.
“Girl, I don’t know what it is. . . . I’m just digging the hell
out of you,” he whispered in my ear.
My hands curled upward, encased his head as I found his
mouth again. I poured all my insecurities, my disappointments
with Tommy, into that kiss. I let Felix know the sensual crea-
ture I was capable of being.
We parted and stared at each other. My heart pounded with
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 157

anticipation as I watched him, emotions playing across his face.

No words were spoken as Felix slowly rolled my sweater up
my chest and over my head.
A smile played on his lips as he stared at my bra-covered
chest. “You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”
Talk about saying the right thing. I stroked his chin before I
reciprocated, revealing that glorious chest again. I couldn’t stop
my fingers from running across his pecs, stroking his nipples,
which hardened under my touch. Feeling bold, I leaned in and
sucked a nipple into my mouth, rolled around the stiffening
button on my tongue.
“Girl, that feels so good,” Felix muttered before he re-
claimed my mouth.
Hands released my bra clasps and dragged the material from
my breasts before cupping and claiming my orbs. Felix pressed
my flesh together, sucked both nipples into his soft, hot mouth.
I leaned back on the wall, moaned as I felt his suckling down to
my clit. My hands slid up and down his back and squeezed his
ass as he alternated between nipples.
I opened my jeans, unzipped them in an unmistakable invi-
tation. Felix accepted as he kneeled, pulled them slowly from
my hips. He stared at my vee. I pulled the material taut, out-
lined my lips fully.
“Damn.”
Felix leaned in and inhaled my female scent. He parted my
legs, was dipping his head—
The ringing of my bedside phone intruded, forced my eyes
open. I was disoriented as I stared at the ceiling. Then I yanked
the phone from the cradle.
“Hello?”
“Sonata, it’s Tommy.”
What’s new? “Hey, Tommy.” I felt a headache beginning in
my temple.
158 / Sydney Molare

“I tried to call you back last night, but I guess you weren’t in
the mood or something,” he said peevishly.
“Or something” is right, and its name was Felix. “Yeah,” I
answered noncommittally.
“I’m sorry I forgot about New Year’s.” Here we go! “I want
to make it up to you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied nonchalantly.
He ignored it. “Really. I’m not busy today and wondered if
we could hook up.”
Since I’d already given Felix the OK for today, that wasn’t
possible, so I said, “I’ve already got something planned for
today. Maybe another time.”
Tommy was silent. “What’s going on with you, Sonata?”
Going on with me? He was the problem, not me! “What do
you mean?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“You always used to be available, and the last couple of
times I’ve called, you’ve brushed me off.”
I couldn’t believe he wanted to play this high school game!
Trying to swing the blame to me, when in reality it was his
fault. I refused to take the bait. “I’m available when I say I will
be. You’re the one that doesn’t show up. So why should I con-
tinue to hope you’ll fit me into your busy schedule?”
Anger inflected his voice. “It’s not like that. Things are al-
ways crazy this time of year. People want massages and give
them as gifts, so I’m always overbooked around the holidays.”
But he had time to see other people . . . just not me.
“I understand. Hey, let’s plan something for later in the
week . . . that is, if you’re not too busy,” I suggested, sarcasm
dripping from my voice.
He switched back to a conciliatory tone. “I’ll make time.
When is good for you?”
“Tuesday?” My mind ran over my schedule to be sure. “I
work late Mondays and Wednesdays, but Tuesday I’m off
early.”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 159

“Want to go back to Video?” he offered.

My pussy sputtered to life. He had his faults, but he knew
how to get back in my good graces. “Sure.”
“Tuesday, it is. Six good for you?”
That was cutting it close to when I left work, but I agreed to
it anyway. I’d just leave early and rush home to dress in time.
“I’ll be ready.”
“See you then. Bye.”
I clicked off with a smile on my face. Tommy was still feel-
ing me, no matter what his actions said.

Felix arrived just after lunch. Another bouquet of flowers

was clasped in his hands. Peonies this time. I smiled as I took
them from him, and our lips brushed before I placed them in a
vase beside the first ones.
I turned to him. “Where are we going?”
“Just hop in the car, and let’s see,” he said mysteriously.
I took his hand as we rode down the elevator and walked
out to his car. The Spyder had been gorgeous last night, but in
the daylight it was just breathtaking. He’d put the top down,
and I liked it even more.
“I should have asked if you wanted to grab a scarf for your
hair, but I forgot.”
I ran my hands through my mane and said, “Don’t worry
about it. I can always brush it out later.”
He opened the door and helped me inside. We zoomed away
with my laughter floating behind us.
Felix parked on the banks of the river. The dark waters of
the mighty Mississippi rushed by and soothed me as water al-
ways did. “You know, I love being on water.”
“Really? Did you grow up by the ocean or something?” His
eyes sparkled with interest.
I shook my head. “No. But I’ve always been drawn to large
160 / Sydney Molare

bodies of water. It calms my soul just watching the water swirl

and gush around.”
“I can take it or leave it,” he admitted.
“I’ll take it. There is something about coming home from
work, walking out, and seeing water that I believe would make
all the badness go away. When I buy a house, it will most defi-
nitely be on the water.”
“Unless you move, you’ll pay dearly for the location.”
I turned determined eyes toward him. “When it’s something
you truly want, you find a way to pay the price.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” he said, another meaning
in his eyes.
We sat for another hour in the dimming daylight before he
backed out and exited onto the highway. “Where to now?” I
asked.
“Got a little surprise for you.” He winked.
I’d found that I loved surprises, so I hushed and waited ex-
pectantly. We took the Bryant exit and retraced the route to his
house. I said nothing as he stopped in front of his ranch and cut
the engine. I took the proffered hand and followed him inside
his door. I was elated to see the elegant furnishings—polished
wood floors, leather couches, ethnic carved tables—that deco-
rated the place. It was what I’d envisioned in my own home.
Felix took my jacket and eased me onto the sofa. He clicked
on his CD player, and Hall & Oates’ “Sara Smile” wafted from
his speakers. He then walked into his large kitchen, and I
watched as he poured two glasses of wine. As he held one out
to me, he asked, “Want to see some more water?”
I was confused but said, “Yes.”
He took my hand and guided me to the French doors. He
swung them open to reveal an enclosed swimming pool with a
whirlpool spa off to the side. “This is beautiful!” I exclaimed.
The mosaic tile at the bottom gave the pool a Moroccan flair,
and the chandeliers hanging around the pool made the yard
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 161

seem like a ballroom . . . that just happened to have a pool in

the middle of the floor. I saw a wooden structure off to the side.
“What’s that?” I asked as we walked toward it.
“A sauna. I had one installed to help me . . . relax.”
I was loving this setup more and more. Felix felt my vibe
and said, “Want to try it out?”
Did I? I clapped and jumped. “Yeah. Tell me what to do.”
Felix chuckled again. “Go into the cabana, take off all your
clothes,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “and put on a robe. Then
come back out. I’ll have it set, and we’ll go from there.”
I didn’t even hesitate. I trotted over to the cabana and shut
the door. Towels and robes lined one wall. A bathroom com-
pleted the room. I disrobed and then tied the oversize garment
over me and walked outside. Felix was reclining beside the sauna.
He grinned when he saw me. “Didn’t have your size, huh?” he
joked.
“Nope, but it’ll do in a pinch,” I parried back.
“Great. Just go inside, take off the robe, and pull a towel over
your hips. You pour water over the coals in the middle to create
the steam.”
“You aren’t coming in?”
“You . . . want me to?” he sputtered.
“Yeah. What am I supposed to do in there by myself?” I
quirked my eyebrows.
“Meditate. Relax. . . . None of which you will be doing if I
come in there.”
“I know. We’ll just talk our heads off, get to know each
other better.” I smiled, offered him a no-strings friendship.
He smiled back. “OK. You go get settled, and I’ll join you in
just a few.”
I opened the door and eased my way inside the sauna. There
were three benches set around an open pit with coals in the
middle. I couldn’t figure out how Felix got things heated up so
quickly, but I imagined that the coals were fake and burned on
162 / Sydney Molare

gas because burning charcoal in a confined space would give

you carbon-monoxide poisoning.
I shucked off the robe, lay down across a bench, and pulled
a towel across my hips. I wish I could say I felt self-conscious,
but, honestly, I felt divine. The door opened, and Felix joined
me minutes later, two wineglasses in his hand.
“You like?” he asked as he handed me a glass and then sat on
the bench across from me. I’d hoped he would disrobe and I’d
see the mother lode, but he just cocked a leg up and pulled the
robe close, making sure he was fully covered.
“Very much,” I assured him while taking a sip of the cool
liquid, trying not to allow my spilling breasts to become more
visible.
He took a sip and then looked over my body appreciatively.
“Sonata, you are a very beautiful woman.”
“Thank you,” I replied graciously.
“I knew you were . . . different when we met. It’s only been
confirmed today.”
He’d read me well. “Because I helped a duke in distress?”
He grabbed a towel, covered his lap, and then opened the
robe and fanned it before responding. “That and . . . you aren’t
fake. I believe that you bring the real you to every encounter.
Not the you I want to see or that society says I should expect.”
“Glad you like my flavor,” I whispered seductively as I
stared at the outline of his sex. The sweat rolled into the hollow
of my back and pooled.
“I do. I truly do.” He locked eyes with mine. The air sizzled
with expectancy. To my amazement, as I stared, the towel
began tenting, slowly, like one of those charmed snakes. I felt
moisture collecting between my legs. I refused to meet Felix’s
eyes as I willed his dick to grow; I refused to shift my legs
closed as the pussy juice pushed at the outer lips. Felix didn’t
try to cover himself, didn’t try to act like he wasn’t getting an
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 163

erection. My nipples were on high alert. I felt the tips pushing

between the slats in the bench.
Felix’s dick pushed up, up, up . . . until the red tip was wink-
ing at me. It was larger than I’d daydreamed it would be. An
unbidden moan escaped my lips. My palms itched with the
need to wrap them around his shaft, to roam up and down
body real estate I’d never known. Felix must have sensed this.
He casually pulled off the towel and lay on his back. My
tongue hung from my mouth as I gawked at his stiff pole.
He surprised me when he held out his glass. “To new . . .
friendships.”
My hands trembled as I toasted him back and then at-
tempted another sip. The angle was oh-so-wrong, but I couldn’t
very well raise up without exposing my bullet nipples. Instead I
stretched my neck upward. Bad move. The liquid coursed
down my chin, ran a race to cross the finish line at my chest. In
my effort to stop the cold trail, I lifted from the bench, my
breasts now on open display.
“Want a towel?” Felix purred, dick aimed at me now.
“Sure,” I said, face flaming . . . body following suit.
Felix shocked me when he pulled the towel from my hips
and slid a tantalizing path up my back, over my shoulders. My
pussy began a slow burn. I moaned as he stopped in front of
me, and I got an awesome up-close-and-personal view of his
cock.
Felix kneeled and pushed the material between my breasts.
My breath caught, arms tingled. He stroked at the insignificant
amount of liquid slowly, hands grazing my skin. My pussy
juice pushed past engorged lips, dripped steadily to the floor.
He removed the glass from my unsteady hands and set it on a
shelf. His hands threaded through my hair, massaged my scalp.
“If I make love to you now, it won’t be a booty call. I’m just
feeling you and believe . . . you are feeling me, too,” he said,
164 / Sydney Molare

voice low and sincere. “If you think I’m moving too fast . . .
we’ll wait.”
I didn’t want to take time to unravel whether it was lust or
the beginnings of something more. I just knew I wanted this
man. Tonight. Here. Now. Carpe diem.
I reached my hand out, traced it across his eyes, his nose, his
cheeks. He kissed my palm, tongue licking the center as it
passed over his succulent lips, strummed across his chin. He
grasped my hand and pulled it back to his mouth. He sucked
the tip of my index finger before pulling it into his hot orifice.
My womb clenched and pelvis ground into the bench as he
moved to other digits.
His lips released the fingers; his tongue left a saliva trail as he
nipped up my wrist to the crook of my elbow, my shoulder. He
claimed my mouth, ravished it in his need. My hot hands
brushed across his hard chest, lightly pinched his berry nipples.
I sighed in his mouth as he reciprocated.
Felix stood, lifted me to my knees, and clasped me to his
body. His dick pushed into my stomach; his heart thumped in
my ear as I ran my fingers over his taut ass. The pussy juice
snaked down my legs.
“You are driving me out of my mind!” he growled low into
my hair.
I rubbed my distended nipples across his chest in response.
My hands closed around his thick head, felt the pre-cum leak-
ing. Felix shuddered as I squeezed, released, squeezed, released.
I flicked across the tip with my thumb, was rewarded with a
pump forward. His fingers dove into my pubic hair, searched
for my clit. It was my turn to shudder.
His glorious fingers captured my nub between two digits
and fiddled. I undulated from the sensation, stroked his shaft in
return. I grasped his sac, rolled his balls in my palm.
“Sh . . . shit, baby,” Felix stuttered.
His fingers slipped inside my leaking pussy, pulsed and
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 165

pumped. I blew air out of my mouth, began deeply stroking his

cock. I rolled and swirled, Kegeled and undulated on his fin-
gers. He melded his lips to mine, sucked the moisture from my
mouth as we tongue tangoed.
He pumped with gusto now. His hips clenched, fingers pis-
toned. I shifted to my feet, squatted to give him more access.
He kept his lips fused to mine as he stroked, thrust, flitted in
me, over me. I smeared his moisture in my palm and stroked
deeper. Our teeth bit, nipped, tongues licked, lips sucked over-
heated skin. I put my back into it and slammed against his stiff
fingers. He bucked beneath my hand.
Felix mashed my clit, and the needles zipped from my feet
and up my legs to my clit, where the sensations radiated through-
out my body. I yowled and howled as I bucked erratically on
his fingers. I unconsciously clenched his cock and set off his cli-
max. He bit my shoulder hard as his cum spurted and spurted
and spurted over my hand. . . .
 14

Felix didn’t speak as he cradled me in his arms and strode to-

ward the house. He laid me on a fluffy rug and then left me and
entered the kitchen. In moments he returned with a basket of
fruit.
“Thought you might be hungry.”
I was . . . but it wasn’t for fruit.
I selected a banana. We held eyes, and I winked before I
looked down at his dick and nodded. I licked up one side of the
banana and down the other. I laved it with my saliva and kissed
its length.
Felix coughed.
My teeth nibbled at the stem before I clenched it with my
teeth and broke the skin. I pulled the folds down slowly, reveal-
ing the fruit within.
Felix’s dick began rising.
I opened my mouth, placed the fruit between my lips. I
sucked the banana slowly in. I twisted it this way and that as it
disappeared an inch at a time, and then . . . I pulled it out and
repeated.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 167

Felix’s stick pulsed.

I licked the tip again and then forced it halfway back into
my mouth and bit it off. After I’d swallowed, I finished the
other half.
Felix breathed deeply in the quiet room. He then selected a
trio of cherries. He placed all of them inside his mouth and
sucked. He then pulled them back out except one . . . which he
plucked from its stem with his bared teeth.
The blood suffused my face.
His tongue vibrated across the bottom of the remaining two
cherries before he swirled them with his tongue. The cherries
glistened.
My nipples grew tight.
He sucked both cherries into his mouth and pushed them
back out repeatedly, tongue thrusting between lips.
My pussy cried viscous tears.
With one swift movement, he snatched both of the cherries
off the stem . . . and then licked his lips seductively.
We lunged toward each other. Our bodies rolled, rubbed in
our desire. He pulled me on top of him and slid me forward
until my nipples were at his mouth. He licked around the sensi-
tized tips and then covered one and sucked.
I lay with the head of his cock pressing against my clit. I gy-
rated against the head and felt it blossom even more. The pres-
sure of his lips was good, but I needed more. “Bite,” I whispered
in his ear. His teeth clamped onto the tingling flesh, and I
rocked my clit on his dick head.
Felix’s lips burned down my chest. I pushed my heavy
breast around his head. He tugged at the nipples.
My pelvis slid against the hard dick, fit it securely between
my legs. Felix moaned and rolled me onto my back. “We’re
about to get carried away.” He lifted from the floor and strode
down a hallway to my left. He returned in seconds, a silver
packet in his hands. He held it out to me.
168 / Sydney Molare

“Not yet.” I dropped the packet on the floor beside us. I

grasped his cock and, with no warning, pulled him into my wet
mouth.
“Ump” was all he could utter as I licked, nibbled, and
sucked as I’d done the banana. His body stiffened as my tongue
wet his balls and I pumped him with my hand. My cheeks
bulged as I stuffed his cock between my lips and mouth-fucked
him rapidly.
Felix grasped my head, his face scrunched. “Baby, you
gonna make me come,” he eked out between tight jaws.
“I know,” I admitted and pushed my mouth back on his
love stick, trying to resume my sucking. He stopped me.
“I want to be inside your hot, wet pussy when I do,” he ex-
plained.
I grabbed the condom from the floor and tore open the
packet. I placed the latex in my mouth and then rolled it onto
his dick with my tongue.
Felix kneeled and pressed his lips to mine. “Girl, what am I
gonna do with you?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Fuck me blind.”
He lay on his back. “Ride this dick.”
And I did. I climbed on top and slid slowly down his big-ass
cock. When I’d fitted as much as possible in me, I leaned for-
ward and rocked. He filled every inch of my pussy! I squeezed
on the outward stroke and relaxed on the inward. Tissues
strained, muscles ached as I mashed, humped, and circled on his
mighty mountain.
I needed more. I turned around and sat back on his root, felt
it going deeper. I’d swear his dick was in my stomach! But
damn! It felt good! I leaned elbows on the floor as I fucked that
dick like I owned it!
Pop! Felix spanked my ass, and I moaned and pumped. He
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 169

lifted his knees and pump-jerked me back. My ass bounced into

the air.
But when his finger wormed its way into my chocolate love
hole, I sprayed, humped, and jerked into oblivion as he
pounded into me without mercy. He spasmed and spurted sec-
onds later.
 15

Tuesday couldn’t come fast enough! My escapade with Felix

had unleashed the sex beast within, and Video was just what I
needed to quench some of the fire in my pussy.
Tommy arrived all smiles . . . until he noticed the flowers. I
refused to divulge any information. His nostrils flared, nose
twitched as I defied all his investigative attempts. He needed to
understand that I had options, too. I didn’t plan to waste away,
hoping he’d get around to me.
He insisted on driving the Crown Vic, but I refused to let it
dampen my spirits. We rode in silence. Him, wondering what
was going on with me and whomever; me, hoping he under-
stood that if he wouldn’t, somebody else sure would.
I jumped in my seat as the brownstone housing Video came
in sight. I didn’t look at him as I walked briskly to the door and
rang the buzzer. When the voice asked, “Password,” Tommy
remained silent; he stared at me. I arched a meaning-filled eye-
brow at him.
Sims repeated, “Password.”
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 171

Tommy’s visage was granite as he glared at me. He finally re-

sponded, “Fellatio.”
It was definitely time for me to get my own membership!
Sims followed his normal routine and then turned back,
smile in place. He sensed the tension between us. He pulled
down his requisite sunglasses and stared at us over the top. He
then asked pointedly, “Honeymoon over already?”
We remained silent.
He sighed. “Guess that answers my question. What is your
pleasure tonight?”
I kept quiet, waited for Tommy to answer like he always
did. Instead he remained silent, eyes glittering in the light.
Sims stepped up to the plate. “Let me suggest something to
help get your fires burning again: mono . . . anything goes. Sound-
stage Four.” He winked at me and then walked back to the door
as it buzzed.
Once again, I didn’t have a clue as to what was to come. But
from my past experiences, I was positive I could work with it
no matter what.

Soundstage Four was completely deserted. I wondered if

maybe Sims had misinformed us, but Tommy closed the door
behind us and propelled us to seats in the front row. In mo-
ments the lights dimmed and the curtain parted.
The spotlight clicked on, revealing a bronzed woman,
dressed in a sarong, sitting Indian style on a large rug. Celine
Dion’s “Have You Ever Been In Love?” began playing. My cu-
riosity was piqued.
The woman scratched a match on a box, and the match sput-
tered to life. She took her time as she lit the candles surround-
ing the rug. Then she looked directly at us as her fingers began
slowly coursing over her body. She stroked her fabric-covered
thighs like a lover would, squeezed and pressed her flat belly,
172 / Sydney Molare

and then cupped her breasts. The material peaked as her thumbs
pulled at their center. Her hands continued to travel upward
past her neck, ending at her hair. The severe chignon was re-
leased, and a river of hair floated down, reached the floor.
Tommy shifted in his seat and sat straighter.
I watched as she stood, pulled at the binding behind her
neck. When it was released, the material pooled at her feet.
The woman was magnificent. Her round breasts rode high,
and her nipples were black as night—a stark contrast to her
golden skin. Her waist indented before wide hips, and slender
thighs completed the package. She had me beat hands down.
Tommy leaned forward in his seat.
The woman held Tommy’s eyes as she palmed her breast,
brought the stiff tip to her open mouth. Her lips tugged, teeth
pulled as she suckled herself.
Tommy squirmed in his seat. I could tell he wanted to suck
on her tits himself.
Her body snaked as she ran her hands up and down her
naked flesh into her hair. A bottle was grabbed from the floor.
Oil squirted onto her skin. My clit lurched as she leaned over
and massaged it into her firm ass while still snaking her body to
the rhythm of the music.
Tommy reached for me then. He pulled me onto his lap,
cupped my breasts from behind. I felt his stiff dick pushing into
my ass, and I ground on it.
The woman turned and smiled at us now. She squatted, legs
open wide. The camera panned her shaven pubis. Her pussy
“winked,” forcing a drop of honey to the edge of her orifice.
Tommy unbuttoned my blouse and pulled my titties over
the top of my bra. His fingers played with the nipples before he
pinched them. He turned me to the side and sucked one into his
burning mouth, eyes still trained on the woman.
A box at her side was opened and a long blue dildo removed.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 173

The woman licked up one side and down the other, leaving a
saliva trail.
Scenes of the banana . . . and Felix played in my mind. I
shoved my breast farther into Tommy’s mouth. My pussy snif-
fled.
She sucked the tip before pushing two inches . . . four
inches . . . eight inches into her mouth.
Tommy released my breast, shifted me, and unzipped his
pants. My hands closed around the thick girth; I squeezed.
The dildo was now on her clit. She turned it on, the vibra-
tions barely heard over the music. Her pelvis rocketed forward
as it touched her clit. She gasped and then moaned.
Tommy lifted my skirt; fingers found my clit. I vigorously
stroked his dick.
The tip was at her pussy. She spread the lips and pushed it
inside. Deep. Both hands grasped the dildo as she fucked her-
self. She gyrated as she pumped, juice spurting out occasionally.
My pussy was sopping wet as Tommy finger-fucked me. His
hips fucked my hands with relish.
She rolled onto her back, lifted her hips into the air, and con-
tinued pushing the latex dick rapidly in and out. In and out.
Tommy stood, turned me so that I was leaning on the
stage—six feet from the woman—and spread my legs wide. He
kneeled, his tongue fused to my pussy. I clenched my ass and
moaned in ecstasy. Felix’s face flashed into my head again. I
moaned louder.
The woman was on her knees now, fucking herself furiously.
She saw us, crawled over to us, still fucking herself with the
dildo. I didn’t know what to do . . . but didn’t care either. She
stopped inches from me, eyes glazed in lust, mouth open.
“Sit up here,” she croaked.
I pushed at Tommy’s head. He resisted. I pushed again.
“What?” he said, eyes confused. I pointed to the woman. She
crooked a finger at him. Tommy beat me onstage.
174 / Sydney Molare

She pushed me onto my back. Tommy’s dick throbbed as he

watched the sex play. I wasn’t sure what she’d planned, and, in
truth, I’d never been turned on by women before. But I was
horny as hell right now. The woman leaned over me and pressed
her lips lightly to mine before her tongue parted my teeth. I
melted as her lightning tongue commandeered my mouth.
She moved from my mouth to my breast. Her fingers plucked
the stiff buttons before her lips surrounded one. Tommy’s fingers
slipped inside me and stroked. My body arched, clit engorged
from this twin assault.
I stuffed her long nipple into my mouth, was surprised at
the texture, tanginess. We licked, sucked, bit each other’s burn-
ing tips.
Tommy sucked my pussy. His tongue ran rapidly up and
down from clit to pussy. I couldn’t control myself as I ground
on his face. He pushed my legs up and spread them wide. I
mouth-fucked the nipple as his tongue laved around my anus.
He vibrated his tongue on my clit, undulated in my pussy,
stabbed my ass.
“Shit!” I screamed as my body strained toward release.
The woman crawled away from me and toward Tommy. I
leaned up on my elbows, watched as he wrote his name in my
humping pussy with his tongue. The woman rolled onto her
back again, slid beside Tommy. She pulled a thigh across her
head. Tommy dipped his hips toward her waiting mouth.
My pussy clenched as she engulfed his big-ass dick three
inches. Tommy growled as she pulled him deeper. I leaked cum
as she passed the six-inch mark. Cunt sobbed when his entire
nine inches disappeared down her throat. Tommy fucked her
mouth like it was a pussy. The woman pressed the dildo back
into her wet snatch and bucked on it. I pinched my nipples,
rubbed Tommy’s head, rubbed her thighs.
Tommy suddenly made a fuck face. His hips undulated in
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 175

the air rapidly. His eyes rolled in his head. The woman flung
her legs wide, pushed the dildo deep into her pussy. Humped
the air. Tommy grabbed hold of my nipples, and I erupted, con-
vulsed. My legs held him in a headlock as I sprayed his face, his
chin.
Bliss.
 16

You would think at this point that I had the best of both
worlds—my cake and was eating it, too. Not so. My sex drive
was in overdrive, and I was sexless in the city!
Tommy continued his disappearing acts—Valentine’s Day
and my birthday—and Felix worked the night shift, so our
schedules rarely collided. I made the decision to find someone
who had the time and energy to train all his attention on me.
Neither Tommy nor Felix had stepped up his game, no matter
how much hinting I’d done, so it was time for some new players.
I called Tommy first. No answer, so I left a message. He
called me back an hour later.
“Hey, Sonata. What’s up?”
“Glad you called me back. I need to talk to you.”
“Talk.”
Guess he didn’t think I had something that needed to be said
face-to-face. That was fine. “Well, we’ve been seeing each other
off and on for the past year. . . .” My voice trailed off as I col-
lected my thoughts.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 177

“Yeah. And?”
I took a breath, decided to get to the point. “Tommy, I like
you, but I’m not going to see you again.”
He exploded. “What’s this shit about? We’re doing fine.”
He thought seeing me once or twice a month was fine. I def-
initely knew where I stood with him. “I just feel that, after a
year, we should have . . . progressed.”
“Progressed? I’m a busy man. I see you when I can.” Which
wasn’t too much.
“I realize that. It’s just not . . . enough.”
“Not enough.”
“No. Not enough for me.”
“So you’re telling me you want to stop seeing me altogether
even though we don’t see each other . . . enough . . . for you
right now,” he spat.
My logic sounded warped coming from his lips, but I stuck
to my guns. “Yes.”
“This is bullshit. Just bullshit,” he snarled. “I can’t believe
you’d come at me like this.”
His attitude pissed me off. “Well, I am. I don’t see you
enough, you don’t try to make more time for me, and I need
more than what we have. Have a good day.” I hung up. It rang
seconds later. I refused to answer. That’s when my cell phone
began singing . . . and singing and singing.

I called Felix an hour later. He had been sleeping, but his

voice brightened when he heard mine.
“Sonata, good to hear from you.”
“Maybe,” I began truthfully.
“You sound different. What’s going on?” he asked.
“Felix . . . I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.”
“Me, too.”
178 / Sydney Molare

“But . . .” I hesitated, not wanting to continue but knowing

he was too nice of a guy to string along, “but the fact is . . . I’m
not going to see you again.”
“What happened?” he asked, surprised.
“You just don’t have the time to spend with me that I’d
like.”
He was quiet before he said, “I know. I’ve been trying for
months to get on the day shift, but we’re low on staff, and I
haven’t been successful.”
I was quiet.
“Sonata, please don’t give up on us because of my work
schedule.”
“It’s not just yours, it’s mine also,” I replied, frustrated at
life.
“We can do better. Tell me what to do.”
“I have,” I reminded him. I’d asked him to surprise me when
he got off. Spend the night on the spur of the moment. So far it
hadn’t happened. All our dates had been planned, orchestrated
affairs.
I heard him sniff, but he didn’t speak.
“So, I wanted to let you know. Not act funny and leave you
in the dark.”
His voice broke as he said, low, “Ca—can I call you back a
little later? This has thrown me for a loop.”
“No need. I think we’ve said all we need to.”
“But—”
I hung up the phone with him still talking.

My cell phone rang all day. As I saw patients, I heard the

ringing. As I did surgery, I heard the ringing. When the staff re-
marked on the ringing, I put it on vibrate. All this wasn’t work-
ing, and it continued to ring.
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 179

Finally the day ended and I drove to Lorenze’s to cool my

heels. The ringing had given me a headache, made me short
with clients, rough with patients—an all-around bad person to
be near today.
I pushed the bar door open with something akin to relief. . . .
 17

Present day, continued

They both stepped back, and each offered me their hand. My

skin tingled as I watched them stare at me. Make-up sex was
definitely in the air . . . but which one?
Suddenly my fantasy of two men popped into the forefront
of my mind. I imagined twin lips, hips, thighs intertwined with
mine. Two sets of hands stoking my fires, two sets of cocks
stroking me deep . . . but, no, that was a fantasy, not reality.
Or could it be?
When else would I have two men I really dug, who knew
about each other, ready to give me sex? My body trilled with
excitement, fear. I knew it was now or never.
“Well, guys, you want to continue this?” I asked, feeling like
the dominant one for once.
They never looked at each other, only me, when each re-
plied, “Yes.”
Well, guess we’re all back together! I took each one’s hand
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 181

and started for the door. Make-up sex . . . times two . . . has got
to be the bomb!

We left Lorenze’s and drove to my apartment in our respec-

tive cars. My heart was thumping and my mind jumping all
over the place. I’d never had two men sex me down at one time.
Yeah, it’d always been my fantasy, but the reality was some-
thing I hadn’t planned because I never believed I could find two
men I enjoyed that would be willing participants. Sharing
pussy wasn’t one of their strong suits.
My hands were sweaty as I unlocked the door.
Felix and Tommy never said a word. In fact, they never even
looked at each other. Each time I peeped at them, they were
staring only at me. I ushered them in with little fanfare.
Showtime!
I took a deep breath and then cleared my throat. “Why don’t
I freshen up and we go from there?” I suggested.
“Cool” was Felix’s reply. Tommy answered moments later
with, “Fine.”
I strode into the bedroom on shaky legs. I stripped out of
my clothes and let the massage jets steam up the bathroom be-
fore I entered the shower. I washed myself slowly, trying to
plot my strategy.
Both at once, or one at a time?
One at a time would be business as usual. Shoot, since I didn’t
know when I’d even get another shot at some double-dick ac-
tion like this, I decided to go for the gusto—both in me at the
same time, in whatever fashion we wished . . . Video style.
Suddenly the shower curtain was drawn back. Felix’s golden
body stood on the other side, naked and aroused. His cock was
throbbing, and a drop of pre-cum was present on the tip. He
stepped inside, pulled me close. My breasts mashed into his
massive chest as his tongue raped and pillaged mine. He’s never
182 / Sydney Molare

kissed like this before! I thought as he swirled and twirled with

abandon.
His hands grabbed my cheeks and spread them, allowing the
pulsating massage jets to tickle my anus. It was unique and
pleasurable. My pussy juice multiplied rapidly. He pressed me
against the wall, began sucking my nipples. The sensation was
felt from my clit to where his lips clamped on my breasts. I
sighed.
The curtain was pulled back again. I opened my eyes to see
Tommy’s dark body step into the tub. Felix never stopped his
suckling as Tommy shifted behind me. Tommy’s lips sucked
along my earlobe, my neck, my back, while his hands plunged
into my bush, stroking, pulling, pushing inside of me, forcing
me to respond. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I was on fire!
Felix moved lower, stopping momentarily to lick my belly
button, until he was eye level with my clit. Tommy splayed me
open wide for Felix. Felix’s tongue caressed my outer lips, inner
lips, and then pierced my love hole. I moaned as his thick
mouth dick lapped at my juices. Tommy stroked my pelvis,
pulled my nipples taut as Felix fed on my lubricant. I undulated
against the hard dick at my ass and mouth at my pussy.
Tommy’s dick slid between my ass cheeks and throbbed. He
blew in my ear, whispered, “I plan to fuck you like nobody’s
business tonight.” I moaned and wiggled harder. He humped
my ass; balls brushed my cheeks. I writhed in ecstasy, dislodged
Felix’s head from my pussy. When Tommy inserted a finger
into my anus, I screamed as the needle pinpricks flowed up-
ward and exploded at my clit. . . .

I felt them drying me gently before one of them picked me

up and laid me on the bed. I don’t know who did what, because
I was still on my “high,” and my eyes were tightly closed. Kisses
rained on my face, my eyes, my neck, my back. I heard the tear-
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 183

ing of the condom packet and mentally prepared myself for this
love assault of my body.
I didn’t have to wait long.
I opened my eyes as Felix pulled me on top of him. His dick
pulsed in my stomach as he grabbed a handful of my hair and
pulled me higher. He bit my lips and chin, and I reciprocated
because I loved being bitten. Tommy pulled my butt into the
air while Felix and I plundered each other.
Tommy’s tongue swirled and lapped around the anus. I
arched my back involuntarily, wanted more of what he offered.
He spread my cheeks; his tongue pushed inside me. My belly
clenched; I opened my legs wider. Tommy took his time work-
ing his anal magic. His fingers tag-teamed with his tongue to
hold me open as he tongue-fucked me deeper. I was thrusting
backward on his face now, pussy juice dripping onto Felix.
Felix mashed my breasts together before fitting his large
dick in the groove. As he pushed upward, I flicked the tip and
sucked briefly before he slid downward. This tease play mildly
irritated me. I wanted more, damnit! I added additional suction
and, soon, Felix was surging into my mouth, my breasts forgot-
ten as he tried to fit all of his dick inside my hot orifice.
The oil was warm as I felt it dribble down my cleft. Tommy
skillfully massaged it around and inside of me, preparing me for
him. He lightly tapped his dick’s head on my cheeks. Goose
bumps broke out along my skin as I felt his dick pushing at the
sphincter. I gasped around Felix’s cock as Tommy entered me.
Tommy took his time stretching me and then waiting for me to
adjust. There were some sharp pains initially, but I relaxed my
body and accommodated him. As he pushed deeper, something
overtook me. I pumped back on that hard dick like it was in my
pussy. My nipples were rock hard, clit stiff as a pen as I pis-
toned back on him.
184 / Sydney Molare

“Yes!” I screamed as Tommy pumped forward and I pumped

back. “Yes!”
My fingers found my clit and began mashing, pulling on it.
“Oh, baby, this shit is good!” Tommy said as he kissed my
back.
I didn’t say a word, just kept pace with him.
“I want some of this,” Felix said. He held my face. “Let us
both love you . . . together. OK?”
Yep, that’s what I wanted, all right!
I nodded, and he slid lower. Tommy stopped as Felix “suited
up” and positioned his dick at my pussy’s door. He pumped
into me slowly. I could feel the tissues expanding: pleasure-
pain. Felix stopped and gasped, “I don’t think I can get any far-
ther without us stroking it in.”
I couldn’t answer with my voice, so instead I undulated my
body to help things along. Tommy pushed from the back while
Felix alternated from the front. In five strokes, he was snuggled
inside me. The sound of slapping flesh was . . . so, so delicious.
The dicks slid and slipped over and around each other, sepa-
rated only by a thin membrane of tissue. I rocked and undu-
lated with everything I had, increased the tempo.
Gawd, the sensations!
Tommy grabbed my hair. Felix squeezed my breasts and
pinched the nipples. I twisted, moaned and fucked, with every
muscle in my body straining for fulfillment. I inserted my hand
beneath my legs and began massaging two sets of balls. Both of
them yelped.
Felix pistoned upward as Tommy pistoned downward. I
brushed my clit and, suddenly, the needle pinpoints were zing-
ing up my legs and thighs to my clit. I stroked deeper than I
ever had before then . . . my entire body locked. Tommy moaned
loudly; he smacked his pelvis forcefully into mine. Felix’s fuck
 H ER W ILDEST FANTASY / 185

face betrayed him. His eyes rolled back into his head as he
mumbled incoherent words before lifting me high off the bed
with his final stroke. . . .

I now stand corrected. Make-up sex . . . times two . . . is the

bomb!
Pure Pleasure
Fiona Zedde
 1

Ian woke up still dreaming. The last vestiges of a woman, slim

hipped with a pretty bottom and a viciously tight pussy, made
him call out in his half sleep. The hoarse, preorgasmic shout
woke Ian fully from his dream. But he wanted to stay. He
pushed his hips into the bed, fighting to keep the sensation of
the woman’s sweetness around him. Ian pumped against the
bed, his dick caught in the silken cotton that, for a few neces-
sary moments, was like the slick, clasping inside of his siren, the
woman who often claimed him in sleep. The muscles of his ass
bunched and shuddered as he came, gasping, into the pillow.
Ian’s wife, Zoë, had been dead for almost five years now.
Some days it seemed like five minutes since he got the news of
her car accident. Other days it seemed like fifty years. Today
was one of those in-between days when he had a good perspec-
tive on things and the blame he shouldered for her accident—
an argument that pushed her screaming out into traffic and the
path of a drunk driver—weighed him down only a little. He
could usually tell right away what kind of day it would be, even
before he left his bed. This morning the sign was his explosive
190 / Fiona Zedde

orgasm and the almost sound of his dream lover’s name on his
lips.
Ian never had any illusions that this woman was Zoë. She
was too voracious in her appetite for sex, and her body was too
slight for her to be his dead wife. Ian pushed away from the bed
and its sticky sheets, stretching each muscle in his long body as
he headed for the bathroom. After a quick brush of teeth, his
morning push-ups, and a few rounds with the punching bag, he
went for the shower.
Under the spray, water sluiced down his sculpted toffee-
brown physique, tracing the muscled arms, chest, and belly.
His dick was soft, but with one touch it began to awaken. The
unbidden memory of the dream woman slowly brought it to
full hardness, and he stroked himself.
But he didn’t have time for this. One more come and he was
going to be late for class. It wasn’t even like he had the excuse
of a real woman to be late for. There hadn’t been a real woman
in his bed for a long time. Almost two weeks now. The constant
round of disposable bodies had worn him out. The women in
California were so beautiful and available that, even with the
shadow of Zoë’s loss hanging over him, Ian had initially gob-
bled up the most tempting pieces; but there had been no sub-
stance to them. Now it all seemed like a waste of energy. Ian
rediscovered that he preferred spice and challenge in his
women. He hadn’t found that in California yet.

After a full breakfast of wheat pancakes, eggs, and a protein

shake, he quickly left his house and drove down the winding,
sun-splashed streets to the university. Six years after moving to
California, he still wasn’t used to it. The campus was a buffet of
all things the Golden State had to offer: tall, short, bronzed,
brown, and pale sex goddesses, all in their prime with juicy
breasts, tiny waists, and lush asses on display. It was a smorgas-
bord of sexual plenty that Ian had often tempted himself to try
 P URE P LEASURE / 191

to taste. But his appetite was never up to it. His mama told him
never to shit where he ate.
“Good morning, Mr. Tate,” one of his students greeted as
she walked toward him in the hallway, gravity-defying breasts
bouncing in her white tube top.
“Good morning, Loren.”
If her jeans rode any lower, she’d be giving the whole cam-
pus a guided tour of her Pandora’s box. Her belly-button jewel
winked at him as she passed, but Ian only spared her a single
glance before stepping into his first class of the day.
 2

Earlier in the semester, Ian had realized that most of his stu-
dents were more interested in fucking him than learning about
the Harlem Renaissance. He paced once more in front of the
class, today’s lesson falling from his lips like memorized lines.
Some of the students were actually paying attention. Jasmine
Hannah sat right in front, with her pen moving steadily across
her paper, taking down every pertinent word. There were oth-
ers, too. Vincent Mueller and Craig Johnson were model stu-
dents, but only because neither wanted to repeat the class again.
Ian’s gaze swept over the class, acknowledging the bored,
dreamy-eyed, sleepy, interested, and variously pained expres-
sions on the faces of his students. He shrugged inwardly and
continued with the lesson.
After class, Maddie Lang came up to his desk all pouty and
flirtatious in her head-to-toe Gucci. She and her three girls ap-
proached his desk like they were going to war, with all their
feminine weapons at the ready.
“Did you read my essay, Mr. Tate?” she asked, knowing full
well that her essay wasn’t so much a commentary on the role of
 P URE P LEASURE / 193

white patronage in the growth of the Harlem Renaissance but a

tour of the pornographic fantasies of a very imaginative young
lady. Complete with museum-quality illustrations.
Ian gave her his most charming smile. “The artistic part of
the assignment was well done, Maddie. But, if you notice, this
class is Literature and Life During the Harlem Renaissance, not
Art 101.” He pushed her paper across the desk toward her. “I
gave you a D. If you’d like to redo the essay on the topic we
discussed, then I will consider giving you a higher grade.”
All four girls gave him a blank look, as if he’d been the one
to fail the assignment. Apparently that seduction technique of
hers had worked before. What did she expect him to say, “See
you after class when we can discuss your essay at length,” and
then bend her over his desk and fuck her the way they both
knew she wanted? Maddie Lang wasn’t worth it.
Her lips tightened. “Thanks, Mr. Tate.” She took up her
essay and pivoted, her girls falling into place like the waving tail
feathers of a peacock, and walked out of the classroom. Ian
watched them walk away, switching their cute little behinds for
all they were worth. A teasing sight, but for all that, they barely
made his balls twitch. He went back to his paperwork.
The other faculty thought he was gay. They didn’t come out
and say so, of course, but after the first few refusals of blind
dates and his obvious lack of lust for the sun-toasted California
coeds, they thought he was a pussy, not that he wanted to fuck
one.
Ian knew he wasn’t the usual kind of straight man. He got
focused. Sometimes it was on getting laid, sometimes it wasn’t.
After he’d gotten with Zoë, there was no one else for him. He
met her in a capoeira class his first year of college, and that was
that. He had been seeing a few girls at the time, some glamour-
girl sorority types who’d been drawn to his clean, upper-middle-
class look—polo shirt and khakis, cargo shorts and slogan tees
even in the middle of winter—and his lean, sleekly muscled
194 / Fiona Zedde

swimmer’s body. His ready smile and GQ features only added

to the attractive package that most girls were eager to unwrap.
Ian had to work to get Zoë. In class she was the one who ex-
celled far above everyone else. She was tricky in her game, her
kicks hurt, and her bottom always looked good in those loose
dancer’s pants. Flashes of her belly and sweat-soaked sports bra
when she turned effortless somersaults in the air had him in-
stantly hard. For months everyone in the class thought he was
shy and never wanted to play. The truth was that he wanted to
play only with her. He wanted a close-up view of the sweat
dripping down her face and neck that collected in the shirt
clinging to her thick breasts and nipples. He watched all the
other boys, and some of the girls, get turned down by Zoë time
and time again. She played with them, and the rest of the class
got to watch, every single player hiding hard-ons or uncom-
fortably wet panties. Ian didn’t think he stood any more of a
chance than most with her, and that excited him.
One cold and blustery day, they both came early to class.
Ian asked her to play with him, just a warm-up. For once he
wasn’t thinking about fucking. He was just frozen and wanted
to raise his body temperature. To his surprise she said yes, smil-
ing into his eyes before sweeping off her oversize sweatshirt
and dropping it to the side next to her bag. She had on another
shirt, tighter and smaller, that was the same burnished copper as
her skin. If he looked too fast he could fool himself into think-
ing that she was topless. Her long, curly hair, which he later
found out was her single source of pride, she doubled up and
gathered in a club at the back of her neck. Zoë put on the music.
“Ready?”
He wasn’t, but he stepped to her anyway. Their play was
rough. She bested him several times, reeling up from the floor
with powerful kicks and spins when he thought he had her cor-
nered. It was even better than he thought.
At the end of it, Ian was breathing hard, his breath coming
 P URE P LEASURE / 195

in harsh puffs against the now comfortably cool air of the stu-
dio. He felt the sweat coating his naked back and chest, and the
heat of his workout glowing under his loose sweatpants. Zoë
watched him. She wiped the sweat from her face with the back
of her hand and licked her lips. Her chest rose and fell in a
quick tempo that pulled Ian’s eyes to her breasts and the hard
points of her nipples.
“Fuck.” He didn’t realize he’d said the word out loud until
she looked up at him with something naked and raw in her face.
Want. For him.
“I’m going . . .” She gestured behind her toward something,
but he didn’t understand her. “Bathroom,” she finally got out
and backed away.
Ian didn’t know why, but he followed her. Down the hall,
past the other two studios that had classes in session, past the
men’s showers and bathrooms. The women’s showers smelled
like shampoo and perfume. Zoë slipped through the doors, and
he followed still, like a hypnotized cobra, as she backed into an
empty shower, a private one with a real door. Her back was to
the cool tile wall, and she licked her lips again. That was all the
invitation he needed.
Zoë tasted of sweat and sweet, an aphrodisiac blend that
burned from her hotly spiced mouth. Her hands roved over his
chest, pressing him and pinching his flat nipples. He pushed her
bra up and out of the way to find what he needed—the feel of
her skin, sweat-slick and salty wet under his tongue, and the
black-cherry nipples he’d only fantasized about, hard and
ready in his mouth.
“Fuck me,” she hissed in his ear.
Zoë pushed her pants and panties down and off for him to
push his dick—oh, sweet heaven!—inside her soaked pussy.
She grabbed his ass to pull him deeper. Her deep, urgent noises
spurred him on, swelled his dick until he was panting as loudly
as she was, slamming into her and then pulling almost all the
196 / Fiona Zedde

way out before diving back into her pussy. Her ass slapped
rhythmic and wet against the tile; she grabbed his shoulders, his
back, clawing at him with her ankles locked together below his
ass.
“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” she chanted as he pounded
into her. Their sweat and sex smells rose up, surrounding him
until he was swimming in his desire, hot and rushing, his mus-
cles burning to get them across the finish line of orgasm.
Her arms reached up to grab the industrial-strength shower
rod as her hips pistoned against him, fucking him as much as he
was fucking her, her lips skinned back and feral, the “Fuck
me!” chant still pouring out of her. He squeezed the breasts
popping coyly from beneath the rolled-up edge of her bra,
pinching the nipples between his fingers in time to the push-
pull of his dick. She was starting to come. He felt her pussy
clench around his dick, one tight squeeze and release after an-
other; each time she pushed her back in a more extreme angle
off the shower wall, arching into him.
“Goddamnit!” She came in a hoarse shout, pitching him
over the edge with her as she milked his dick of everything it
had.
They shuddered against the tiled wall and each other, sweat-
ing and breathing rapidly. Her skin was hot. Ian pulled back,
and she made a small sound, a low grunt when his dick slid
wetly out of her. They both looked at each other as they had
the same thought. Shit! No rubber.
But everything worked out. They both got tested, a little too
late but better than not at all, and started to fuck every day,
sometimes three or four times, depending on if they had class
or not. He stopped seeing the other girls. A year later they were
married and making plans to leave Atlanta for New York or
some other big city in which they could both do well in their
respective professions. Four years later, Zoë was dead.
 3

“So, everyone knows what they have to do to get ready for

this trip?”
All six of the students in the meeting, four women and two
young men, nodded or made some noise of agreement. Ian sat
on top of his desk, feeling relaxed at his last campus commit-
ment of the day. He looked at Jasmine.
“I know you have that engineering conference coming up
next week, so don’t worry too much about the Ojai writers’
conference. Just get what you need out of it, and then turn in
your assigned story in two weeks.”
Jasmine smiled. “I’m not worried, Mr. Tate. I’m just grateful
for the chance to go along with the rest the group. Even though
I’m not a Creative Writing major, I still appreciate you making
room for me.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘yet,’ Jasmine. You’re a great writer, but I
understand about the engineering thing. You’ve got to eat, after
all.”
“Not all of us are gonna be starving writers, Mr. Tate.”
Olivier Richey, who had aspirations of being the next Stephen
198 / Fiona Zedde

King, waggled his pencil at Ian. “I plan on making as many

connections at this conference as possible.”
“Good for you, Olivier,” said Natalie, one of the more obvi-
ously gorgeous women in the class, and an MFA candidate.
“Just don’t mow down any of us on your path to fame and
riches.”
Ian chuckled. “And I think that does it for our last organiza-
tional meeting before the conference.” He looked at his watch.
“It’s a little after six. I imagine you all have places to be?”
“There you go again, always trying to get rid of us. If I didn’t
know any better, I’d swear you didn’t like being adviser to our
little writing club.”
“And you do know better.” Ian said, smiling at Samantha
Ng. He picked up his briefcase and the folder with his papers to
grade for the week. “So, everyone, to recap: we’re meeting in
front of the Humanities offices on Friday afternoon at three.
The van will be parked near my car and unlocked if you want
to put some of your things in it. We leave at three thirty.”
“Got it, Mr. Tate.” Jasmine gathered her things and, after a
quick glance at her own watch, dashed out the door while
wishing everyone a good evening.
“She must have a hot date or something,” Olivier said with a
casual leer. “What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall for
that hot piece of business.”
“Why do men always turn into pigs by the idea of two
women together?” Samantha groaned.
“Because it’s hot,” Natalie said as she too headed out the
door. “See you, Mr. Tate.”
Samantha looked at Ian and rolled her eyes. “Can you be-
lieve her?”
“No comment.” Ian chuckled again and waved good-bye to
his students.
“Come on, Sam. You need a drink.” The other club mem-
bers jostled her out of the classroom, teasing as they went.
 P URE P LEASURE / 199

As Ian went to turn off the lights, a bright orange folder

caught his eye. A quick glance through it told him that the
folder was Jasmine’s. In it was an essay and notes on some com-
plicated engineering something or other. After a moment’s hes-
itation, he put it in his briefcase. She might need it for her
presentation at the conference that was less than a week away.
He decided to be a good samaritan and drop the folder off at
her house on his way home from the basketball court later on.

Ian rang the doorbell to the small Spanish-style bungalow

that was supposed to be Jasmine’s house. As he waited for
someone to come to the door, Ian noticed a couple walking
their dog on the sidewalk bordering the house. They held
hands as they walked together through the quiet neighbor-
hood. The dog, a ghost-gray Weimaraner puppy, leaped and
played behind them, sniffing at every bush and rock it passed.
“Can I help you?” A girl, not Jasmine, stood in the door-
way. She nibbled at a crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwich
as she waited for Ian to speak.
“Oh, yes.” He smiled at the pretty, gamine girl. “Sorry. My
name is Ian Tate, and I teach at the university—”
“The Mr. Tate?” She laughed and paused with the sandwich
halfway to her mouth. “You’re the one who’s chaperoning
Mina and the other girls to Ojai?”
He didn’t know why she seemed so surprised. Who was this
girl anyway? “I am. Is there a problem?”
She laughed again. “We’ll see.” The girl looked back over
her shoulder and yelled out, “Mina! There’s someone here to
see you. And he didn’t call first.”
The girl turned back to him, and Ian was struck again by
how lovely she was, with her short, natural hair; odd, pointy
ears; and the wide, dark eyes staring unblinkingly up at him.
She looked away as a sweatpants-and-T-shirt-clad Jasmine
bounded up behind her. His student seemed distracted.
200 / Fiona Zedde

“Hey, Mr. Tate. What’s going on?”

“Sorry, but for some reason it never occurred to me to call.”
He produced her folder from his briefcase. “You left this in the
meeting earlier tonight.”
Her expression cleared. “Thank God! I’ve been looking all
over for that.” She hugged it to her chest, smiling. “Thank you!
I wanted to look over those notes tonight, and I was going
crazy when I couldn’t find the folder.”
The other girl retreated from the door. Ian watched her slim
back, left bare by a psychedelic-print halter top, disappear as
she slipped into the candlelit recesses of the house. Something
about her seemed vaguely familiar.
“No problem, Jasmine. Your house isn’t very far from mine.
Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your studying.” He stepped
back from the doorway. “Good luck with that presentation.”
“Thanks.” She started to close the door.
“Oh, by the way.” Ian turned back to the house. “Who was
that girl who answered the door? I didn’t know you had a sis-
ter.”
“Oh.” Jasmine giggled, sounding a little like the girl who an-
swered the door. “That’s my mom. She can be a little rude
sometimes. Sorry about that.”
Her mother? “No, it’s OK. She wasn’t rude. I was just curi-
ous.” He gave her his professor’s smile. “I’ll see you on Friday
afternoon.”
“OK.” She smiled back and closed the door.
As he walked back down the path past their garage, he felt
eyes on him. Ian looked around and then up. It was Jasmine’s
mother. She sat at the upstairs window, perched on the window
seat like a cat, watching him. When she noticed that he saw her,
she didn’t look away. If anything, her look intensified. Then
she smiled.
Ian got into his car and drove off, feeling her eyes on him the
 P URE P LEASURE / 201

entire time. At home he couldn’t shake her look. Or the feeling

that he’d seen her before. He graded some papers, planned an
itinerary for himself during the Ojai trip, and then took himself
off to bed.

She was draped in candlelight. In a scene straight from a

soft-core porn, she sat in a high velvet-covered bed, naked with
just the light playing over her silken flesh, flickering over her
ankles, thighs, the subtle curve of her hips, her sweeping back,
and the welcoming smile turned coyly over her shoulder. He
felt his own nakedness in the slight breeze that came from an
open window. Her gaze caressed his body like her soft hands
soon would, skimming over his chest, his flat belly that con-
tracted at the look of her, and his slowly hardening cock.
“Come,” she said. And he went to her. She turned slowly,
and his breath escaped him. How could someone so lovely and
innocent-looking be so bold? She kissed him, brushing her
breasts against him, teasing with her hands. She cupped his
balls and whispered hotly in his ear.
“I need to taste you.”
Her hands pushed him gently onto the bed. The velvet en-
folded him as she moved down between his widening thighs.
She smiled again. And covered him with her mouth. His neck
arched. His body sizzled. She retreated to lick the head of his
dick slowly while keeping her eyes on him, watching the ago-
nized pleasure in his face. Her mouth opened, and she swal-
lowed him, taking him deep into the back of her throat, sucking
in a slow, building rhythm until his hips moved with her head
and his hand drifted over her hair, cupping her vulnerable scalp
as she watched him with her big eyes. Her cheeks hollowed as
she took more of him into her mouth, feeding his pleasure,
trailing fire down his belly and into his balls. As though she
sensed their sudden heaviness, his sudden need to come, she
202 / Fiona Zedde

cupped him and hummed something. He exploded in her

mouth. Her smile was angelic and hungry, and she climbed up
his body, opening up her gorgeous pussy above his mouth.
“Your turn.”
Ian opened his mouth, anticipating the soft wetness on his
tongue and that low gasp of hers when he gave it to her just as
she liked. Instead he got the sound of his alarm clock.
“No.” He rolled over in the bed and swept his arm to where
he knew the alarm clock was. “I’m not working today,” he
muttered to the merciless alarm clock that had taken away his
dream. Her slick pussy had been right there, its pink insides
tender as a conch, just waiting for him to slide his tongue in-
side.
Ian groaned and sat up. “Fuck.”
His sheets were wet from when he had come in her mouth.
He hated to let her go. In his dreams she was perfect, always
ready to please him. In his waking life all he had of her were
cryptic looks from a high window and sticky fingers holding
on to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Ian froze. And that
was it. Just that simply, he knew where he had seen Jasmine’s
mother before. In his bed. In his dreams.
 4

Ojai was a nice town. Ian hadn’t been there in a long time, not
since he’d first come to California and thought about becoming
an artist. What kind of artist, he hadn’t really been sure. All he
knew was that he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the school
bureaucracy and bullshit anymore. Then he’d ended up in
Irvine. He fell in love with teaching again, and that was the end
of his artistic aspirations.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen. We’re here.”
He pulled the van up to the hotel. It was a small two-story
guesthouse an alum had rented to him and his students for
practically nothing. His students peered outside the van, look-
ing around the small art town like they had been traveling for
hours and had finally arrived on Mars.
“Thank the goddess,” Natalie said. She slung her backpack
over her shoulder and jumped out of the van. “One more freak-
ing round of Faulkner trivia and I was gonna put my head
through the glass.”
“You’re just pissed because you didn’t get any of the an-
204 / Fiona Zedde

swers right.” Samantha picked up her pink duffel bag and start-
ing walking toward the small adobe-style hotel to check in.
Jasmine bumped Natalie’s shoulder and laughed. “She’s
right. Don’t be such a sore loser.” She grabbed her friend’s hand
and pulled her toward the hotel.
Kendra McNeal and Archie Kennedy quietly emerged from
the back of the van. Though physically mismatched, the pair
had been inseparable since they met in the group at the begin-
ning of last year. Plain and studious Kendra, with her thick hair
more often than not held back in two afro puffs, and Archie
Kennedy, gorgeous academic wonder boy and soccer star. The
two had spent the entire ride snuggling and talking quietly in
the back corner seat of the large van.
“The ride was fine, Mr. Tate. Didn’t feel a single bump in the
road.” Archie grinned, and Kendra smiled up at him adoringly
before nodding back at Ian.
“We’re going up to the room, now,” she said, her voice
strong and mature despite her petite frame. “How much time
do we have until we meet you back here?”
Ian looked at his watch. “About two hours. After that it’s
three hours at the conference for registration and the first
opening sessions, and then we all come back here.”
“No problem. Thank you,” Kendra said; then the couple
started off toward their room.
“You’re welcome.”
In his downstairs room with a balcony overlooking a slop-
ing valley tossed with wildflowers, Ian put his body through a
round of deep stretches and silent capoeira moves before taking
a quick shower. He’d been restless all week. Dreams of this
woman—he didn’t even know her name—came to him even
more frequently now. It didn’t matter if he was in the class-
room or in the pool swimming laps until his lungs burned. His
body was hard with the awareness of her.
 P URE P LEASURE / 205

Last night, standing up from the pool with the water run-
ning the length of his body, Ian had been even more aware of its
potential as an instrument of sex. The muscles in his arms and
shoulders, the curving flesh of his ass, the plains of his belly
with its hard ridges and smooth skin, all seemed made for her.
Meant for pleasing her. He hadn’t felt this aroused or obsessed
by a woman since Zoë. Even in their most heated moments,
with the sweat blinding their eyes, their bodies straining against
each other, and his dick buried deep inside Zoë’s pussy, none of
that matched the intensity of what he wanted with his dream
woman. And he hadn’t even fucked her yet.

The time at the conference flew by quickly. After a full day

of meeting new people, fending off advances from the attractive
but unremarkable women, and making contacts for the univer-
sity’s writing program, Ian gathered his students and went back
to the hotel.
“Is that place just one big pickup joint?” Samantha asked as
they left the van.
“Pretty much,” Archie said. “Did you see how everybody
was eyeing us when we walked in? It was definitely about the
tits and ass and dick, not about any sort of writing. And did
you see that sleazy old guy who tried to get into Natalie’s
pants? That was some funny shit when she shot him down.”
He mimicked shooting off a gun and laughed.
“Most of the writers are acting like they’re rock stars, and
we’re just here for them to fuck,” Natalie said. “I’m not into
that groupie shit.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Kendra said. She’d apparently been to a
good intro session about writing and making connections of
the nonsexual kind.
Olivier looked a little disappointed. “Hey, like some schmuck
said not too long ago, ‘Tomorrow’s another day.’ I’m holding
206 / Fiona Zedde

out for a good hookup this weekend, as long as the chick can
tell me who I can send my manuscript to while she’s riding my
dick.” He looked at Ian. “Sorry, Mr. Tate.”
“Forget Mr. Tate, what about the rest of us?” Jasmine wrin-
kled her nose and leaned away from her classmate. “That was
disgusting, even for you.”
Olivier smirked. “Thank you.”
“I’ve heard worse,” Ian said. “Just don’t forget to use rub-
bers if you end up in the saddle.”
“Definitely; I can always cop a few off Archie. I know he’s
got a couple hundred in his bag.” Olivier chuckled. “He and
Kendra fuck like goddamn rabbits.”
Luckily the amorous couple was far behind them, walking
slowly side by side as they watched the sunset wash the land-
scape around them in pink and amber flame.
The others snickered.
“What about you, Mr. Tate?” Jasmine asked. “We saw that
hot chick with the tattoos giving you the eye.”
Ian smiled at the unexpected question. “She was definitely
attractive but not my type. I’m working on something else
right now. Something better.”
“Damn, someone more fine that that?” Natalie shook her
head. “Still, I’d take up tattoo chick on her offer on principle.
She’s hot.”
“Whatever, Natalie,” Samantha said. “I’m sure Mr. Tate isn’t
going to have sex with some woman while he’s our chaperone.
No matter how hot she is.”
“Chaperoning doesn’t mean you have to cut off your dick
and check it at the door.” Olivier apologized again. “I’m sure if
he really wanted it, Mr. Tate could arrange something after all
you kiddies were off to bed. Right, Mr. Tate?”
Ian chuckled. “You’re right. Because I certainly did not
check my . . . um, package at the door.”
His students laughed.
 P URE P LEASURE / 207

Back in his room, Ian showered and changed into loose

pants that sat low on his hips and showed off the vee of muscle
and the nodding weight of his dick. He poured himself a glass
of Scotch and bypassed the comforts of his room for the terrace
outside.
The sun was already gone, leaving behind on the horizon
only a trace of its gorgeous color. Ian leaned back in the chair,
savoring the quiet of his evening. His friends all thought it was
strange that he took so much pleasure in being alone. He en-
joyed company, but there was just something fulfilling about
spending time by himself and enjoying the minute passing of
time.
There were times he got lonely, but it wasn’t very often.
During those times he thought of Zoë and how she used to
treasure her quiet time, too. They had had separate spaces in the
house in which neither could come unless invited. It was a nice
arrangement, one that had been her idea but Ian didn’t object
to. It was certainly more fun when she got tired of being by
herself and came looking for him. He’d turn to see her at his
door, asking with a smile to be let in. He never once said no, es-
pecially not when she came with sex on her mind.
She’d never liked her big breasts, thought them too much of
a bother when she was doing capoeira or going about the busi-
ness of her life. But she loved them when they were having sex.
She loved to have them touched and stroked, and he’d obliged
her, washing them with his tongue, sucking the hard nipples
until she begged for him to slip inside her. Zoë had loved fore-
play but quickly realized she’d met her match in Ian. He could
go for hours, holding on to his orgasm like a miser with his
gold until just the right time. He loved that ache in his balls,
that tightening in his belly. Ian loved to savor that particular
kind of pain. When he came, it was fantastic. Better than the
rushed nut that a quick fuck could give. And he also loved to
play with his woman’s pussy until it purred and salivated for
208 / Fiona Zedde

him. Until his dick or tongue or fingers were all she wanted in
that moment. Nothing else. No one else.
When he heard a moan, Ian thought that it was his dream
Zoë. Her moans were often rough and urgent, ones that got his
dick even harder as they fucked. The moans he heard from his
balcony were soft, reluctantly teased out of the woman. But
sometimes Zoë gave him those, too, when he was working on
her fourth or fifth orgasm, and she thought her body was too
tired to go on.
She often came to him smelling of want and patchouli. He
couldn’t resist her and didn’t want to. In his sunlit study, she
stood near his chair, the one he knew she loved to fuck in. He
watched her as his dick came to full hardness under his pants.
She just stood there, gorgeous and undeniable with her heavy
breasts, slim athlete’s body, and neatly trimmed bush. He could
almost see her pussy swell and get wet, its walls thickening to
receive him.
A moan came again, and this time Ian knew it wasn’t his
memory of Zoë. It came from one of the upstairs rooms, a
woman’s urgent sounds, and then a man’s, a rough counter-
point to her melodic vocal slide. Ian relaxed deeper into the ter-
race chair. His pants tented, and his head fell back. Between the
twin stimulations of his memories of Zoë and the moans rain-
ing down on him, he was ready. He sipped his Scotch and sa-
vored the heathery burn of the drink on his tongue and down
his throat. Unbidden, his hips moved against the chair, his ass
grinding against the air as arousal washed over him. The
woman’s moans came louder; then words, soft and indecipher-
able, fell between them. Ian pushed his pants down below his
hips and took his cock in his hands. It pulsed hot and hard
against his palm. Pre-cum already made him slick. He spread
the moisture down and around his dick with a smooth up-and-
down motion, imagining it was Zoë’s pussy that made his dick
so wet, that made his balls leaden and ache.
 P URE P LEASURE / 209

In his study, Zoë slowly lowered herself onto his thick erec-
tion. His head fell back, and he grasped the arms of the chair
tighter. Her thick breasts waved close, bringing her scent of
sweat and perfume more strongly to him. He moved his head
snakelike toward them, capturing a thick nipple in his mouth
and sucking softly, a gentle buildup of intensity he knew she
liked. He squeezed the other breast, teasing its nipple with his
thumb. Her pussy swallowed all of him then, and she tightened
her internal muscles on him, squeezing his dick once and then
twice. Ian groaned. Her breast fell from his mouth with a soft
pop, and it hovered in his field of vision, moist from his tongue,
before his eyes fell shut and swept away the delicious image.
She rode him slowly, moving her hips, squeezing him until
his body was a hard, wonderful ache. He grabbed her ass, urg-
ing her faster. Zoë wanted it fast. She was trying to do it slowly
for him, building up to the crescendo he liked. But he could
have his time after. He’d give her this come, shoot inside her
pussy now, so he could play with her flush-softened body later,
lay her out on the rug and fuck her long and deep until they
were both sore. But now. Her breasts hopped in front of his
face as she sped her movements. The sweat limned her face, col-
lecting on her upper lip above her fiercely snarling mouth. Ian
massaged her breasts, squeezed her nipples until she grunted,
riding his dick hard and fast, panting and urging him on. She
came with a minor roar, jerking on his dick until he was close
and then closer. His eyes clasped shut, and his hands held
tightly to her hips as she grunted and gasped, her pussy squeez-
ing and gliding around him. Ian opened his eyes and saw an-
other face, one mischievous and laughing, with a mouth sticky
from grape jelly and peanut butter.
He came all over his hand and stomach, the cum splashing
up on his tightened stomach muscles and down on this pants.
Ian gasped softly and then sighed. This would have been a good
time to have a towel handy. But he was just too drained to get
210 / Fiona Zedde

up and go to the room for one. Ian chuckled. He hadn’t jerked

off this much since high school. And even back then he was
getting enough pussy to make it more of a hobby than a neces-
sity.
He licked his lips and drained his glass of Scotch dry.
Upstairs the amorous couple was quiet. There was the occa-
sional giggle, an answering laugh, but they seemed to be done
fucking for the night. Ian looked up at the stars. Maybe it was
time he found himself a woman. At the rate he was going at it
with his own dick, he’d get carpal tunnel and go blind. Ian
chuckled ruefully again. Yeah, it was time.
 5

They made it back to Irvine with no casualties or STDs. If pos-

sible, Kendra and Archie seemed even closer, while Samantha
found an unexpected hookup of her own with a townie who
lived only a few minutes away from her.
Ian dropped off his students Sunday afternoon but was back
on campus Monday morning. He had a test planned for his
Harlem Renaissance class on Tuesday and wanted to be sure he
was just as ready as the kids were supposed to be. At a few min-
utes past one, Ian finished up his work and, after a brief internal
debate, decided to leave early.
“See you tomorrow, Ian.” Ella, the secretary for the Humani-
ties division, smiled at him as he walked by her, crouched at the
filing cabinet.
He heard her soft hum of appreciation as his jeans-clad
backside passed by. Ella was fourteen years happily married,
but, as she’d commented to him several times, “It doesn’t hurt
to appreciate the beauty around here, does it? Especially not if
it gives me a little more bounce in the bedroom later on in the
day with my husband.”
212 / Fiona Zedde

“Good afternoon, Ella!” he called back. “Don’t give that

husband of yours a heart attack this evening, you hear?”
He closed the door on her delighted laughter. It was yet an-
other gorgeous California spring day. Ian put some distance be-
tween him and the sun with his shades and gripped his briefcase
more tightly in his hand. He felt like going out tonight. His
first class wasn’t until eleven in the morning, so he would have
plenty of time to recover if he decided to stay out past his usual
bedtime. Ian was still pondering going to the club, when he
heard someone call his name.
“Hey, Jasmine,” he answered when he recognized his stu-
dent.
The young girl stood near an electric-blue Mini Cooper
convertible idling quietly by the curb. When she straightened
up from lifting her backpack out of the rear passenger seat, Ian
saw that the person behind the wheel was her mother. He nod-
ded in greeting to the older woman. “Good to see you again.”
He turned to Jasmine. “I thought you were away in Berkeley
for the conference this week.”
“It’s this coming weekend, Mr. Tate. That’s why I’m taking
your midterm early, remember?”
“That’s right.” He nodded, clearing the cobwebs from his
brain. “And speaking of the midterm, just go to the Lit Club
office tomorrow at three, and it’ll be all set up for you.”
“No problem. Thanks again for being so understanding.”
“Any time. It’s not every day I can play a part in helping a
genius accomplish her life goals.”
Jasmine smiled. “See, Mama? Isn’t he the nicest man?”
Her mother smiled benignly from the car. “Of course he is,
darling.”
The young girl rolled her eyes and then leaned down to kiss
her mother. “See you later, Ma. I can get a ride from Kenyatta,
so you won’t need to pick me up. Bye, Mr. Tate. See you in
class.”
 P URE P LEASURE / 213

“See you.”
They both watched her walk off toward the classrooms, her
small body held in a graceful scythe that cut through all the su-
perficial beauty around her. She was a lot like her mother. He
looked away from Jasmine only to collide his gaze with the
older woman’s.
Ian cleared his throat. “It was good to see you again, Mrs.
Hannah,” he said, starting to walk away to his own car.
“It’s Miss.” The woman looked him over again, very much
like she had the first time she saw him in her doorway. “That is,
if you must use my last name. You can call me Tam, though. Or
Tamarind. Either way is much less formal, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. Then please call me Ian.”
She looked up at him from the driver’s seat of the tiny car in
a way that made it seem like he was the one looking up at her.
Before he could say anything, she reached over to the passenger
side and opened the door. “Why don’t you come for a drive
with me, Ian?” It wasn’t so much of a question as it was a de-
mand.
Why not? Ian tossed his briefcase in the backseat and got
into the car. She pulled carefully away from the curb. But once
they were outside the campus, she took off for the highway,
opening up the nimble little car and slipping quickly over into
the far left lane. The wind and open convertible top allowed for
little conversation, so Ian just used the time to watch her and
appreciate her pixielike beauty. And to compare the reality of
her to the insatiable creature of his wet dreams. How could this
woman have a nineteen-year-old child?
Ian looked back at the road as he felt the car slow. Tam
slipped quickly from the left lane to the right and then off the
highway.
“You like what you see?”
He glanced at her, guilty, until he noticed the teasing look in
her eyes.
214 / Fiona Zedde

“Yes, I do.”
“Good.”
The car now glided along one of Orange County’s many
scenic side roads. To the left of the car, mountains rose up, solid
and sun dappled. The earth fell away on Ian’s side in a gor-
geous, slow descent of glittering rocks, clinging vines, and sand
to the beach with its ribbons of waves and the seagulls swoop-
ing above the glittering blue Pacific.
“You’re not trying to take advantage of my daughter, are
you?”
Ian looked at her in surprise. “Does it seem like I am?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Jasmine likes you.”
Tam shifted to second and guided the car down a narrow road
leading toward the water. “She thinks you’re a really good per-
son, and I don’t want that goodness and niceness rising off you
to be your way into her affections and her panties. She is secure
about her lesbian sexuality, but she’s also naive about the
world, especially about men.”
“Little girls aren’t my thing,” he said, watching the last of
fellow car-bound travelers fade in the rearview mirror.
“So what exactly is your thing?”
Tam shifted into third, and they picked up speed, flying
down the narrow road with wispy sea grass brushing against
the car as they went. The wind stirred the folds of her dress,
and the white cotton fluttered up, revealing her knee and a
smooth length of thigh. Ian laughed.
Until that moment, he wasn’t sure what had been going on.
Was Tam interrogating him? Was she trying to make him feel
small for finding her, his student’s mother, attractive? Or did
she just have the sudden urge for a stranger’s company in her
sporty little car? But now he knew exactly where they were
heading. She must have smelled the lust on him.
“My thing,” he emphasized the last word with another soft
laugh, “is intriguing women. Like you.”
 P URE P LEASURE / 215

“Flatterer.”
The car slowed as it reached the beach. Sunlight made the
stretch of beach even more beautiful, gilding the waving sea
grass and the ocean that rippled iridescently under its bright
rays. Except for a lone house nestled higher up in the rocks, the
beach was deserted.
“You’re very beautiful, Ian,” she said and brought the car to
a stop. “But I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”
“I have.”
Tam laughed. She dropped the car keys in the cup holder
and got out. The hem of her long white dress brushed against
her bare ankles and feet as she stepped on the sand. Ian had no
choice but to follow.
“This is where I come to paint sometimes.” She gestured
around them with a bangled hand. “A friend who lives in LA
owns it. He doesn’t come out here very often, and he doesn’t
mind me using it.” Then Tam turned to him as if he was more
interesting scenery than the one she had just been looking at.
“Along with other things.” She tilted her head to look at him,
mischievous charm in the full curve of her mouth and her warm
eyes.
“Ian.” She sighed his name and smoothed a small hand over
his buttoned-down shirt. She trailed the fingers of the other
hand over his and then up his muscled forearm, over the folded
cuffs of his shirt, up to squeeze his biceps and then his shoul-
ders. Tam parted the first two buttons on his shirt, and Ian
watched, intrigued, and wondering just how far she would go.
She went all the way. He stood while she undid every button,
leaving the subtly striped cotton to frame the bare, hairless
plain of his chest, the gilled muscles along his ribs, and his flat,
chiseled belly.
Tam walked backward, inviting him to follow with the gen-
tle tug of her fingers until her ass gently connected with the tail
of the car.
216 / Fiona Zedde

“Have you ever had an older woman before?”

He shook his head, mind still unable to work out that he
was going to have this older woman, this woman who looked
more like one of his students than anybody he’d ever thought
of fucking. His mind was a little slow on the uptake, but his
body was already there. The full almost pain of his arousal
pushed against the stiff material of his jeans. Then she reached
for him and undid the zipper, allowing his dick to jut, full and
hard, into the warm air. She wrapped her hands around him,
and he had to steady himself against the car. Her fingers felt so
good, so right on him.
“I want to fuck you, Ian,” she said, moving her hand slowly
from base to crown of his dick in an exquisite motion that
threatened to buckle his knees. “This has nothing to do with
my daughter. Or your school or anything else.” Her thumb
stroked the head of his cock and he jerked, beyond shame, in
her hand. “You’re beautiful. I want you inside me.”
Although he was never planning on getting laid at this very
moment, Ian was prepared. He fumbled in his back pocket for
one of the condoms he’d put in his wallet the week before. Once
he had it out, Tam took the condom and ripped the packet with
her teeth before smoothing the rubber over his sensitized shaft.
She watched the emotions play across his face.
“I’m really going to enjoy you.”
“Believe me,” he said with a low groan, his body flushed hot
from her nearness, “it’ll be mutual.”
Ian lifted her. He swept her skirt up and out of his way, and
she helped him, moving aside her flimsy panties so he could
slide deeply, finally, inside her melting hot pussy.
“Jes—! Oh, fuck. . . .”
He’d never had a woman before. That was how it felt to be
inside the weeping heat of her that surrounded him, clasped
him, and invited him deeper. Nothing in his life had ever felt
this good, not breath, not life—God help him, not even Zoë.
 P URE P LEASURE / 217

Her eyes stared wide into his, steadily keeping him captive as
he moved inside her. Tam blinked and licked her lips. Ian lifted
her against him, moving her slight body in time with his
thrusts. Her breath caressed his face, brushed him with the
scent of anise as she rose against and then above him. The sweet
glide and squeeze of her pussy on his dick, the burn in his
thighs and arms as he held her up, her heated breath on his face,
all moved him in a slow, magnificent ascent toward his peak.
“Ian.” Her heels locked behind his back, and he trembled.
She moved harder against him but still slow, grinding her clit
against him with each pass. Her eyelashes fluttered, but she still
held him with her stare. “Ian.”
She hooked him with that stare, grabbed his balls, his dick,
his desire in an unbreakable grip and, with a measured, deliber-
ate torture, began to squeeze.
He gasped her name and staggered under the weight of their
combined lust; she fell back against the car, and he followed,
thrusting deep inside her, keeping that slow rhythm that made
them shudder against each other, made his breath go deep and
hard, made her latch on to his shoulders in desperate pleasure.
“Shit!” He bucked against her, lifting her up against the car,
driving her into the small machine with each measured motion
of his hips. So good. She felt so good. Tam gasped, a quick catch
in the back of her throat, and threw her head back. She came
around him like magic. Her cunt conjured his orgasm, threw
him into a brilliant scatter of thoughts and sensations—his
muscles hard and arching, pleasure bursting in his groin, in his
head, the exotically spiced scent of their sex around him, milk-
ing another twitch from him, another groan, another shudder.
“Thank you.” Her wide eyes looked at him, wet with plea-
sure and amusement. “That was even better than I expected.”
Ian assumed that was his hint to get off her and her car. He
eased up, groaning involuntarily at the singing ache in his
thighs. Damn, it felt good. With another groan he slipped off
218 / Fiona Zedde

the condom and tossed it aside. His body felt good and tired,
overcome with the deep lassitude that came after an intense,
satisfying fuck. He hadn’t felt that in a long time, and, watching
Tam, he realized how badly he wanted to feel it again. Her eyes
smiled at him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
She brushed down her skirt and moved toward the driver’s
side of the car. “You ready?”
 6

“Can you believe I’m banging that ass?”

Ian looked up from his paper. Simon Taylor sat down at the
table next to him, holding a photograph. Michael Spencer, the
university’s philosophy professor, walked over with the coffee-
pot in hand, curious about whatever Simon had to show. The
university’s posh interpretation of a faculty lounge was mostly
quiet this time of day. Those who could go home did. Only in-
structors with later classes or with nothing else better to do sat
around in the comfortably furnished but cold lounge. Ian had
class in less than an hour.
He’d tried focusing on the upcoming lesson, but thoughts of
Tam kept intruding. He remembered how she’d felt two days
ago as she came around him, squeezing him, rubbing her clothed
breasts against his chest. Even thoughts of their ambivalent part-
ing in the school parking lot afterward, her distracted, almost
puzzled smile as she’d left him alone to find his ride home,
plagued him.
Simon passed the photo to Ian. It was of a cute girl in a
bikini. Or, at least, half of a bikini. The bottoms sat low on her
220 / Fiona Zedde

curvaceous hips while the top was held tightly in her hands as
she lunged toward the person holding the camera. The child
was nothing remarkable, simply young and firm everywhere
that sagging men like Simon liked to touch. Most of their col-
leagues knew that Simon used his intro poetry classes as his
personal dating pool, not hesitating to take advantage of his
young pupils’ naïveté and romantic notions.
“Don’t you wish you had a piece of this, Tate?”
Michael smirked. “Maybe he’s not into that kind of ass.”
“You’re right,” Ian said, barely giving the older man a glance.
“I like my women out of training pants.”
“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the fruits of the uni-
versity, Ian.” Heinrich, a biracial German with a thick accent
and a bulldog’s face, said as he returned Simon’s photo. “You
know better than any man here how far these girls go to get
their instructors into bed.” Heinrich was happily married eight
years now to another professor at the university. They had a
notoriously open relationship and often had wild sex parties at
their house not too far from campus.
“I agree, Rick. But the fruit here is not to my taste,” Ian said.
“Too young. Too simple.”
“For shit’s sake, you’re going to fuck them not hire them to
be your TA.” Simon tucked the picture back in his wallet.
“You could do both, now.”
Heinrich laughed at Michael’s exaggerated piggishness.
“True, true.”
“I like a firm ass as much as the next man,” Ian said. “But the
idea of fucking someone on this campus actually makes me feel
a little queasy.”
“You must have a weak stomach then.” Heinrich turned
back to his laptop. “Most of your colleagues don’t have that
problem.”
Ian reluctantly chuckled. “Obviously.”
He walked into his classroom forty-five minutes later, ready
 P URE P LEASURE / 221

to give out the exam. He wrote the instructions on the board

and put test booklets on each desk before sitting down at his
own. Then he waited for his students to come in and find their
seats. They gradually filed in, already familiar with the routine.
Most were quiet, already taking out presharpened pencils and
ink-filled pens, knowing the intensity of his essay exams. At
one minute after the hour, he closed the classroom door and
told them to begin. For a moment he watched their heads bow
over their test papers and listened to the frantic scratch of pen-
cil and pen across paper, nervously cleared throats, and the oc-
casional and unexpected curse word.
Then he looked down at his book and thought about her.
There was nothing else for him to do. He would have liked to
go about his day as if he got the best sex of his life on the tail of
a Mini Cooper every day, but he couldn’t. Now the siren had
crossed over from the realm of dreams to reality. He knew what
she tasted like. He knew how she felt. He knew the hint of
sound she made when she came. In his dreams she had been a
screamer, loud and passionate in her praise of him and their sex.
The reality of her was better. Hotter. He looked forward to
making her scream his name.

Later that evening he left school with no particular destina-

tion in mind but wasn’t surprised when he ended up on Tam’s
doorstep. Ian hesitated about ringing the doorbell. He couldn’t
use Jasmine as an excuse to stop by; she was out of town at her
conference. Which, truth be told, was why he was here in the
first place.
“Sorry I didn’t call first,” he said when she opened the door.
Tam didn’t seem surprised to see him; in fact, she opened the
door wider, a cat’s creamed smile on her face.
“This is a nice surprise, Ian,” she said. She closed the door
behind him and turned to walk back into the house. Like a
puppet, he followed.
222 / Fiona Zedde

Ian swore he could smell everything about her, the salty wet
in her panties, the fragrance of mingled herbs that lay between
her breasts, the anise on her breath.
“Would you like something to eat?”
“Yes.”
She wore a skirt today, a white, knee-length, linen thing
draped over her perky bottom and a small tank top that showed
off the small muscles in her arms and her wealth of soft skin.
Tofu simmered in a pot on the stove. The sauce smelled of
peanuts and coconut milk. Tam turned down the fire and
walked to the kitchen’s center island where she had been slicing
vegetables before Ian rang her bell. She reached into the draw-
ers of the island and took out two plates and a couple of glasses.
“How old are you?” she asked suddenly.
“Twenty-eight, and you?”
“Thirty-nine as of two weeks ago.” She looked at him for a
moment and then went to the sink to rinse out the plates and
glasses.
“Oh, excuse me,” Ian said, backing out of her way as she al-
most bumped into him on her way back to the island.
They moved around the room in an awkward dance, with
Tam flickering strange looks at him until Ian wondered what
exactly he was doing at this woman’s house. So what if they’d
had a great time against the back of her car? That didn’t mean
she wanted to date. Ian cleared his throat.
“I came over to get your number,” he said. “I thought about
calling but then realized I had no idea what your number was.”
“Are you sure that’s not just an excuse? I can’t imagine you
not having access to Jasmine’s phone number.” She finished
slicing her carrots and swept them from the cutting board into
a silver bowl already lined with freshly washed lettuce and
pieces of broccoli. “Which, by the way, is also mine.”
“Cut me some slack, I’m trying not to seem like a stalker
here.”
 P URE P LEASURE / 223

“Oh, I see.” She smiled at him as she put away the cutting
board and knives before wiping clean the checkered marble
countertop.
Ian leaned back against the cupboards and watched her. She
seemed so confident here, so sure of herself. Was he the only
one caught unawares in this awkward moment? Then he no-
ticed the slight tremor in her hands as she turned off the stove.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said. What an under-
statement that was. Obsessed. Priapic. Under her damn spell.
Those were better words to describe what he was feeling.
“And?” She finally stopped her movement around the kit-
chen. Her eyes bored into his.
“I think you should take some of the blame for that. If you
hadn’t invited me into your car . . .” or answered the door that
night over a week ago or even existed, “then I’d be safe on my
side of town and you’d be free to eat your tofu alone.”
She bit into a baby carrot and chewed slowly. “Who says I
want to eat my tofu alone?”
Ian watched her for any sign that she was playing with him.
He stood up from his prop against the cupboard and felt the
ground steady under his feet. Tam stayed where she was, chew-
ing her carrot, watching.
Her skin was soft. He thought he had dreamed that, too.
Velvet under his hand, buttery on the tongue. Ian sucked her
finger into his mouth, tasting the hints of carrot, broccoli, and
dish soap that clung to her skin. She fell into a deeper slouch
against the island, and her lips parted as she watched him taste
her. He kissed the back of her hand, the inside of her wrist, her
elbow, and then her shoulder. Tam’s arm draped on his hip
bone, and her hand fell forward to rest against his ass.
“Beautiful boy,” she murmured, exploring the contours of
his round ass with her fingers.
He wanted to tell her that he was a man not a boy, but her
skin entranced him, and all he could do was slide his palms up
224 / Fiona Zedde

her back, and that motion became a lift onto the kitchen island,
and then he was tugging off her panties and burrowing under
her skirts to find the source of the smell that had been torturing
him since he’d walked into the house.
She shaved. He hadn’t properly noticed it before when they
were fucking on the beach, but now his tongue glided over her
smooth flesh without resistance. He sighed and then groaned.
She smelled so fucking good. He teased her with his tongue,
lightly touching the soft bud of her clitoris as he bathed the
sensitive flesh with his breath. Her pussy eagerly opened up for
him, and he went, gently, inside. She tasted like rain, fresh and
abundant. Tam sighed and fell deeper onto the marble surface.
Her legs floated up to his shoulders, and Ian caressed them as
his tongue savored the delicate flavor of her pussy. This was
what he came here to eat. Fuck the tofu. She gasped as his
tongue pushed firmly inside her. His nose nudged her clit, and
she gasped again. Her hand settled on top of his head.
“That’s . . . perfect.” Tam moved against his mouth, mur-
muring soft nonsense words as he ate his fill of her.
Ian freed his aching cock from the prison of his trousers,
passed his hand briefly over it to put on a condom, and then he
returned his attentions back where they belonged. His mouth
was wet with her, his nose full of her smell, his arms full of her
softness. He groaned against her clit, and she jerked. Her hand
fluttered down to his neck. His mouth opened wider as he used
the flat of his tongue on her clit, lavishing it with deep strokes
and sucks until her breath was nothing but hisses and her nails
bit painfully into his skin. Her hips cycloned on the counter-
top, thrusting harder and harder against his face.
“Oh!” The sound was reluctant, an escapee from her tight-
ened lips. She bucked against him; then her cunt fluttered and
flexed as she came. He stood up swiftly and buried himself in-
side her. The last flutterings of her pussy tugged him instantly
deeper, hurling him toward his own orgasm. Too fast, but he’d
 P URE P LEASURE / 225

take what he could get. He pushed his dick inside her to the hilt
before withdrawing, then again and again. He was so close. She
clung to him, scented, pussy wet, and warm. He could feel her
building again, and he forced himself to slow down. He wanted
her so much. His body sang with desire, heated like he’d just
come from the sauna, breath out of control and loud in her
kitchen.
Tam’s hips flew into motion again, and he heaved, panting
over her, trying to ram them both into the marble countertop.
Her hands flew back, reaching for something, anything that
wasn’t him. A glass fell to the floor with a harsh crash. She slid
across the counter, and he followed, grunting and ravenous.
The sweat poured down her face and neck, staining the white
linen of her blouse. Her nipples strained through the tank top,
begging for his mouth, his tongue. He wanted to see them. He
wanted to taste them. But—shit!
They came, panting, together and collapsed in a sprawl
across the sweat-slickened surface of the kitchen island. After a
moment she pushed at his shoulders. He was heavy. A groan
escaped Ian as he slipped from her and then from the counter-
top. His thighs and arms still ached from their session on the
beach two days before. Without bothering to hide himself, he
stripped off the condom and dropped it in her kitchen trash.
Then, noticing the broken glass, he carefully swept it up with a
nearby broom and dustpan and tossed it in with the used rub-
ber.
“That was a little presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”
“What?” Ian looked up from tucking his shirt back into his
trousers. His knees felt weak. What was this woman doing to
him?
“To come here with a rubber in your pocket.”
“It’s not just you,” he said. “I’m always prepared.”
Tam lay back, propped up on her elbows, watching him. She
was always watching. The wet flower of her pussy, framed by
226 / Fiona Zedde

the white skirt and the sprawl of her thighs, made him stop,
slow down, and almost reverse the direction of his zipper. Ian
cleared his throat and backed away.
“Can I see you again?” He made a show of examining the
salad bowl, ignoring the heavy drum of his heart. He wanted
this. In the worst way. He had no idea what it was about this
woman that had him by the balls, but she had him. “I’d like to
do it in a bed sometime.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “You are a presump-
tuous little fuck.”
“Little?” He raised an eyebrow, and she laughed even
harder.
Ian shook his head. She still hadn’t given him an answer. But
he knew she would say yes. The hum of her pussy around his
dick was her yes. She just didn’t know it yet.
Ian left the salad bowl alone. “Come on. Be nice to me, and
show me around your house. Afterward we can have some din-
ner.”
She watched him, speculation bright in her eyes. Then she
hopped off the kitchen island and brushed down her skirt.
“Why not?”
The house was made for comfort, clean smelling and cool,
with plants scattered on every available light-filtered surface
and an adventure of color— olive green, maroon, shell pink—
on each wall. It was a feminine, cozy house, with canvas after
canvas of beautiful art on the walls—large fantastical nature
scenes, painstakingly realistic in their detail, down to the
whisker on a bunny’s nose, the dusty blue of a butterfly’s wing,
but with a hint of something otherworldly hovering in the
background. The artist’s use of light and shadow was beauti-
fully effective.
“Your place is nice.” Ian said. “I especially like the art.”
“Thank you. It’s mine.”
“Really?” Ian nodded, impressed. “It’s very good.”
 P URE P LEASURE / 227

“I know. It pays the bills.”

So she was a working artist. He looked around the house
again. Very nice.
“You have a beautiful home.” They ended the tour in her
bedroom. “Very beautiful.”
The room was like her, lush and overwhelming with its
color. Red walls, a vivid blue rug on the hardwoods, a queen-
size bed covered with a bright red Mexican blanket and six
solid colored pillows. The only calm spot in the room were the
bare canvasses on the walls, stretched and framed bits of white
space scattered like light around the room.
“Thank you.”
He felt his body reacting to her again. It didn’t seem fair,
when she seemed so unaffected. Ian wanted her to react to him.
“Have you ever had a man in here?”
“Not with my child in the house.”
“That makes sense.” He looked at her again, considering.
“Will you have me in here?” He pulled his shirt out of his pants
and started to unbutton it. “She’s not home.”
Her hesitation didn’t stop him. Ian stripped for her, tempt-
ing her with his tight, flexing body. One pair of pants, socks,
shoes, and boxers later, he stood naked at her bed while she
stared from the bedroom door. In the mirrored closet door he
saw a reflection of them, Tam with her mouth bitten red and
her nipples hard against her shirt as she leaned back against the
closed door. Ian’s body was hard and flawless, a visual feast of
muscled calves, thick runner’s thighs, hardening penis, wash-
board belly, and hard, hairless chest. His face was open to her,
showing her how much he wanted to touch and be touched,
how very much he’d like to fuck her on that holiday miracle
bed of hers and knock all those damn pillows to the floor.
“You know, you can,” he said. “Have me, that is.”
“What makes you think I want you?”
It was his turn to laugh. “I know your pussy is wet for me
228 / Fiona Zedde

now.” His eyes flickered over her body as if he could see be-
neath her clothes to the thickening cunt lips and the moisture
gathering there. “You want me to go down on you again, or do
you just want to fuck? The bed is right here.” He decided to
change his tone. “Making love in it would be so sweet.”
“I don’t believe in making love.” She said the last two words
with a scornful curl of her lip. “Only in fucking.”
He shrugged. “I’m always down for that, too.”
Ian didn’t go to her. He waited for her to come to him, and
she did.
“Did you bring only one rubber?”
“I’m sure you have some here.” He prayed she did. The last
thing he wanted to do was put his clothes back on and trudge
down to the damn corner store for some condoms.
“You’re right.” Tam smiled. “I do.”
She traced the muscles of his chest with her fingers as
though she couldn’t help herself. Her thumb flicked one nipple.
Then the other. Ian drew in a quick breath. This woman was
playing with him. Every touch of her hand, every smell of her
turned his brain to shit. And she knew it.
Her hands roamed over his chest, tracing its contours and
curves. She touched his throat, squeezing it for a moment, and
then stroked his jaw, his cheeks, and the beginnings of his stub-
ble.
“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?”
It was a rhetorical question. One he apparently wasn’t even
supposed to pay attention to because she pressed close to him,
crushing his hard, aching dick between his stomach and hers.
Tam licked his mouth, tracing his closed lips with her tongue,
begging for entrance with the quiet undulation of her belly
against his dick, until he opened his mouth and let her in. She
tasted like carrots. Her tongue slipped between his teeth, danc-
ing against his tongue while his dick hardened even more and
 P URE P LEASURE / 229

throbbed against her. He pulled briefly away from her to strip

off her skirt and blouse.
Tam didn’t wear a bra. She didn’t need to. Her breasts stood
up perky and firm in the cool air of the bedroom, inviting his
fingers and mouth. He didn’t bother complimenting her. She
had to know how breathtaking she was. Now that the fever of
lust was gone, he could take the time to savor her intoxicating
beauty like fine wine. His hands shaped her body, traced the
long-limbed smoothness of her, the softly sighing, pleasing
length of her that made him feel a little mad, a little drunk, and
a far way down the road to infatuation.
Ian pressed her backward on the bed, bending her lithe body
until they fell onto the surprisingly soft blanket. He grunted
softly. Their kissing was slow and teasing, a biting of lips and
sucking of tongues, and then deep, sweeping tastes of each
other’s mouths that felt so damn good they almost didn’t need
to have sex for Ian to get off. The press of her skin against his
was electric. Her tongue in his mouth, her hands on his ass,
over his back, in his hair, all were driving him slowly insane
with pleasure.
She rolled his balls in her palm while her tongue moved,
sweet and slick, in his mouth. It felt like she was licking his
balls, turning the flesh over on her tongue like candy. Tam
moaned deep in her throat, but it was Ian who reared up, sud-
denly very eager to be inside her. He felt, ridiculously, like a
fourteen-year-old boy again with his first woman, although he
could swear that back then he had more self-control than now.
The bed sighed as he eased her onto her back and slowly
parted her thighs. He was teaching himself control, too. It didn’t
make sense that he wanted her so badly, not when they’d just
had a really amazing fuck in her kitchen. He’d always prided
himself on his self-control where women and sex were con-
cerned. Pleasure was Ian’s way of keeping the women he wanted
230 / Fiona Zedde

captive. Make them love the dick, love his tongue on their
pussy, so they wouldn’t think twice about leaving. Them dying
wasn’t something he could control.
She swallowed him without hesitation. The slick walls of her
pussy welcomed him, sheathed him in liquid pleasure. Ian
arched his neck back, a long, luxurious groan easing its way out
of his throat. No pussy had ever felt this good. None. In a bed
it was even better. Her legs slid up the backs of his calves and
thighs, and she sighed.
He moved deeper inside her, slowly, hitting her clit on the
downstroke. Their breaths came slowly, deeply as they watched
each other, their combined efforts breaking out the sweat on
both their bodies. Ian sank deeply again and then sped up his
rhythm, alternating the deep, heavy fuck with the shallow, clit-
skimming one that made her lips part in surprised pleasure. His
body felt rich with desire for her, his dick, his balls, his muscles
aching to please her even as her molten wetness dragged him
near the brink. The red blanket exhaled the scent of lemons and
rosemary as he propped himself up on his hands and fucked her
harder. He felt the sweat gather in the deep muscles of his back,
flowing down into the crack of his ass. Tam grabbed his biceps
and gasped as her orgasm took her by surprise.
“Ian!” She reared up in the bed, rising up against him, but he
held her, slowing his strokes but still diving against her clit to
prolong her orgasm. He kept on going, and she chuckled
through her sighs of pleasure.
“Are you on a mission?”
“Something like that,” he grunted.
He could fuck her all night. Her fingers skimmed up his
chest, sliding over the muscles slick with sweat. It didn’t matter
that she saw him as young and cocky, only that under him she
sighed and moaned and clung, her legs winding around him like
ropes as the bedsprings creaked and the lamplight flooded over
them, highlighting her pleasure-streaked face and the eyes that
 P URE P LEASURE / 231

grew wider and wider with surprise the longer he lasted and the
more she came. Ian’s muscles began to ache, but he didn’t ease
up.
At one point she might have gasped “stop,” but it became
another “don’t stop,” and her breath reeded in her throat,
climbing up the register of need and pleasure and fulfillment.
She lay beneath him, her face, throat, and chest wet as if she’d
just come from a bath. The sounds of dawn—early work traf-
fic, the fading music of night creatures, dedicated morning jog-
gers—began to filter through the window; only then did Ian let
himself go inside her. He lifted her leg and her ass until she was
perfectly positioned for what he wanted. Her eyes opened even
wider, and she growled. She actually growled. Ian wanted to
laugh, but his dick had control of everything in that moment,
and it only wanted to come.
His hips pistoned into the bed, and he let his voice loose,
grunting and gasping as the feeling, leashed before like a captive
lion, roared in his body until he was shivering with the electric-
ity of it and his back ached and he was coming fast, fast, fast in-
side her pussy. He took her with him. Tam reached back to
hold on to the scrolled headboard, her mouth opened, her back
arched high off the bed, her hips jerking in perfect counterpoint
to his.
“Fuck, yes!”
Their frantic breaths roiled against each other in the after-
math. Ian rolled over and brought Tam’s unprotesting body
with him to lay on his chest. Her breath still came heavily, her
face buried in his neck, and the rest of her body draped over
him. Their lazy sex smell tugged at him, inducing the begin-
nings of lethargy.
He blinked at her ceiling. Fuck. This woman was magic. Ian
hadn’t been able to enjoy himself like this in a really long time.
He sighed and relaxed even deeper into the bed.
“You can’t stay.”
232 / Fiona Zedde

He looked down at Tam. She pushed herself up and away

from him, separating herself from his body and then the bed.
Her lovely ass, damp from their sex, sauntered to the other side
of the room. She plucked her robe from the closet and put it on.
“Sorry.” Her look wasn’t sorry at all.
He sat up in the bed. “Can I take a shower first?”
“Sure.”
Like everything else in this house, the bathroom was built
for comfort. It had a roomy, glass-encased shower fitted with a
radio, CD player, and mirror. The massive tub sat on the other
side of the bathroom with various delicate-smelling, feminine
things neatly tucked away on shelves within arm’s reach. He
climbed into the shower and turned on the water. Tam’s dis-
missal aside, the night had been pure pleasure. He felt like he’d
just come from a particularly good workout. His muscles
pumped thickly with blood and were already aching. After a
quick hair and body shampoo, Ian got out of the shower and
toweled himself dry. In the mirror he was the same as before.
Handsome face, cool eyes, body as strong as always, but inside
was another matter. Inside he was weak and begging. But only
for her.
He walked out of the bathroom and into her gaze. “Thanks
for the shower.”
She sat on the window seat, the same one she’d watched him
from that first time, looking beautiful and sexy and in control
in her flowered robe. But he didn’t miss the way her eyes de-
voured his naked body, lingering only a little on his heavy cock
that they both vividly remembered had been inside her only a
few minutes before. He started to get dressed.
“So are we in one of those on-the-sly relationships, or will
you come out for a drink with me sometime?” he asked.
“I don’t go out for drinks.”
He knew she was bullshitting, but didn’t want to press the
issue.
 P URE P LEASURE / 233

“Not even water?” Well, maybe just a little.

“Sometimes.” A smile came and went on her face. “I do eat,
though. Why don’t you invite me to your place for dinner?”
So she was planning on keeping him secret. “When can you
come?” he asked.
“Anytime.”
That sounded promising. Ian felt his lips twitch. He picked
up the pencil on her bedside table and, on the cover of her
sketch pad, wrote down his address, phone number, and his
name, too, in case she forgot it.
“My schedule is very flexible after six in the evening every
day. I’m off on the weekends and Thursdays. And,” he smiled
as she glanced down at what he’d just written, “you don’t have
to call first.”
“Are you sure about that?” She raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t
a boy like you have at least a dozen little sex bunnies lined up to
fill his evenings?”
“Maybe a boy like me, but this man doesn’t.”
Her lips pursed, and then she smiled. “Point taken.” She
stood up from the window seat. “I’ll call you.”’
And, Ian thought with a wry grin, that was his cue to go.
 7

He was surprised when she showed up on his doorstep the fol-

lowing Thursday bearing gifts.
“May I come in?” she asked as he stood there staring at her
for longer than what was called for. She held a large picnic bas-
ket in front of her with both hands. It looked heavy.
“Please do,” he said, regaining his equilibrium. This was def-
initely a surprise.
This was the first time he’d seen her in black. The slim-fitting,
sleeveless dress skimmed down her shoulders over her pretty
breasts and belly to swirl just above the floor and the silver san-
dals on her feet. As she walked past him into the house, the
scent of green tea and rosemary floated up from her skin. He
almost closed the door on his foot when he noticed the back of
the dress. It was nearly nonexistent, revealing the subtle mus-
culature of her shoulders and back as it dropped from the nar-
row shoulder straps to hug her high ass, hips, and thighs.
“Where’s your kitchen?”
Ian pointed and watched as she walked toward it, her small
but shapely behind twitching like a metronome. He looked on,
 P URE P LEASURE / 235

amazed, as she unloaded her picnic basket on the counter.

Damn. Tam took out a bottle of prechilled white wine, grilled
salmon, asparagus, mashed potatoes, gravy, sliced strawberries,
and two small cakes, all in their own separate containers.
“I thought since I didn’t call to give you time to make din-
ner, I’d bring a little something.” Tam turned and opened cup-
board after cupboard until she found wineglasses. She took out
two and began to set up the small dining table for dinner. “I
hope you’re hungry.”
As a matter of fact, Ian was. He had also been about to go
out for chicken wings and beer with his friends. But that was
obviously not going to happen now.
“Just give me one second.” He went into the bedroom to
cancel on his friends. “Sorry, Eric. Something very unexpected
came up. Tell the guys I’ll see them on the court tomorrow
night.”
His friend made some noises of protest, but eventually said,
“Cool,” and hung up the phone. When Ian got back to the din-
ing area, two places were already set, food on the plates, candles
lit, and the wine poured.
“I’m normally much more domestic than this, but you’ll
have to take what you get tonight.”
“I’m sure I’ll be more than satisfied with your efforts,” Ian
said.
Tam snickered and invited him to sit down. “Come, before
the food gets cold. I had to race over here as it is to make sure
the steam was still on the fish.” She glanced at Ian. “Oh, I for-
got to ask, you do like salmon, don’t you?”
He laughed. “Yes, I do.”
They sat down at the table, facing each other like teenagers
on a first date. She glanced at him over the flickering lights of
the candles, smiling. The salmon was good, tender without
being overcooked, and the butter-simmered asparagus melted
on his tongue.
236 / Fiona Zedde

“Good choice,” he said, indicating the wine. It was a vintage

he had in his cupboard, a light pear-infused wine with just a
hint of the fruit’s sweetness.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
They ate a few more bites, occasionally watching each other
with nothing but the silence between them. Then Ian decided
to break it.
“So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Tam smiled. “Not too much. I was bored sitting at home by
myself. Jasmine’s off on a study date, and I can’t focus on paint-
ing right now.”
“I see.” He wondered if this was a booty call disguised as
dinner. Not that he had a problem with that.
Tam neatly sliced an asparagus stalk in two and then forked
a piece to her lips. She licked off the butter, swirling her tongue
around the abbreviated vegetable before sucking it into her
mouth.
“So, tell me about yourself,” she said. “I feel like I know a
lot about you as a professor, but not too much about Ian Tate,
the man.”
“You know a lot about the man.”
“I want to know more about you than the size of your dick
and how many times you can make me come.”
“Why do you want more than that? I thought all you
wanted to do was fuck.”
“You do get straight to the point, don’t you?”
“I try to. It saves on all the excess bullshit.”
Tam smiled again. “Well, I’m interested in you. Obviously.”
She paused. “We don’t always have to get together for sex.”
“Ah, I see. You think that just because I’m Jasmine’s profes-
sor, things would get complicated. Well, your daughter doesn’t
have to know anything about us. Nobody does.”
She tilted her head to look at him. “I’m not trying to keep
you a secret.”
 P URE P LEASURE / 237

“Really? Then why can’t I take you out to dinner some-

where public?”
Tam blushed. It was the second unexpected thing from her
tonight. Her skin darkened to an even lovelier shade, and she
looked down.
“OK. Scratch that.” She sipped her wine, waving the fingers
of her free hand dismissively. “We’re two reasonably mature
people who enjoy each other’s company. Can you just leave it
at that?”
“I just want to be clear on what’s going on here.” Ian felt the
need to keep this light. Their talk was getting much too serious
much too quickly. “We can get together and fuck, maybe even
have the occasional dinner. But if, say, I had a faculty party to
go to and needed a last-minute date, I shouldn’t bother calling
you, right?”
“Something like that wouldn’t be completely out of the
question,” she said just as facetiously. “Under some circum-
stances I would be able to go with you.”
“That’s a relief,” Ian murmured, his tone dry as desert sand.
Tam rolled her eyes and laughed. They finished their dinner
talking comfortably about nothing too important. Then she
helped him wash the dishes before they went into his cozy
bachelor’s living room and sat on the couch in front of the
darkened television.
“If this were a normal date, I’d ask you to watch a movie
with me,” Ian said.
“Who says this isn’t a normal date?” She leaned over to look
at his meager DVD collection stacked neatly under his IKEA
coffee table. “You want to watch this one?” She sat back with a
copy of Coming to America in her hand. It had been Zoë’s fa-
vorite movie. And with such a simple thing, his wife’s memory
bubbled up in him.
“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “You want some pop-
corn?”
238 / Fiona Zedde

She refused the popcorn, but he got up and went into the
kitchen anyway to get them both glasses of water and a bowl of
M&M’s. Ian swallowed hard as he emptied the packet of candy
into the clear glass bowl. When he walked back into the living
room, she had the movie ready to play in the DVD player. Her
sandals were off and her legs curled up on the sofa. She seemed
innocent and young. For a moment it was easy to forget that
this was the woman who had effortlessly given him the best sex
of his life and seemed to have no problem with a no-strings-
attached repeat performance.
Tam looked up as he neared the sofa; then she leaned toward
the table to pick up the remote. Her bare back, slender and
sleek, glowed briefly in the blue light of the television before
she sat back in her seat. The earlier impression of innocence
vanished when she turned toward him.
“Ready?” she asked.
When Ian sat down, she leaned into him, inviting him to slip
an arm around her. Another surprising move, but he wasn’t
going to complain. Her skin, brushed with that same illusive
green tea and rosemary scent he’d noticed when she first
walked into his apartment, was soft and yielding beneath his
hand. Tam pressed PLAY on the remote control.
The opening credits started, and, for a moment, it was easy
to believe it was Zoë beside him on the sofa, saying for the mil-
lionth time how much she loved Eddie Murphy, although the
Beverly Hills Cop series wasn’t exactly her favorite piece of cin-
ema. But his wife had never called it “cinema,” and she never
smelled like fresh growing things, and she never had bits of red
paint stuck in the corners of her fingernails.
“Are you all right?” the not-Zoë asked.
“Yeah, just a little gas. No big deal.” He lightly thumped his
chest for effect.
“Too much asparagus, maybe,” she said and rubbed the
place over his heart. “Just don’t burp in my hair.”
 P URE P LEASURE / 239

“I’ll try my best not to,” he said. Then she draped an arm
over his sprawled thigh, her hand hovering just above his dick.
All thoughts of Zoë went flying out the window.
But Tam didn’t go any farther. It was just her and her soft
skin and the possibility of sexual contact that made him want to
arch his hips to her hand or move his own hand to her breast
just to take the night to its inevitable conclusion. They watched
the movie in relative silence until it ended with the final happily
ever after, and then Tam was yawning and stretching out her
long legs.
“That was nice,” she said. Her breath smelled like choco-
lates and near sleep as she leaned in toward him. “I’m going.
Jasmine should be home by now.”
His eyes searched her face for some hint that she might be
joking. Did she really just come over here to tease him and then
run back home? Her mouth settled on his, creating a light suc-
tion.
“Good night.”
Before she could pull away he anchored her to him, opening
his thighs wider and pulling her lips closer again. The choco-
lates were stale on her tongue and the sleep flavor bitter, but
Tam was sweet. She twined her slim arms around his neck and
pressed her breasts against him. His dick perked up, blooming
full and hard against her stomach. Ian scraped his blunt finger-
nails gently across her back and felt pleased indeed when she
arched deeper into him and opened her mouth wider for his
kisses. Soon she was kneeling in the sofa, her thighs spread over
him as she held his face and kissed him deeply, saying with her
tongue and her hands and the trembling beginning of a moan
that she wasn’t quite ready to go.
Ian moved his hands to her hips, kneading her soft flesh.
Her dress hiked up, and he was under it, exploring the pieces of
string that made up her panties and then the skin beneath. She
actually moaned when his hand brushed over her shaved pussy,
240 / Fiona Zedde

and her mouth slipped away from him as she gasped. His fin-
gers found her soaked lips and her clit and then lightly stroked
the opening of her pussy. Tam’s head fell back, and she pulled
down the straps of her dress to reveal her breasts. Her nipples
were as hard as the chocolate M&M’s. They didn’t at all melt in
his mouth as his tongue moved over them, tasting and sucking
them while his hand played with her soaking pussy.
He caressed her clit to the rhythm of his tongue on her nip-
ples, and she rewarded him with a long, singing moan. Her
wetness dripped over his fingers, washing over them like sea-
water. She was so slippery, so open he could slide his dick inside
her now with almost no resistance. She would swallow him,
hold him in the sultry vice of her pussy and ride him hard until
they both collapsed with pleasure. The image of it made his
dick throb even more. She gasped again as he slipped a finger
inside her, still stroking her clit with his thumb. Tam raked her
fingers through his hair and down his neck, feeding him her
breasts, her nipples, the gift of her noises. He sped up the mo-
tion of his fingers, and she grasped his head to her chest, nearly
suffocating him in the steamy heat of her breasts. Her hips
started to jerk uncontrollably, her pussy snaked against his
hand, and she was coming, gasping and shuddering in his grasp,
her arms still holding his head tightly to her breasts.
“Shit. . . .” she murmured breathlessly against his hair.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said with a soft laugh.
She pulled away from him, releasing his head to fall back
and let the couch catch her full weight. From the deep olive
green of the sofa, her body looked sated and soft. She smiled at
him, taking a slow visual tour of his body, with a particularly
long stop at the swollen ache in his jeans.
“So,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“Not a thing. I’m good.”
“Really?” She looked at his dick again. It throbbed tellingly
as she licked her lips and then slowly eased a finger between
 P URE P LEASURE / 241

them. She sucked on the finger until it was wet and moving
with liquid ease in and out of her mouth. His dick wanted to
take the place of that finger; it wanted to jump out of his pants
to slide deep into the damp cavern of her mouth. Ian knew he
must look like he wanted it badly. He had that mouth-open,
dick-hot-and-hard expression he’d seen reflected in her eyes a
time or two before.
“No, it’s OK,” he said again. “I’ve got some papers to get to
before tomorrow. If I don’t do it now, it’ll be the weekend. And
I don’t like working through my weekends.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and the motion of her finger
stopped. “You’re serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Ian said.
Tam pushed down her skirts and got up off the sofa. She set-
tled the straps of the dress back on her shoulders and went into
the kitchen to gather up her picnic supplies. From the dim light
of the candles still flickering on the table, Ian watched the al-
most meditative way she moved around his kitchen until she
had all her things in the picnic basket and was ready to leave.
“Thank you for a lovely dinner,” she said. “And an even
more . . . tasty dessert than I had planned.” She stood in the
threshold of his kitchen, basket held in front of her, boldly ap-
praising him again. “I’m disappointed you didn’t take me up on
my offer, but I guess there’s always a next time.”
“I hope so.” He really, really hoped so. Ian wasn’t sure what
he had been gambling on when he had pulled his dick away
from Tam’s mouth, but he hoped it would pay off. Soon.
He walked her to her car, where they exchanged a laughably
chaste good-night kiss. It was early, not quite ten thirty.
Yolanda, his neighbor on the other side of the duplex, hadn’t
even left for work yet. She worked at a classy strip joint, what
they called a “gentlemen’s club,” in town. Yolanda’s Saab con-
vertible still sat in the driveway under its logoed tarp.
242 / Fiona Zedde

“Call me sometime,” Tam said. “Maybe we can do that pub-

lic dining thing you talked about.”
“Definitely.”
He stepped back as she pulled out of his driveway and, after
giving him an awkward little wave, drove off down the well-lit
street.
 8

“So what, or who, did you stand us up for last night?”

“Did that dime next door finally let you hit that?”
“Please say she brought some of her stripper friends home
and you all had a full on orgy.”
“And just because you’re our very good friend, you caught
all the action on tape. Right?”
Ian and his basketball buddies battled each other in a good-
natured game; the men laughingly overtook each other, tossing
the ball back and forth and occasionally making a basket. None
of the men took the game very seriously. They played to work
out and talk shit. And the effects of their biweekly game and
nearly daily workouts—strong physiques, easygoing tempera-
ments, and effortless athleticism—were obvious in each man.
Troy, the investment banker and the only married man among
them, loved to hear about his friends’ single, and sometimes
scandalous, lifestyles. He’d willingly given up his own bache-
lorhood nearly three years ago to a little sous-chef at a local
four-star restaurant. He was too happy to even contemplate
244 / Fiona Zedde

cheating, still, he liked to hear about his boys and their seem-
ingly endless parade of pussy.
“What did I tell you boys about neighbors?” Ian asked,
laughingly sweeping the ball from Eric’s hands and darting be-
hind him to run for the basket. He shot and missed. “Shit!”
“Exactly. Don’t shit where you eat. Common sense.” Eric
threw himself after the ball that was heading dangerously out
of bounds, easily fending off the efforts of his two friends on
the opposite team. “But that woman is a fine, fine thing.” Eric
ran down the court, bare torso gleaming with sweat, the rivulets
running down his slim but muscled back to dampen his dark
blue shorts. He threw the ball toward Rashawn, who ran with
it toward the basket and scored.
Troy caught the ball as it fell out of the net, dribbled, and
then shot it toward Ian. “Just please tell me you got some
footage,” he said. His friends laughed.
“You know Ian is not going to play some girl like that.
Unless, of course, she wants to play like that,” Rashawn said,
intercepting the pass and then darting toward his basket. Ian
blocked him, stole the ball, and, for the first time that night,
made a basket.
“About time,” Ian said.
“So when are you going to tell us, bro? Don’t keep us
hangin’.”
“It wasn’t much,” Ian said. “A friend came over unexpect-
edly and—”
“I knew it. Pay up, Shawn.” Eric laughed. “I told you it was
a woman.”
Ian threw the ball at Eric, who laughed again, caught it, and
tossed it up to easily make a basket. “Thanks, man.”
“So, was it good?” Eric asked.
“Oh, yes.”
Troy caught the ball on its rebound from the basket and
 P URE P LEASURE / 245

slowly dribbled it backward toward the opposite basket.

“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe one day we can do that double-date thing
with you and Tania,” Ian said to him and then turned to his sin-
gle friends. “You fellas need to find some respectable women
before you can come. Strippers you get from the club don’t really
count as dates.”
“Fuck you,” Rashawn said and stole the ball from Troy.
They all knew about Ian’s wife. It was a sad story he’d told
one night three years ago when he was too drunk to know any
better. They knew how she died and how much he missed her.
The fact of his grief never stopped him from fucking nearly
every willing girl when he first moved to Irvine. Now Ian was a
little bit more discriminating in his tastes in one-night stands.
And before Tam, that’s all any of them ever were, whether the
sex lasted for one night, one week, or one month.
“I still think you should hook up with that fine ass next
door,” Rashawn said. “Regular pussy just a doorbell away.”
Eric made a rude noise. “Yeah, another stalker just a door-
bell away.”
“You got that right.”
Although attractive Cali men were scattered everywhere
like sand, when Ian had first arrived in Irvine, the girls had
flocked to him as if he was the only one. The first woman he’d
slept with here turned out to be one of those “America’s Most
Wanted” kind of stalkers, showing up at Ian’s favorite bar every
day, even following him home to beg for another date. Ian didn’t
give her any hints to get. He straight up told her he was inter-
ested in her only for the sex and maybe a drink outside of that.
She hadn’t appreciated his honesty. He ended up paying almost
five hundred dollars to get his keyed Honda Accord repainted.
That psycho hadn’t been the last.
“Since you’re so focused on Yolanda, why don’t you try to
get up in that?”
246 / Fiona Zedde

Rashawn sucked his teeth. “Right. Like I know where that

pussy’s been. Half the damn strippers I know suck dick on the
side. The rest of them turn up their assholes for a gold chain
and a free meal.”
Ian laughed. “You would definitely be in a position to
know.”
They had all been there when Rashawn went through his
hyper-sexed phase and blew an indecent amount of money on
strippers and porn. His friends had all laughed at him before fi-
nally staging a minor intervention that set him straight and gave
him a different perspective on things. These days he was mostly
celibate, with the occasional girlfriend who invariably ended up
looking like a hooker straight out of Pretty Woman, the X-rated
version.
Rashawn sucked his teeth. “Fuck off.”
“Come on, fellas.” Troy laughed and palmed the ball. “This
game is tired. Let’s go grab some beers.”
And that was the end of that.

“He doesn’t have office hours right now.”

Ian looked up from the sheaf of papers on his desk at the
sound his the secretary’s voice.
“It’s OK, I’m not a student. This is a personal visit.”
“Oh, in that case—” Before Ella could finish the sentence,
Tam knocked on Ian’s half-open door and walked in.
Ian leaned back in his chair. She smiled at him.
“Surprise. Again.”
He hadn’t seen her in almost four days. The night after their
“movie date,” he called the number she’d scribbled on his re-
frigerator and left a message. Instead of returning his call, she’d
now showed up at his office.
“Busy?” she asked, coming deeper into the office and clos-
ing the door behind her.
“Not too much to talk to you.”
 P URE P LEASURE / 247

“That’s very gallant of you to say.”

“I’m sure you’re used to men being gallant and chivalrous as
well as everything else just for you. Even the assholes.”
“Unfortunately that’s not quite true.” She sat down in the
chair across from his desk, looking very much like one of his
students in her tight blue T-shirt and a skirt that fell away from
her knees as she crossed her legs. “So, what are you up to?”
“Not too much. Looking at my midsemester student evalu-
ations.”
“I thought profs only gave those out at the end of the semes-
ter.”
“I don’t see any point in doing it then. The students are in
the class now. If I can make their learning experience better
while I still have them as students, then our time together will
be more productive.”
Tam nodded. “That makes sense.” She tilted her head to the
side in that appraising look he was coming to know very well.
Ian pushed aside the evaluations to give her his full atten-
tion. She looked fresh today, a lovely blend of innocent wom-
anhood and coy coed. Funny how that never seemed appealing
in the dozens of younger girls who’d sat in that same chair in
the past.
“I could get used to these visits of yours,” he said.
“Don’t.” Tam smiled as she said it. “I like the surprise of
you. Of us.”
His eyebrow lifted. “I didn’t know there was an us.”
“Mm-hmmm. And isn’t it a nice surprise, like flowers on a
nonspecial day or sex in the afternoon?”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Her nipples were hard under the tiny shirt, and Ian was try-
ing not to stare. Then he shrugged and let his eyes drink their
fill. If she hadn’t wanted him to look, she wouldn’t have worn
the shirt. Tam must have known that her breasts were like suc-
culent little plums peaking under the blue material, just begging
248 / Fiona Zedde

for a brush of his hands. He remembered how sensitive her nip-

ples were, how she hissed from the barest touch of them, how
she couldn’t seem to come without him sucking or playing with
them. Tam shifted and dragged his gaze back up to her eyes.
“So, when are you going to be finished?” she asked.
“It’s hard to say. I have office hours beginning at two.” It
was almost one thirty. “Do you have anything particular in
mind?”
“No. I just wanted to enjoy your company for a few min-
utes before heading back home to do some work.” Tam un-
crossed her legs. “And I do, you know. Enjoy your company.”
She stood up and walked around the desk to where he sat. Her
scent, that same green tea and rosemary blend, teased his nose
as she stepped closer. Tam sat down on his desk, clearing a path
for her bottom with a careless sweep of a hand behind her.
Papers fluttered as they slid over the desk’s surface and then fell
to the floor. Her breasts settled close to his mouth. She looked
down at him, bracing her sandaled feet on the arms of his chair.
“Do you enjoy my company?”
“Very much.”
She wasn’t wearing any underwear. The intimate smell of
her pussy, wet and in need of attention, brought him instantly
up and hard, nearly bursting out of his pants. Tam saw that. She
didn’t miss much. With a curling, catlike smile, she leaned
closer and braced her hands on his shoulders. “I was hoping
you’d have time for me this afternoon.”
Ian groaned. He could see where this was going. This was to
pay him back for the other night when he didn’t fuck her like
she wanted. As much as the idea of those kinds of games usu-
ally turned him off, he was more than ready to play this one.
He wanted to be available for her. But he had at least two stu-
dents signed up to see him this afternoon, and the last thing he
wanted to do was have one of them walk in on him having sex
with Jasmine’s mother.
 P URE P LEASURE / 249

“Why don’t you come by my place tonight?” he asked,

pitching his voice low. “We’ll have the evening all to ourselves,
and I can fuck you for as long as you can stand it.”
She actually pouted, and he laughed. Her face flexed, and
she looked . . . hurt. Tam pushed away from him and stood up,
putting away her gorgeous pussy.
“I don’t think so.” She walked to the door. “Since you don’t
have time for me now, I’m going to leave. Don’t call me.”
Ian watched her close the door quietly behind her.
He spent a few seconds trying to figure out what had just
happened before he jumped to his feet. “Shit.”
His secretary looked up as he burst into the little reception
area, her eyebrow rising to her hairline.
“Where did that woman go?” he asked.
She pointed to the stairs leading down and out of the build-
ing. Ian flew after Tam, banging open the door leading to the
stairs. His tennis shoes slapped against the steps as he raced to
find her. He saw the flash of dark blue and the lighter blue of
her skirt.
“Tam!”
She stopped on the flight of stairs below him and looked up.
“What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you.” Ian slowed down but kept walking
steadily toward her.
“What about?” Her hand landed on the railing, holding
lightly to it as her foot hovered above the next step.
“Your childishness.” He stopped on the stair above her.
She turned fully to face him. “You laughed at me.”
“No, I didn’t. I laughed at the situation, not at you.”
“I was the situation,” she said petulantly but turned into
him only to smile at his exasperated expression. “Jasmine ran
me out of the house today. She said I was being hormonal.”
“Are you?”
“Hell, yes.”
250 / Fiona Zedde

He chuckled.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” She trailed her fin-
gers up the smooth metal railing until they lay next to his.
Quicksilver-fast mood swings. That was one thing he’d forgot-
ten about being with a woman for longer than a few sex-filled
nights.
Ian brushed his hand over her hair and down her long neck
to the warm, slight weight of her shoulders. “What do you
think?”
She chuckled and took the last step to push them together.
Desire slammed between them and ignited like nitro. Her mouth
devoured his, opened wide and hungry. Tam gripped his shirt
and popped one button and then two. Her fingernails scraped
down his chest, bringing up goose bumps and his dick, hard
and harder against her belly.
“Fuck!”
Her hands dived to his pants, quickly freeing his dick. She
held him between her hot palms and dropped quickly to her
knees.
“No.” He swept her back up and against his chest. “I don’t
want that. Not now. Not here.”
Her look was questioning, but when he pushed her back-
ward and turned her belly against the railing, a pleased sound
vibrated in her throat. He kissed her from behind, tangling
their tongues together as her head turned over her shoulder, her
neck twisting back. Tam straddled and, tilting up her bottom,
bled “yes” from her every pore. And Ian was pushing up her
skirt, ripping her panties out of the way, and then sinking into
her gratifyingly wet pussy.
They both groaned. The lust and want rose up in Ian like a
tsunami until he had no control over his body and certainly not
his mind. They froze for a moment like that, pleasure so intense
immobilizing them on that railing, in that stairwell, breaths
 P URE P LEASURE / 251

rubbing raw against each other. Then Tam arched her back and
grunted, pushing back against Ian. He sighed and eased even
more deeply inside her comforting warmth; as he moved faster,
the comfort burned away and the heat became consuming and
they were back to frantic speed again, gasping and groaning in
the narrow stairwell, their noises echoing back at them, the
sweat soaking their clothes. Tam reached back and up to stroke
his face. The simple pressure of her fingertips against his cheeks
stoked Ian’s fire even higher. Her pinkie dipped into the parted
hollow of his mouth, sliding against his tongue as he fucked
her.
Ian heard foreign noises, the door upstairs banging open,
and then voices. It only made him grasp her tighter, fuck her
harder. The voices came lower, and then another door banged
open as the intruders disappeared onto a higher floor. Some
part of him was relieved. He didn’t want anyone to find him
like this, his pants hitched under his ass, his dick buried to the
hilt in the hottest woman he’d ever known. But part of him
didn’t care. It just wanted to feel. It wanted to feel her.
He reached around for her swollen, pulsing clit and took it
between his fingers, stroking her hard just the way she liked it
when she was close to coming. Her mouth opened, and she
cried out, gasping with each thrust, her glorious loudness music
to his ears as she lost her control to him, flinging her pussy
back against him as she held on tight to the railing with one
hand and guided his fingers on her clit with the other.
“Fuck. Yes. Fuck. Yes.” He was nothing and everything in-
side her, incinerated and coming and exploding and dying all at
once.
She came around him, screaming into the palm of his hand.
Tam bit him, and Ian groaned. The pain sent more shock waves
rolling through him, and his hips jerked against her ass. Another
set of voices flowed down the stairs, this time definitely head-
252 / Fiona Zedde

ing toward them. Ian hurriedly tugged up his pants and put his
dick away. Tam groaned and staggered off the railing to tuck
down her skirt and wipe her hands across her sweaty face.
“Come.” Ian tugged her out of the stairwell and into the
bright sunlight. The door closed behind them, locking them
out of the building.
Her breathing wasn’t quite under control when the two stu-
dents came through that same door only moments later, but by
that time she and Ian were far up the path, heading to the front
door of the Humanities building.
“Well,” Tam said. “That was interesting.”
“Very.”
They walked silently to the parking lot toward the conspic-
uous blue of her car, with its gleaming chrome wheels and a
giant wrapped-and-tied rectangular something, a painting, Ian
assumed, sticking up from the backseat beyond the lowered
convertible roof.
“Listen,” he said. “I want to give you something.” He
reached into his back pocket for the piece of paper in his wallet
he’d been carrying around for the better part of a week. “I
wanted to give you this in case we got even more . . . involved.”
“Yeah, I think today counts as more involved.”
It wasn’t that she had come to see him at school, or even that
she’d been emotional with a man she had no intention of mak-
ing her boyfriend. It was simply that they’d fucked, hard and
hot and well. And recklessly without a condom.
“I’m clean,” he said, handing her the piece of paper, his STD
test results.
She blushed and wrapped her arms around herself. “Thanks.”
Tam cleared her throat and looked down. “I guess that was really
careless of me, to let things go that far and not know . . . Shit.”
She looked up at him. “I’m clean, too, Ian. That I can promise
you. So that you don’t have to trust what I say, I’ll bring my
paperwork to you later. OK?”
 P URE P LEASURE / 253

He smiled at her, feeling a sudden tenderness for her well up

inside. “OK.”
She cleared her throat again. “I think you better go now.
You’ll be late for your meetings.”
“Fuck.” He looked up and around toward the gigantic cam-
pus clock that was visible from most places on campus. A few
minutes after two. “Yes.” He backed away from her. “I’ll call
you after my meetings are over. Can you come see me to-
night?”
She nodded, still wrapped in the protection of her arms.
“Yes.”
“Good. Talk to you later then.” Then he was jogging back
toward his office, his skin still hot and smelling like her.
 9

“I just got into an accident,” Tam said as soon as Ian answered

his phone. “Can I meet you at your house later?”
Ian froze. “Where are you? Do you need a ride home? Are
you hurt?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Her voice was firm, if a little preoccu-
pied. “Let me just finish dealing with these cops, and I’ll call
you when I’m on my way.” She hung up before he could ask
any more questions.
It was just after four o’clock. If she was caught in an acci-
dent now, it might be until well after six before she escaped
from the traffic. He thought briefly about calling Eric and ask-
ing his friend to use his connections in the sheriff’s department
to find Tam’s location. But that would be a little bit too much,
to show up at the scene of her accident trying to be her knight
in shining armor when she didn’t even want to be see in public
with him.
At home Ian had a Scotch-and-soda dinner and then sat
down to watch TV. But not even his favorite porn channel with
its constant parade of uninhibited women could take his mind
 P URE P LEASURE / 255

off Tam and what she could be going through right now. When
the doorbell rang a few minutes after eight o’clock, he cata-
pulted off the couch.
“Hey,” Tam greeted him with a forlorn look and an unsuc-
cessful attempt at a smile.
“Hey.”
They stared quietly at each other for a moment; then Ian
looked beyond her to the car sitting in his drive. It was obvi-
ously drivable. The convertible top was up and intact, but the
front end of the Mini wasn’t. The front grille with the Mini
Cooper insignia and license plate was crushed in about three
inches, and one of the front lights winked with bits of broken
glass. But the car was otherwise fine. It dripped wet on the drive-
way’s concrete.
“I just took it through a drive-through car wash. I thought it
would look better.” She sighed. “Take me inside. I don’t want
to see it anymore.”
Ian opened the door for her to step inside. Tam headed
straight for the bedroom, dropping her clothes—sandals, hand-
bag, skirt, blouse—on the floor as she went. Without a word,
she climbed into the bed under the covers.
She curled into herself and stared at him. “I wasn’t paying
attention.”
Ian sat on the bed beside her; then, at Tam’s wordless invita-
tion, got in under the covers with her.
“I wasn’t paying attention,” she said again. “After I left the
gallery I went home to get my STD test results.” She put a cool
hand against his chest. “I knew better than to call you and drive
at the same time, but that didn’t stop me from doing it. I was
halfway through dialing your number when I felt the car jerk
and I heard that fucking loud noise. Shit.” She bowed her head.
He touched the delicate curve of her neck and stroked the fine
hairs he found there.
“Sorry, Tam.”
256 / Fiona Zedde

“I should have fucking known better,” she hissed into his

chest.
“It’s all right, baby. We can fix it.”
She sniffled and then sank deeper into the bed.
“We can fix it.” He continued stroking Tam’s neck, calming
her until the sound of her deep, even breathing hovered in the
room and she fell asleep.

He was in heaven. A hot, humid heaven that smelled like

mouthwash and rosemary shampoo and Tamarind. His body
felt awash in sensations, liquid heat dancing through his veins,
the cool AC humming across his bare chest, and his dick swal-
lowed by someone who knew exactly what she was doing. Ian
groaned and arched himself deeper into Tam’s wet mouth. The
same mouth that had tugged him from a dream of zooming
across a California beach in an intact Mini Cooper with a smil-
ing woman by his side.
In the dream he had looked down in consternation as his
dick rose up between him and Tam in the car, tenting under his
loose, linen pants. Then she was reaching for him, not paying
the slightest attention to the sandy road ahead. Her mouth
tugged him from that dream, and he opened his own mouth to
say something and groaned instead. She swallowed him up in
sweetness, sliding him ferociously against the back of her
throat, in the hot tundra of her mouth, until his body was a hot,
hard, yearning instrument with only one explosive purpose.
Her head nodded over him, telling him yes, it was all right,
even as her fingers caressed his balls, played with the super-
heated cum that was ready to anoint her mouth if she let it. He
watched the length of his thickly veined dick impossibly appear
and disappear at the gateway of her mouth; then she was telling
him “Yes, faster,” and he couldn’t watch her anymore because
his head fell back and his whole world was going up in flames
behind his tightly closed eyelids.
 P URE P LEASURE / 257

When the planet rearranged itself, he opened his eyes to her

straddling his belly, her damp pussy a hot exclamation mark
against his skin.
“Morning,” she said.
“Is it?”
“Yeah, it’s a bit past six.” Her face swam in pleasure as she
rubbed her pussy against the hard muscles of his belly.
She shifted over his skin again, and he watched as she plea-
sured herself, using his body like an oversize dildo.
“Let me help you with that,” he said and then pulled her up
until she was crouched above his face and her shaved pussy was
open to his seeking mouth. Damn, she was wet. At the first
touch of his tongue, she shuddered.
Her hands grasped the headboard, her fingers fitting neatly
around the dark cherry bars as she settled herself more com-
fortably on his face. Heavenly. She was heavenly. The soft
weight of her thighs caressed his cheeks, pointing up to the wet
center of her that at this very moment claimed all his attentions.
Tam smelled like sleep and wonderful awakening. The deep
pink of her pussy captivated and aroused, making his mouth
salivate for another taste. He licked her again, and she hummed.
The soft licks became greedy slurps, and he fit his mouth on
her—like she was made just for him—sucking and licking her
creamy pussy while she danced on his mouth. Her breasts
bounced and trembled with each snakelike undulation of her
body. He reached up to grasp her nipples and breasts, gradually
tightening the pincers of his fingers until she moved faster, her
slow belly dance giving way to the hectic salsa-and-sweat-fueled
merengue, and she threw her head back, breathing heavily, gasp-
ing, both hands holding on to her head as if she was afraid it
would fly off.
“Ia—” His name broke off with a wailing groan and then
another. He held her hips as she came, even when she pitched
258 / Fiona Zedde

sideways to the pillows next to him, her hips still jerking as his
mouth lightly soothed her clit.
“No, stop. . . .” She moaned. “Too much.” Her trembling
hand pushed him away.
He released her, pulled her down and over to him, watching
her soft, sweating face as she wiped a limp hand over her eyes
and forehead. “Damn. You give amazing head.”
“It is one of my many skills.”
She opened an eye to check to see if he was joking. Tam
laughed at his smirking face and then closed her eyes again.
“That was so lovely.”
“I could say the same to you. That mouth of yours should
be insured.”
“We’re quite a pair. Maybe we should go into business to-
gether?”
“That’s all right. I like my current job, thanks. And I suspect
that you like yours too much to give it up for a nine-to-five
sucking dick and taking home your pay in cash.” Ian consid-
ered it. “Your mouth would get rubbed raw and tired, wouldn’t
it?”
“For you, I can go all night,” she murmured, watching him
for some response.
“I might give you a chance to prove that statement.”
“Anytime.”
Now was as good of an “anytime” as any. But five seconds
after the thought floated through Ian’s mind, he dismissed it.
He didn’t want her to suck his dick all morning, he wanted to
make love to her. Although, she wasn’t really into that. Fucking
was all she was in this for.
“I have a better idea of something you could do with your
mouth.” He nuzzled her throat and the hot space between her
collarbones. “Tell me what you want me to do for you. Tell me,
what’s your pleasure?”
She laughed as he nibbled on her shoulders. “You’re off to a
 P URE P LEASURE / 259

pretty good start.” The laughter became a groan when he licked

her breasts, teasing the stiffened nipples with his tongue and
teeth. Tam sighed and moved restlessly against the sheets.
“So, tell me what you want.”
“I want,” she sighed again and arched her breasts against his
mouth, grabbing his head to hold him to her, “I want this.”
“Be more specific.” He spoke around the swell of a nipple.
“Tell me everything you want. Everything.”
“I . . . I want . . . I want you to lick my nipples hard, just like
you’re doing now . . . and I want your fingers in my cunt. I
want you to fuck me with your fingers. You’re really good at
that.” She squirmed against his fingers. “Yes, just like that . . .
only my clit, yes, touch my clit. Ah . . .” Ian heard the smile in
her voice.
He caressed the soft, slippery bud between his fingers, teas-
ing it gently and then slowly building the pressure until her
breathing came erratically and she was pressing her thighs open
wider for him.
“Put your fingers inside. Yes . . . yes. Just like—Ian, yes. . . .”
She made a wordless noise, thrusting her hips faster until the
bed was singing with her movements and Ian worked beside
her, his dick a hard weight pressed against her thigh. His hand
ached, but still he fucked her, fucking her greedy pussy and
stroking her clit.
“Fuck me, please don’t stop that . . . please!” Her back
arched abruptly from the bed, and her arm flung out. “Ian!”
Her pussy seized rhythmically around his fingers, and her
juices poured out. He continued moving, rubbing his dick
against her thigh, pumping his fingers inside her. She twitched,
gasping.
“I came,” she said into the quiet room.
He moved steadily down her body. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure—oh!” She lost her breath and arched up,
caught unawares by his mouth on her pussy.
260 / Fiona Zedde

Ian chuckled. With a low sigh, he dove into the loamy wet of
her, delving his tongue into her pink heat, licking and sucking
the slick pussy lips that fanned out like taffy. Tam was the
sweetest woman he’d ever tasted. He could eat her pussy all
day and never be full. She arched against his mouth.
“I want to see your face,” she murmured. “I want to watch
you while you fuck me.”
He needed no other invitation but that. Her pussy wel-
comed him, opening up and swallowing his entire length. Then
he was the one gasping. He plunged deeply inside her, the plea-
sure building even higher with her eyes on his face. Ian
groaned, and he lost control of his hips, sinking into her again
and again. He burst inside her.
“Oh, god, Tam . . . Tam.”
He must have blanked out for a moment. The next thing he
knew, Tam was gently rolling him off her and then snuggling
against his chest. She sighed, all quiet and soft, like she’d just
discovered something wonderful and was still taking time to
sort it all out.
Tam was a puzzle. Not quite the mysterious and hard
woman he’d taken her for in the beginning, but not exactly the
accommodating, ever-sexed creature in his dreams either. She
lay in his arms, a kitten with her claws firmly sheathed, practi-
cally purring in his bed and cuddling up to him. He could defi-
nitely get used to this.
“Who is that in the picture?” She wriggled her bottom
against him as she pointed to an old photo of Zoë. It was the
one of her in front of the dojo where she had taught tai chi and
practiced capoeira. Zoë was smiling, looking shy as she half
turned away from Ian’s camera, peeking at him through her
hair.
“My wife.” Tam stiffened in his arms. Before she could say
anything, Ian touched her gently on the shoulder. “She died al-
most five years ago.”
 P URE P LEASURE / 261

“Oh. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Why would you?”
She looked at him. They hadn’t shared very much with each
other beyond their bodies and some test results. So far, all he
knew about her was that she loved to paint and was good
enough at it not to have to make money doing anything else.
He knew how she liked to fuck, how she sounded when she
came, but those were things strangers could know, too.
“Do you miss her?”
“Sometimes. Less and less these days.” He left her to inter-
pret that any way she liked. Ian glanced at the clock. “I have to
get ready for work. You want to shower with me?”
“No, go ahead. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He took his time in the shower, massaging the water into his
sore muscles and over the scratches she’d left along his back,
shoulders, and arms. She had been more uninhibited this morn-
ing than she’d ever been, not that he had much of a basis for
comparison. But Tam had been loud, clinging to him and then
flinging him from her with a wildness he hadn’t experienced
with her before. He knew she had bruises, too. Ian walked into
the bedroom, drying himself. She was exactly where he had left
her, lying on her stomach in the bed. Her head turned to watch
him.
With quick, efficient movements, Ian rubbed the last of the
moisture from his body and then put on boxers, socks, and
jeans.
“You’re a gorgeous man,” she said.
This was the first time she’d called him a man and not a boy.
“You mentioned that when we first got together. Does it
bother you?” He turned, shirtless, to her.
She smiled. “Not anymore.”
He looked at her, at her legs swaying to and fro in the bed,
her back lovely and bare in the late morning light. “That’s not
usually something that makes most women uneasy.”
262 / Fiona Zedde

“I’m not most women.”

“True, that.” He pulled a long-sleeved shirt from the closet.
“That color looks really good on you.” She turned over, and
the sheet fell from her, showing off her beautiful throat and
breasts. “Red doesn’t do it for every man.”
“I’m not most men.”
They both chuckled. Ian watched her as he buttoned his
shirt. She seemed especially comfortable and in no mood to
leave the cozy confines of his bed. It was easy to imagine stay-
ing in bed with her all day, fucking and talking and fucking
some more. But he had students, and they paid tuition so he
could come to class and pass on his pearls of wisdom, even if
they had been scattered beyond recovery by Tam and her
amazing pussy.
Ian put on his loafers and then took a few quick passes over
his hair with the brush. When he walked near the bed, her eyes,
lit with a soft, appreciative light he could definitely learn to get
used to, followed him.
He opened the drawer to the bedside stand and took out his
spare keys. “Take these, and let yourself out whenever you’re
ready. The alarm code is one-two-four-four. Punch it in, and
then hit ENTER before you leave. Same thing when you come
in.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead and then her
slightly open mouth. She tasted like sleep and cum. “I’ll talk
with you later.”

For most of the day his mind was back at home with her in
bed. All the while he was talking about Dorothy West and
Angelina Grimke, he was inside Tam, ramming his blood-filled,
straining dick into her from behind as she urged him on with
her hoarse shouts and held on to the bars of the headboard,
their breaths sounding harsh and loud in the air. While his stu-
dents dissected the lyrics to the music of the Harlem Renaissance,
he heard the symphony of their voices from this morning, Tam’s
 P URE P LEASURE / 263

husky voice telling him to fuck her and make her come and eat
her pussy and go deeper and don’t fucking stop!
Ian taught most of the class from behind the shield of his
desk, only rising once near the end of class to write the next
homework assignment on the board. By then the throbbing
size of his dick had subsided enough for it to be not quite so
obvious. He used his hour break between classes to call her.
“Where are you?” he asked. Ian wanted to fuck. He wanted
to fuck her. Badly.
“Nowhere near you.” She laughed at the need in his voice.
“When are you done?”
“Not until after seven. Maybe even eight. I have a meeting.”
“Call me when you’re finished. Maybe I can meet you
somewhere.”
“Sounds good.”
Ian tucked away his cell phone. Get ahold of yourself. This
woman is not feeling you like that. Chill. But neither his dick
nor heart was paying attention.

When Ian walked into his office at half past five, his secre-
tary covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “I have good news
for you,” she said. “Your meeting for tonight got canceled.”
“How did you know that’s good news for me?” he asked,
not bothering to hide his smile.
“Just a hunch.” She laughed and went back to her phone
call.
During his lunch break, Ian had read the local independent
paper and was surprised to find a nearby gallery with a list of
familiar area artists showing through the end of the month.
Tamarind Hannah’s name was on the list. The gallery, Epoch,
wasn’t far from his house, so Ian decided to make a quick stop
by there on the way to his favorite Thai restaurant to pick up
dinner for him and Tam.
Although it was relatively late in the evening for galleries on
264 / Fiona Zedde

this side of town to be open, there were still a fair amount of

cars in Epoch’s parking lot. All of them high-end rides, includ-
ing a tricked-out Corvette and a silver Bentley. Ian pulled his
Honda Accord into the lot, feeling more than a little poor.
Tam’s accident-ravaged Mini was nowhere in sight.
He got out of his car to walk across the street to Epoch,
waiting by the parking meter on the curb to let the last of the
evening traffic pass. Epoch’s building was elegant and stood out
nicely from its neighbors with its glass and steel facade and the
exotically colored orchids lining the bottom of the glass walls
like scented sentries, their heads bowing gracefully toward any-
one passing by. From the street he could see that there were
more than a few people inside, all staring round-eyed at the art
around them.
As he was getting ready to cross the street, a familiar flash of
blue and then brown caught his eye. The elements coalesced
into Tam, lovely and springtime in a flowing blue skirt and a
white halter top that clung to her. Ian smiled. He lost the smile
when she touched an unfamiliar man. She smiled up into his
face and slipped a hand in his. The man bent his head to kiss
her, and Tam turned away coyly, her eyes looking down and
away in a way Ian had never seen. The stranger drew her face to
his with one fingertip under her chin and then kissed her hard
on the mouth.
A car honked its horn and screeched on its brakes, jolting
Ian from his near sleepwalk into the street.
“Sorry, man,” he said to the driver and held up an apologetic
hand. “Sorry.” He walked back to his car and sat behind the
wheel.
That wasn’t right, whatever he just saw. His eyes were play-
ing tricks on him. Ian made to get out of the car again and then
stopped himself. Cool it. Drive. Go home. He started the car,
pulling out carefully into the street and turning the opposite
way from home, just so he wouldn’t have to drive past the
 P URE P LEASURE / 265

gallery. He passed the restaurant where he was supposed to get

their dinner. Nothing special, just some salad, sweet tofu bites,
and fruits she liked—small things made especially for lovers so
they wouldn’t be too full to have sex and then eat and have sex
again. Now the sight of the restaurant’s red door made him feel
sick. And angry.
Ian wanted to call her, wanted to curse and drink a tall glass
of Scotch and shake her and ask her what the fuck was going
on. But he didn’t like to drink on a school night, and he’d never
shaken a woman in his life. His eyes felt gritty and dry, as if the
sand off the beach had blown up to blind him or make him see
things that weren’t there. Like her faithfulness or what he
thought was her growing infatuation with him. Why the hell
was she in another man’s arms when he was making plans to ro-
mance and woo her? Why was he the fool?
He drove back to the gallery. By the time he pulled back into
the space he’d vacated before, most of the cars were gone. Only
one, a sleek, two-door Bentley, remained in its spot. He locked
the car and walked to the front doors of the gallery. The lights
had dimmed, but he tried the door anyway. It was open. A
melodious, electronic chime sounded as he walked inside.
Tam appeared from a hidden back room. “I’m sorry, we’re—”
Her words fell away when she saw him.
“Where’s your car?” he asked.
She shook her head as if to clear it of an illusion. Of him.
“It’s in the shop. The one you saw outside is a loaner.”
A loaner Bentley. Impressive. Her new man (or was he an
old one?) must be rolling in the dough.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” he said.
“I don’t. Epoch belongs to a friend of mine. I’m minding the
store until she gets back to town.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything, merely watched her as
she walked to the front door to lock it but not before peering
into the street, first in one direction and then another.
266 / Fiona Zedde

“Expecting someone?”
“No, just checking for customers.”
“I thought this place was closed.”
“It is.”
She turned to face him. “How did you find me here?”
“By accident. I was heading to Bangkok House when I
stopped by to check out some of your work. The paper said
you and a few other artists had work showing here.”
“Oh.”
“Why did you ask me how I found you? Did you think I
was stalking you? Or that I found out something you didn’t
want me to know?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, but
her look didn’t affect him like before. The cracks in her facade
were laughably apparent, especially from this distance. “Like
what?”
“Don’t be coy, Tam. Like your other lover. The guy whose
dick I saw you practically sucking in front of everybody in this
damn gallery two hours ago. I didn’t know you had another
toy on the side.” He circled her, coming gradually closer. Her
arms shifted over her chest, but otherwise she didn’t move. Her
expressionless face made his anger flare even higher.
“So this guy I saw you with, what’s his name?”
“Garrett.” She sighed. “His name is Garrett.”
Ian nodded as though giving thoughtful consideration to the
name of the guy she’d been fucking the whole time they were
together. “Is he the ‘friend’ who owns the beach house you
took me to that first time?”
Her cheeks darkened, but she didn’t drop her gaze. “Ian,
don’t make a big deal—”
“Is he?”
She sighed again. “Yes.”
“Was he watching us have sex the whole time? Did it turn
 P URE P LEASURE / 267

him on to know that my dick was inside your pussy, the same
pussy he was going to be drinking from later that day?”
She flinched. “No. I’m not sure what he saw, but . . . but I
really do feel for you, Ian.”
“Feel what? Feel your pussy get wet every time you see me?
I already know that. And you and I both know that’s nothing
special.”
She had the nerve to look hurt.
“Don’t goddamn get that look on your face.” The look
pierced him and made him regret his hard words, but she was
just playing him. Again. Ian moved toward her anyway, touch-
ing her face and bringing her close. “Shit.” She kissed him.
“Shit.”
He tasted tears in her open mouth. She held his cheeks tight
between her flattened palms. “I’m sorry,” she said between
their kisses. “I am. I’m sorry.”
What the fuck did that mean? That she was sorry he found
out and put an end to her playtime? Ian tried to pull gently
away, but she slipped her hands behind his head and held him
close. Her teeth scraped against his closed lips, nibbling, biting,
hurting. He wrenched himself away.
“Stop it.”
She came toward him again, and he had to grab her shoul-
ders to hold her back. “Stop fucking with me, Tam. I think
you’ve had your fun. We’re finished.”
She wriggled and flailed in his grip.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked. “Isn’t this what all
your advance-and-retreat bullshit was about? You wanted to
fuck me but not get too involved? Well, you’ve already had
your fuck, and I’m leaving. All you had to say was ‘it’s over.’
What’s so fucking hard about that?”
“This is not over,” she hissed.
“Just because you say so?” He laughed. “You’re a fucking—”
268 / Fiona Zedde

She twisted from his grip and spun close, slamming into his
chest. “You know it’s not over between us, Ian. You know it.”
She pressed her hand against his chest. “This doesn’t lie. Neither
does this.” Her other hand on his dick froze him. It wasn’t her
boldness that held him immobile. No, it was because his dick,
like an obedient dog, rose on command for her, stiffening be-
hind the thin cotton of his slacks and pushing back against her
hand. Ian swallowed.
“Stop it,” he hissed again.
But she didn’t stop; instead she stepped closer, pushing at
him, assaulting his senses with her body’s perfume and the in-
toxicating pressure of her hand against his dick. Her touch
grew more certain the longer he stood there, unmoving. He
could never say no to her. And a part of him asked now; why
did he have to? She pressed back at him until his back was to
the wall and his dick was throbbing just for her and his heart
was a jackhammer in his chest. Did she even realize how far
gone he was?
Ian grasped her shoulders again to hold her back from him.
Her eyes were certain of his surrender, on her terms. Fuck that.
Ian leaned in and kissed her like this was the last time he was
ever going to taste her lips. He devoured their pouty curve,
their damp insides, and sucked hard on the tongue that flick-
ered and writhed against his. She moaned and pressed her body
to him. They were in a duel of wills, each wanting to dominate
the other, each expressing it in the same way, but Ian was fueled
with anger and lust and frustration. He lifted her, draped her
unprotesting body over one of the exhibition pieces, a hip-high
wooden carving with a dipped curve that fit her back perfectly.
It was just long enough to fit her hips and back while her head
dangled over the edge. She lay on it, trying to find purchase
with her hands, but the wood was too smooth and her body
was just beginning to sweat. He tore away her skirt and under-
wear, leaving her lower body completely exposed and her bare,
 P URE P LEASURE / 269

damp pussy gleaming in the gallery lights. With one quick move-
ment of his hand her camisole was on the floor. The dark tips of
her breasts jumped with each quick breath.
Tam fumbled for Ian’s belt, but he pushed her and her hands
back, still kissing her mouth, her chin, her jawline, biting her
smooth skin until she flinched with pain and pleasure, her body
floating up and down with each touch of his teeth. He combed
his fingers through her pussy lips, coating them with her slick-
ness. This was going to be the last time for them. This was it.
His chest tightened, and his heart raced faster. Ian slid his fin-
gers against her clit, massaging her pussy until she gasped and
moaned, a surging symphony of sex that reminded him too
much of this morning’s pleasure. He tasted her with his fingers
and found she was wet inside, drenched and ready for him.
Tam surged up again, still trying for his belt and his stiff
cock that begged shamelessly for her touch. Ian pushed her
back but didn’t stop there. She obviously wanted something.
He was going to give it to her. The belt left their loops with an
audible slide. He loosened the top button of his pants and
pulled down the zipper but that was all. When Tam reared up
again, he captured her hands in the noose of his belt, pulling the
leather through the buckle until her wrists were snared to-
gether. He fit his hips into the vee of her thighs.
“What—what are you—uh!”
He surged into her. She fit around him like hot, molten mo-
lasses, thick and engulfing, swallowing up all his senses. This
time he wasn’t worried about the buildup, he wasn’t worried
about her orgasm, only that she felt his need, all his desperation
for her that had come to nothing.
“What does he do for you that I can’t?” He fucked her. “Is it
the money? Is it that overpriced car? Or is it the way he treats
you like shit because you always come back for his scraps?”
He fucked her hard against the sculpture. Her body slid
back and forth across the smooth surface, but only as far as his
270 / Fiona Zedde

pounding hips and the tightened belt held in his fisted hand
would allow. Her body was an erotic arc of leaping breasts, liq-
uid cunt, and heaving belly. A Venus hewn in onyx and stretched
to its very limits under the gallery’s soft lights.
His mouth opened in that sweltering O of desire. His hips
pistoned, his body tightened. All his muscles leaped toward
Tam and her weeping pussy, toward her writhing body and the
siren call of her wails under him.
“Does that feel good?” He gasped the question, although
the liquid slide of his dick and her gasping cries made the ques-
tion moot.
As she gasped a yes, he twisted his hips, changed the angle
until she was crying out. He grabbed her thigh and threw her
leg over his shoulder.
Everything bubbled up inside him then, his stupid love for
her, his tattered pride. It didn’t matter who saw them through
the gallery’s clear glass windows—all that mattered was her,
under him, telling him yes.
“Fuck me!” She panted. “Harder. Yes. Yes!”
He gave her everything she asked for and more. Winding his
hips, twisting her nipple, sweating above her until a high, keen-
ing wail announced the beginning of her come.
“Oh, God! Oh—fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop!”
He didn’t stop. He could never stop. Even after her body
shuddered and clutched at him—once, twice, three times—Ian
kept on going. He pounded away at her until he was coming,
too, throwing his head back and thrusting into her, jerking her
sweat-slick body across the sculpture. He was dying. Jesus! He
was dying.
“It’s OK, baby,” she said. “It’s OK.”
His body shuddered and gave up the last of its seed to her,
and then he was pulling out of her and turning away. He cov-
ered himself with the tail of his shirt and pulled his pants
quickly up. With a disgusted sigh at himself, he wiped his hand
 P URE P LEASURE / 271

across his face, and then he reached over Tam to retrieve the
belt he’d used to restrain her.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, buckling his belt. He backed away
as she sat up. “I’ll see you around.”
“That’s it?” She looked stricken and breathless, like a well-
fucked woman who wanted more.
“That’s it.” Ian unlocked the gallery door and walked away
from Tam without looking back.
 10

“I wish things didn’t have to be like this.” Jasmine looked at

him with pleading eyes.
“It’s all right, Jasmine.” He tried to smile. “There’s nothing
to worry about. Your mother and I are finished.”
The clock above his office door ticked away the eighteenth
minute past two, almost half an hour since Jasmine had walked
into his office and told Ian she knew what had happened be-
tween him and her mother.
“She can be really thoughtless sometimes. I’m sorry about
whatever it was that she did. But she misses you, I think. She’s
just too stubborn to say it.”
Ian shifted with impatience as each word Jasmine spoke
poked at him, made him remember and cringe with disgust at
the fool he’d made of himself over Tam. “Whatever your
mother and I had is in the past. Let’s just leave it there.”
Jasmine looked down. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. None of it’s your fault.” But part of
him did believe it was her fault. If it weren’t for Jasmine, he
wouldn’t have met Tam. Then again, if it hadn’t been for his
 P URE P LEASURE / 273

dick, he wouldn’t have gotten into her car that first day, he
wouldn’t have fucked her on the beach, and he wouldn’t be in
the frozen hell he was in now. “It’s not your fault,” he said
again.

She didn’t come to him in dreams anymore. Ian didn’t know

whether to be grateful or pissed off. He did the same things he
did before, went to work, ate, slept, saw his friends. But under-
neath it all lay her nagging absence. Thoughts of Zoë no longer
comforted him. He couldn’t even rely on the old pain of miss-
ing her to take his mind off Tam. Something inside him had fi-
nally put Zoë to rest.
Although it was only a small comfort, he knew that Tam was
thinking about him. She tried to call. He saw her name on the
caller ID when the phone had rung once and then stopped. But
he wasn’t going to call back and make it easy for her. Obviously
whatever she had to say to him she also knew he didn’t want to
hear.

“You look like shit,” Eric said, sitting down next to Ian on
the bar stool.
“Thanks,” Ian muttered. He knew his exhaustion-ravaged
face and disinterested expression weren’t the sexiest things to
bring to the bar, but that was all he had today.
“Did that woman come back to you yet?”
“She’s not coming back, and I don’t want her back.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Eric signaled the bar-
tender and ordered a Corona and lime. “If she walked in here
right now and dropped to her hands and knees to beg, you
would gladly take that bitch back.” Eric nodded his thanks to
the bartender and passed her his credit card. “Start a tab for me,
honey.” He turned back to his friend. “In fact, I can’t think of
any circumstances in which you wouldn’t take her back. You’re
pussy whipped.”
274 / Fiona Zedde

Ian had told Eric about Tam over a month ago, even shown
his friend a photograph of her. That was before they had
stopped seeing each other, when things had been at their most
explosive. Eric was all sympathy and voyeuristic interest. Of all
Ian’s friends, he was the one who understood about the sheer
power of lust and its ability to blast away all reasonable thought
and need. When Ian told him about the other man, Eric had
shrugged philosophically. “A hot woman like that, of course
she has some on-the-side dick, which, by the way, might have
been you.”
“I was whipped,” Ian said in response to his friend’s earlier
comment. “Now I’m over it.”
“Right.” Eric took a deep drink of his beer. “What would
you do if you saw her right now?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Eric. I’m not in the mood.”
“You better think about it, because your hot piece just
walked in here with some other Negro. Don’t turn around,
fool. Be cool.”
But Ian was past the point of trying to be cool. He was ice
cold. His friends may be able to tell that the woman had taken
everything when she left—his heart, his balls, even his libido—
but to the rest of the world, he was the same as usual. He
watched her in the mirrored wall behind the bar.
She was in his bar with someone else. Not the one she’d left
him for. Tam was all over the guy, leaning into him as they
walked around the bar looking for a place to sit. When they sat
down on an overstuffed couch in the corner, she tucked herself
into the crook of his arm like a child. The man teased her,
played with one of her pointy ears, trying to get her to laugh.
But he was nothing to worry about. Tam obviously wasn’t his
type.
“Oh, honey, please!” the man trilled. “Butch up, and get
over it.”
 P URE P LEASURE / 275

“Never mind,” Eric said. He went back to sucking on his

beer.
But Tam was now firmly in Ian’s mind. He watched as Tam’s
companion left her to get drinks at the bar near where Eric and
Ian sat. The man’s eyes passed over them with casual interest
before leaning in to kiss the bartender on both cheeks. They
chatted as the woman made his drinks. He didn’t say anything
about Tam. Ian was listening while his eyes stayed firmly
locked on Tam in the mirror. Her gay boyfriend went back to
her with drinks, and she thanked him with a smile and that fa-
miliar coy tilt of her head. Ian knew the exact moment when
she saw him.
She froze and almost spilled her drink. He took a large swal-
low of his beer and watched her in the mirror, daring her to look
away. Tam looked tired, like she’d been spending some long,
hard nights fucking her sugar daddy. But she was still beautiful.
“Hey, sorry we’re late,” Rashawn said, breezing in with
Troy. “That traffic from downtown’s a bitch.”
“It’s cool,” Eric said. “You didn’t miss anything except Ian’s
little girlfriend loving on some gay boy over there in the cor-
ner.”
“Serious?”
“Not really. I think she’s just trying to take her mind off our
boy. Look at her.” Eric nodded toward Tam. “She can’t keep
her damn eyes in her own business.”
“Shit, then let’s give the bitch something to look at.”
Before Ian could tell Rashawn to cool it, his friend wrangled
a trio of cuties, what used to be Ian’s type—slim shoulders, big
asses, and tiny waists—to entertain the boys for the evening.
Although Rashawn’s brawny athlete’s physique and easy charm
got them over there, the moment the girls got a good look at
Ian, they forgot about everybody else.
“If I wasn’t trying to make this fool feel better, I’d push him
276 / Fiona Zedde

out of this bar so the rest of us can get a little piece of the ac-
tion,” Rashawn said.
“Speak for yourself. I’ve got no problems getting mine,”
Eric said.
“Whatever, man.” Troy laughed. “Don’t work too hard to
convince yourself.”
The girls slid up to Ian, each trying to get him to notice her
over the others. The winner made herself at home in the vee of
his spread thighs. Her friends gave up the fight and turned to
Eric, Troy, and Rashawn to make halfhearted conversation.
“Hey,” the bold one purred, rubbing her palms up his
thighs, “my name is Tanisha. What’s yours?” Never mind that
Rashawn had introduced everyone not five minutes before.
Was this girl deaf?
He told her his name, wondering how far she would go with
her hands before she struck gold.
“What a coincidence,” she said. “I have I, A, and N in my
name, too.” She chuckled and leaned closer. “I’d love to have a
little more Ian in me.” Tanisha laughed at her own joke and
brushed her breasts against his chest. Her hands gripped the
tops of his thighs, pressing up the material of his pants to em-
phasize the shape of his dick under the cotton.
“Excuse me.” Ian looked up, surprised, when Tam came
over. “Can I talk with you for a minute?” she asked.
“Go find your own man, honey.” The younger woman gave
Tam a dismissive once-over. “This one’s taken for the night.”
Ian shook his head and forced a laugh. Tam didn’t look too
happy, but it could just have been the inconvenience of having
to deal with someone like Tanisha. “Give me a sec,” he said,
pulling away from the girl. She reluctantly released him while
keeping a jaundiced eye on Tam.
His ex-lover guided him away from the main part of the bar
 P URE P LEASURE / 277

to one of its quieter rear lounges. There were couples seated

back there and a few threesomes, too, leaning close and talking
intimately together. She sat down on one of the deep purple
velvet love seats and invited him to do the same.
“It’s good to see you,” she said.
“Is that what you called me in here to tell me?” He could
feel himself weakening, feel her scent twine around his senses,
pulling him back to where he was almost a month ago.
“No.” She looked into his face as though she was searching
for something. “No.” Tam bit her lips together and then
clasped her hands in her lap. She sighed. “I’ve never had to beg
a man for anything in my life. Never.”
“I don’t want you to beg me for anything.”
“Are you sure about that?” She shook her head. “No, I’m
sorry, that’s not how I wanted this to go. Just listen.” Tam
sighed again. “I miss you. I want to see you. I want us to be
lovers again.”
“Are you still seeing that other guy?”
Tam pursed her lips. “Yes, I am.”
Ian held himself still, willing the disappointment not to
show on his face. “This conversation is over. It was good seeing
you.” He stood up.
“Ian, please. You don’t understand.”
He looked down at her. “Don’t beg me for anything, Tam. If
you want me, here I am. If you want him and me and every
other piece of dick that catches your eye, then you can beg until
your tongue falls out and your tail wags off. It’s not going to
happen. I would say ‘sorry,’ but I’m not.”
He forced himself to take a step, and then two, away from
her. “Enjoy yourself tonight. Enjoy your life. I hope you find
whatever it is you’re searching for.”
No matter how many times he did it, walking away from
278 / Fiona Zedde

Tam never got any easier. Ian went back out to the bar, wiping
his face clean of any real emotion. Tanisha was more than
happy to reclaim her place between his thighs, and he let her,
even buying her a drink to make himself seem more welcom-
ing. He never noticed when Tam left.
 11

“The royal penis is clean, your highness.”

Ian couldn’t even smile as he watched one of his favorite
parts from Coming to America. Truth be told, he didn’t under-
stand why he was torturing himself by watching the movie.
The phantom scent of warm, rosemary-flavored Tam snuggled
up against him on the couch, making him long for her even
more. She had laughed at that line in the movie and then turned
to ask him, “Would you like someone to wash your penis?”
The question had been more of a suggestion than a real query,
and Ian had gotten instantly hard, ready to ask her if she would
use a washcloth or her tongue. A loud knock on Ian’s door
jolted him out of his memories. He got up to answer, wonder-
ing who it could be at this time of night.
Another knock sounded at the window, and he heard
Rashawn shout, “If you’re in there jacking off, wipe it up and
put the dick away! We don’t want to see that shit!”
Ian opened the door.
“We could hear you moping all the way from Long Beach.”
280 / Fiona Zedde

Eric nudged Ian out of the way to walk inside the house. “Get
dressed. We’re taking you out.”
“I personally have had enough of this pining bullshit,”
Rashawn said, coming in behind his friend. “You need to get
back on that horse and ride it till everybody’s satisfied.”
“Uh-huh.” Ian eyed Rashawn with a jaundiced look.
“I think you’ll enjoy this party we’re taking you to,” Eric
said. “I know I will.”
After Ian reluctantly got dressed, they piled into Eric’s
Range Rover and took off. When the truck finally stopped a
half hour later, it was on the side street of a neighborhood Ian
had never been to before. He and Rashawn got out of the truck
and followed Eric down the street and up the nondescript-
looking walkway to a red door. It was the entrance to a traditional-
looking three-story house, not at all out of place in the suburban
neighborhood, with its colorful garden and periwinkle exterior
paint. They could hear faint strains of music coming from in-
side the house, something slow and mellow. At Eric’s knock, a
woman came to the door. She smiled warmly when she saw
them.
“Aren’t you boys just looking fine tonight?”
The woman kissed Eric on both cheeks and tugged him in-
side along with his friends.
“I haven’t seen you here in a long time,” she said to him.
Her pretty chocolate skin glowed from beneath a thin golden
sheath.
“I’ve been a little busy,” Eric said. “You know—life.”
“I understand.” She chuckled. “You know where everything
is and how to maximize your good time. If you have questions,
you ask Alee at the bar.”
Eric squeezed her arm in thanks and then nodded at his
friends to follow him up the winding staircase. Ian was begin-
ning to see what kind of party this was. Although the people
downstairs were all fully dressed, they were relaxed and laugh-
 P URE P LEASURE / 281

ing with their drinks cupped loosely in their hands as other

hands casually caressed them, either playing with hair or touch-
ing innocuously bared body parts. As though they were warm-
ing up for some main event.
“Is this a whorehouse?”
“I’m shocked and disgusted that you even think I’d take you
to such a place.” Eric’s offended tone didn’t fool anyone.
Rashawn snickered.
“No, my friend,” Eric said, raising his voice to be heard
above the growing noise. “It’s a party. A place where people
come to have a good time.”
Rashawn laughed again. “And keep on coming again and
again.”
“You are so fucking corny.”
More people leaned against the railing that ringed the entire
second floor to watch the byplay going on downstairs and pick
who and what they wanted for the night. The anticipation of
sex was thick in the air.
Ian glanced at Rashawn. “Are you OK with all this?”
His friend nodded, taming his smile. “I’m good. No wor-
ries.”
With an answering nod, Ian turned back to his contempla-
tion of the crowd. “I’m not really feeling this, fellas,” Ian said.
“We know, but you will soon.”
Eric always talked about these kind of parties. Parties where
the women were willing to do anything just for the fun of it.
And most of the men, too. If a guy wanted to do another guy
for the night, that could definitely be arranged. He knew
Rashawn indulged occasionally. “No big deal,” his friend often
said. Whatever got him off.
“Pick what you like,” Eric said to Ian. “It’s all fun tonight.”
Rashawn nudged him. “And don’t try to push up on some-
one who looks just like that broad you’re trying to forget.”
No one could replace Tam or even look like her. That was
282 / Fiona Zedde

one of the things he’d found so appealing. The woman in his

dreams and the woman who’d eventually found her way into
his bed were the same. And unique. He’d never find someone
like her again.
“Look at that,” Eric said, pointing to an open alcove a few
feet away that had its own little show going on. “That guy’s
having a little too much fun with that ass.”
Ian looked despite himself. And instantly regretted it. Hein-
rich, his colleague from the university, exerted himself over the
pert, pale rear end of an ecstatically crying woman. The sweat
dripped down his face as he effectively wielded a paddle,
swinging it through the air before connecting it sharply with
the reddened bottom turned up over his knee. The wet crotch
of the woman’s panties clearly outlined her juicy pussy lips.
Heinrich looked up as his new spectators approached. A few
already gathered around him wandered away, sufficiently
warmed up to stage their own show elsewhere.
Jesus! Ian did not want to see this. “Hey, Rick.”
“Ian.” Heinrich stopped in midswing to mop at his face with
a white handkerchief. “I didn’t know you indulged.”
“I don’t. My friends dragged me here.”
Rashawn turned an incredulous look to Ian. “You know this
guy?”
“He teaches at the university.”
“Damn! Now I know you’re the most uptight guy at that
place.”
Eric stepped back, holding up his hands. He was staying out
of it.
“Why don’t you try not to be an asshole tonight?” Ian sug-
gested, baring his teeth.
“I’m just trying to help you out.” Rashawn grinned.
“Uh-huh . . . right.”
His friend dismissed the subject with a shrug. “She’s nice,”
 P URE P LEASURE / 283

Rashawn said then, gesturing to the girl over Heinrich’s knee.

Ian hadn’t even seen her face.
“Yeah, she is.” Heinrich smiled up at the taller man. “Want
to share?”
“If ever a question had an obvious answer.”
The two men smiled over the bright red bottom just as the
woman turned to them both and added her own smile to the
grinning twosome.
Eric exchanged a glance with Ian. The two men turned away
and left Rashawn to his games.
“I need a drink,” Ian muttered.
They got drinks at the bar and fought their way through the
crowd to find a space on the oversize couch in the second-floor
living room. The couple next to Eric tongued each other down,
sucking at each other’s faces until the noises they made started
to turn Ian’s stomach. Or turn him on. He wasn’t quite sure
which. The woman’s hand snaked out to stroke Eric’s thigh.
Her long burgundy-tipped fingers spread over Eric’s trousers
and then dipped between his thighs. Eric lifted her hand as if he
wasn’t quite sure where it came from and then dropped it back
on its owner. He scooted closer to Ian.
Ian grinned. “I thought that was the kind of thing you
wanted here.”
“Not when I’m talking to you. That’s a little freaky. And be-
fore you ask, yeah, too freaky for me.”
Ian smiled and put the beer to his lips.
“So, is this doing you any good?” Eric asked.
“What? Sitting next to a couple that’s going to be fucking
any second now on top of a sofa with a higher sperm count
than my ball sac?”
“Yes.”
Ian smiled weakly. “It isn’t. But I still gotta thank you fellas
for trying.”
284 / Fiona Zedde

“She’s really got you bad, huh?”

“Yeah, real bad. I’ve never had it like this before. Not even . . .”
Ian thought carefully before he finished saying what was wait-
ing to burst past his lips, “Not even with Zoë.” He swallowed.
“Shit.” Eric stared at his friend. “Are you serious?”
Ian didn’t say anything. He just stared out at the decadent
sprawl of bodies before him. “Have you ever had it bad for a
woman?” he asked.
“No. Never. I get inoculated against that kind of thing.”
The couple next to them stretched out even more on the
sofa, and the woman’s leg flung out over Eric’s thigh. She
moaned as her lover cupped her pussy through her slacks. Eric
arched an eyebrow and then, almost as an afterthought, leaned
over to watch the action. Having lost his audience, Ian adjusted
his position on the couch to do the same.
The woman who was stretched out had her hair cut in a
sleek bob that made a blade of her already narrow face. Her lips
parted to moan when her partner for the evening tugged down
the zipper of her pants and slowly worked slim fingers inside.
Her breasts were out. They were full and had tiny nipples like
Hershey’s Kisses. The lover feasted on the small dark nipples,
flicking a quick pink tongue over the hard nubs until the
woman groaned and churned her hips against the couch. Eric
held on to the leg thrown casually over his.
Ian couldn’t see her pussy, but he could smell it. The hot,
musky scent made him rise full and hard in his trousers. His
body was ready to fuck, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t the least bit
interested in fucking her or anyone else at this party. He appre-
ciated his friends for wanting to distract him from his pathetic
situation, but it was too soon for him to get into anything like
this. But he could see that Eric was becoming interested in the
current proceedings. Very interested.
The woman on the sofa was quiet. But her lover wasn’t. He
made appreciative murmurs as he suckled the thick breasts,
 P URE P LEASURE / 285

growling low in his throat when the woman widened her legs
even more to receive his fingers deep inside her. His teeth tight-
ened on her nipples, and the woman threw back her head, gasp-
ing silently. The fingers worked in her pussy, thrusting in a
quick rhythm while her hips bucked against the couch and her
leg flailed in Eric’s grasp. Ian watched her mouth. And she
watched him.
“Fuck, yeah,” she mouthed as her eyes locked with his.
“Fuck my pussy. Yes.”
Her teeth flashed as she quietly snarled the last word. Her
partner’s fingers moved faster, and her hips bucked harder. Eric
rested his hand on his thigh, very near his stiff dick, but he did
not touch himself. Ian watched her and tried to imagine Tam
doing something like this. He couldn’t.
The woman apparently came. Her leg flailed one last time,
and her hips abruptly pushed into the air, arching into her
lover’s hand. Then she was still. When the guy raised his head
from her still hard nipples, they saw that he was a woman. Eric
licked his lips.
“That wasn’t too bad,” he said.
“I’ve seen better,” Ian said with a slight smile. He sipped his
beer, but the damn thing was almost hot. “I’m going to grab an-
other beer. Want something?”
“No, I’m good.”
Ian got up from the couch and went for the bar. On his way
back from the bar with a cold beer in hand he saw that Eric had
joined the amorous couple on the couch. He had more than the
woman’s leg in his lap now and seemed very happy indeed to be
getting her attentions. Ian shook his head and then backed out
of the room that was rapidly filling up with an audience for the
event taking place on the couch. He swam through all kinds of
offers—to have his children, suck his dick, give him a hand job,
hold his beer, be his cum rag for the night—just to get to the
back door. The deck was relatively empty except for a lone man
286 / Fiona Zedde

jacking off as he watched two men and a very greedy woman go

at it on a blanket in the grass below. The man stood, a sweating
glass of Scotch in one hand, his purple-headed dick in the other,
methodically stroking himself as if he was alone in his own
bedroom.
Ian walked down the deck’s stairs to sit under the large
maple tree in the backyard. He missed Tam. Honestly and
completely. Even in the midst of all this mindless fucking, he
wanted her. Not necessarily to fuck. Just to talk to. To see. To
ask if she was into this kind of thing.
The man on the deck finished up with a splash and a re-
strained groan, but the threesome on the grass kept on going.
One of the men lay on his back under the woman’s spread
thighs, sucking on her pussy while the other man worked hard
at trying to give her a pearl necklace. Her thick, cum-slicked
breasts and his long straining dick made the likelihood of suc-
cess very high.
Ian sipped his beer, felt it sweating and cold in his hand. The
tree was rough against his back, his dick a limp weight in his
trousers. Sounds washed over him—moans, sighs, the liquid
slap of flesh against flesh—and he felt dirty, in need of Tam’s
cleansing presence. Then he saw her. It had to be a trick of the
light or of his second beer on an empty stomach. She looked so
different hovering above him at the railing in her hip-hugging
short skirt and the blouse that lifted and separated her breasts,
offering them up like ripe fruit for anyone near to pluck. She
looked . . . common. The trick turned and laughed with some-
one beyond Ian’s sight. Her long silver earrings danced in the
air as she turned her head. Then the trick pushed away from the
railing and disappeared inside.
Ian realized then that it wasn’t the light or his beer. It was
Tam. She moved with that unmistakable grace, that sense of
owning the room, the space, even the universe she occupied.
Ian hesitated only a moment before following her. The grass
 P URE P LEASURE / 287

slid wetly underfoot, but he quickly regained his balance,

crossed the yard, and ran up the wooden stairs.
Ian followed the flashing earrings and tightly girded ass,
watching to see what she would do. Her escort—the man from
the gallery—tugged her along while his eyes took in everything
around him, devouring all the different types of sex taking
place in the house. Tam watched, earrings dancing, as her head
moved from side to side, her gaze flickering over the multiple
visual stimuli. When someone touched her, she looked at them
but kept moving. They paused to see what they could of the ac-
tion taking place in the built-for-three space behind the stairs.
A woman appeared at Tam’s side and lazily caressed her ass.
Tam’s lover looked immediately interested. But when he touched
the stranger, the woman dismissed him with a cool shake of her
head. Tam wasn’t tempted, so shook her own head and watched
the woman go without the smallest sign of regret. A man ap-
proached them, then another, and another, then a couple. All
were refused with Tam’s smiling dismissal. Her companion was
interested, but she was not. If she wasn’t interested in fucking
any of them, why was she here?
Ian followed them, sipping his beer, until Tam’s lover was
lured away by a barely dressed set of twins. Tam looked around
her, seemed lost for a moment, and then took a deep breath and
walked toward the bar. She collided with Ian on her way there.
“Excuse me,” she said, recoiling from his body.
Ian knew when she realized it was him. Her hand grasped
his biceps, and she inhaled quickly, filling her nose with his
scent.
“Are you following me?” he asked before she could com-
pletely get her bearings.
Her hand tightened convulsively on his arm before letting
go.
Tam smelled potently like herself, of rosemary and green
tea. The scent took him back to the night in her bed, the lushly
288 / Fiona Zedde

colored pillows, the soft weight of her breasts against his chest,
her pussy eagerly swallowing him.
“I didn’t know this was your kind of place,” she said, ignor-
ing his question for the foolishness it was.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Their shoulders brushed as they walked toward the bar to-
gether.
“Apparently so.” She nodded at the G-stringed bartender.
“Long Island iced tea, please.”
Tam made Ian reckless enough to signal for another beer.
Before she could get out her money, he paid for both their
drinks.
“Does all this make you wet?” he asked, putting his wallet
away.
It all seemed so surreal, the two of them walking through
the house full of gyrating, fucking, and sweating bodies, talking
calmly after an absence of weeks between them. Tam looked
down at the thick bulge straining against his jeans.
“Does all this make you hard?” She didn’t bother to hide the
sneer in her voice.
You make me hard. Ian cleared his throat. “Your friend
seems into it.”
“He is. He wanted to see if I could get into it, too.” She
sipped her drink, took a larger gulp and then another.
They stepped out through the front door, ignoring the inter-
ested looks and grasping hands. The night air was cool on Ian’s
face. As soon as the door closed behind them, the droning hum
of voices disappeared. It could have been just the two of them
on any suburban street, even Tam’s, with the quietly winking
stars above, the scent of night-blooming flowers from the gar-
den, and the comforting silence.
Ian was buzzed enough to admit to missing Tam, even
enough to admit it to her face. But he didn’t. He drew in a deep
breath of Tam-scented air. “Feel like taking a walk?”
 P URE P LEASURE / 289

“Sure.”
He took a deep swallow of his beer before putting the bottle
between stalks of daffodils and the stone walkway. The last
thing he wanted to do was get arrested for drinking alcohol on
the street. Tam didn’t seem to care. She took another big sip of
her drink as they strolled down the walk. The sound of her
ridiculous heels was loud on the concrete sidewalk, a porno
soundtrack to the twitch of her ass and the exaggerated sway of
her hips.
Tam sucked her teeth. “This goddamn skirt.” She pulled
down at the offending garment. “I don’t even know how peo-
ple find this shit sexy.”
Ian smiled. Plucking at the tiny piece of leather, she seemed
once again like the alluring creature he met two months ago.
But he knew she wasn’t. Not really. Tam was fucking someone
else. Someone who didn’t even value her enough to keep her
for himself.
“Are you satisfied with your choice?” he asked.
Tam looked at him but didn’t say anything. She knew ex-
actly what he was talking about.
“I’ve missed you,” she said finally, curling her mouth
around the edge of the plastic cup containing her drink.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Their meandering footsteps took them to a playground
perched safely in the middle of the neighborhood’s tiny park.
Tam sat on the swing and anchored her drink deep in the sand
before grasping with both hands the metal chain suspending
the seat of the swing. Ian stood nearby with his hands in his
pockets and watched her pump herself in the swing. The skirt
rode all the way up to the tops of her thighs, revealing her pale
blue panties. Who else wore sensible panties to a sex party?
He suddenly wanted to drop to his knees in front of her and
lick that blue cotton until it was soaking wet inside and out. Ian
adjusted his sneakered feet in the sand and cleared his throat.
290 / Fiona Zedde

“Because of you”—she said matter-of-factly, her earrings

fluttering in the breeze with each back-and-forth pass of the
swing through the air—“I can’t enjoy other men.”
“I can’t do anything with that.” Ian murmured. “You’re not
making too much sense to me right now.”
“Yeah, that’s my problem, too.”
She seemed far away and emotionally remote as she swung
back and forth in the silence. But she was closer to him now
than she had been in the past few weeks, and so he savored her
presence. He wanted more. Much more.
If he was drunk enough he would have asked her to suck
him off one last time. To take out his already hard dick and
cover it with kisses, lick its seeping head, and take him deep
into her mouth. And she’d probably do it, too, in her own way,
working his dick until he came and then swallowing every
ounce of his juice. She’d lick her lips, catlike and sweet, and ask
if he had any more cream. But he would have to shake his head,
because it was his turn to sate a long-denied hunger.
This hunger would lead him to sniff her pussy, to slide off
her heaven-colored panties and lick the salty musk of her and
dive deeply inside her with his tongue to imprint her smell all
over his face. If he asked nicely enough, she would grasp the
back of his head like she used to; she’d buck against his face
while he fucked her with his tongue and pounded her clit with
his nose. She’d come and wail and shower his mouth with
quick squeezing kisses from her pussy lips.
But Ian wasn’t drunk enough for that. He was aware enough
to know that he would hate her and himself afterward if any-
thing happened between them.
“You ready to go back?” he asked.

They walked back to the house in silence. It was a particular

kind of torture, being so close to her, smelling her, knowing
that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, yet not being
 P URE P LEASURE / 291

able to have her. Ian rotated his shoulders to loosen the tight-
ness in his chest.
As they approached the house, a couple walked down the
driveway toward them.
“Party over?” Ian asked.
“Oh, no, honey,” the more slender of the two men said.
“Things are just starting to get interesting.”
Ian could only imagine what other “interesting” things
could happen in that house tonight.
“Have fun,” the two men chorused as they ambled down the
path, holding hands.
“I bet Garrett is right in the middle of whatever that is,”
Tam said, wrinkling her nose.
“I’m assuming you’ll want to jump right in there with him.”
“That’s not a good assumption to make,” she said.
He held open the front door for Tam, and, almost against his
will, his eyes dropped down to the rocking bridge the leather of
the skirt made between her ass cheeks. Maybe there’s some ap-
peal to this getup after all.
Stale air from inside the house blasted Ian in the face as soon
as he stepped inside. The place reeked of sex. The hour or so
they had been gone had cleared Ian’s senses, but now he felt
dirty again. He wanted to pull Tam out of there, tell her to go
home to her daughter and her rosemary-scented bed.
A man emerged out of the morass of bodies to grasp Tam’s
arm. “I was looking for you.”
She seemed surprised to see him. Ian pulled the door closed
behind him and turned to leave, but Tam tugged at his hand. He
stayed. Her boyfriend looked like he was high, with his unnat-
urally bright eyes, too-wide smile, and blood-flushed lips.
“Why?” Tam asked him. “You were obviously having a good
time.”
“Are you jealous?” The man chuckled like he’d just made a
good joke. “I see you found somebody you like.” His eyes ca-
292 / Fiona Zedde

sually appraised Ian. “You look familiar. I didn’t know Tamarind

liked the pretty-boy type.” He chuckled again. “No offense.”
He offered his hand to shake. “The name is Garrett.”
Ian took it and immediately wanted to wipe his off. The
man’s hand was damp. Tam slowly released his other hand.
This was what she had given Ian up for? He turned deliberately
to the woman who still owned his heart.
“Enjoy the rest of the party,” he said to her. “I’m heading
home.”
She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again.
“It was good seeing you,” she finally said.
Ian nodded once and then walked off to get his friends. This
“party” was over. He found Rashawn in an upper-level bed-
room playing the voyeur to an enthusiastic orgy on the shag-
carpeted floor. He looked up when Ian walked into the room.
“Is that your ready face?”
“Yup.”
“No prob. Eric is downstairs getting to know that cute little
bartender a little bit better. I think he’s just killing time.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Rashawn stood up and followed him from the room.
“I saw you with that woman,” Eric said as soon as he saw
Ian.
“Fuck.” He wasn’t in the mood to talk about this.
“Did you?”
“No.”
They walked out of the house, with Rashawn looking at
them both. “What happened?”
The Range Rover chirped as Eric opened the doors with the
remote. “He was cuddling up at the bar with that old chick
who stole his balls.”
Rashawn looked at Ian. “No shit?”
“I think you two just arrange to bump into each other in
public for dramatic conversations.” Eric started the truck.
 P URE P LEASURE / 293

“Fuck you.”
“Don’t look at me for that, bro. I know she’s the one you
want.”
Rashawn chuckled and fell deeper into his sprawl in the cor-
ner of the truck. Ian halfheartedly punched Eric in the shoul-
der. His friend was right. Tam was the one he wanted. And,
right now, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“Just take me home,” he said.
 12

She smelled like sunlight and sex. Grass stains marked the
crinkled white of her skirt that they were laying on. Her face
was rapture in the breeze, her lips parted and wet as he slid eas-
ily inside her cunt, moving in a nearly frictionless rhythm. She
was incredibly wet. He could feel the sun on his back, its heat
trailing each muscle, sinking into the sleek flesh of his ass as he
moved inside Tam. Her pleasure was absolute; it was tied un-
breakably to him, and he was all she wanted. She called out his
name and smiled, rising up in her dream orgasm to fling her
arms around his neck and clutch him tighter. Her pussy swal-
lowed his aching dick; his body felt full. He was going to come.
Ian opened his mouth. An alarm sounded, discordant and loud,
jerking him out of his dream.
“Fuck!” He turned over and slapped at the inconvenient
alarm clock. Or, at least, he tried to, but a heavy weight pinned
him to the bed. It smelled like sunlight and sex.
“Do you want me to turn that off for you?”
He lay back against the sheets, drinking in the vision in his
bed.
 P URE P LEASURE / 295

“Sure.”
Tam stretched across him, her bare body, breasts, belly,
thighs elongated in the sun toward the clock. Then it was off,
its shrieking silenced, leaving only the sounds of their quiet
breathing. She had him trapped between her thighs and under
the steaming heat of her pussy. His dick was hard and stood up
between them, pre-cum glistening on its head. She didn’t touch
him.
“I don’t want anybody else,” she said. Before Ian could
speak, she put a finger to his lips. “Just let me finish, OK?”
He nodded.
“For a long time now I’ve known I wanted you. But I had
some crazy ideas about having the freedom to fuck whoever I
wanted, whenever I wanted. When I saw you the other night, I
finally had to put the bullshit aside.”
Ian knew he should have been surprised, maybe even angry,
at her presumption to barge into his house the morning after
they’d met at the party and slip into his bed. But all he felt was
relief.
“What about your rich boyfriend?”
“Garrett isn’t my boyfriend. For a long time he was just
convenient.”
“And now?”
“And now he’s not. If you still want me, there’s only you. Is
that OK?”
It was. He nodded, and she fell into him, drowning him in
her scent and in the skimming heat of her hands.
“Please,” she whispered, moving up and over him. “Make
love to me.”
Ian lay under her, entranced. Tam sheathed him in her moist
heat, rising up like a siren on the surf, her back arched and her
mouth wet and open, to lure him once again beneath her waves.
And, this time, he wasn’t dreaming.
 Have passion, will travel.
Let your fantasies be your guide as you embark on adventures
that will take your breath away. All it takes is a soft whisper
and a flash of skin to scale the heights of ecstasy. . . .
Wild Thing
Maggie Hamilton’s current Mr. Right Now leaves a lot to be
desired, so when she sets sail on a singles’ cruise, her expecta-
tions are high. But a booking error lands her in honeymoon
hell. Good thing the stunningly handsome cruise director
makes showing Maggie a good time his number-one priority.
And soon they’re both riding the waves of desire. . . .
Hold Me, Thrill Me
Most people would think of a tropical island as paradise. But
to Ryan Holmes, it’s a prison. Her ex-boyfriend left her
stranded there, and now she’s waiting tables to make enough
money to get back home—and satisfy her lust for vengeance.
Meanwhile, a French waiter is satisfying her body’s deepest
cravings—and leaving her hungry for more. . . .
Light My Fire
Emily Mitchell has finally convinced her workaholic
boyfriend to take a vacation. Too bad it’s to a ski resort—in
August. His lack of attention is leaving Emily cold anyway.
Until she falls into her neighbor’s hot tub—naked. Now
Emily’s feeling the heat—under the stars, on horseback, and in
every place imaginable with a man who can’t get enough of her. . . .

Pack your bags, rev your engines, and get ready to visit a place
that will exceed your wildest expectations. . . .

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

P.J. Mellor’s
GIVE ME MORE
coming next month!
Maggie sniffed and wiped her nose with the tissue stuck in the
belt of her once-white slacks and tried to rinse the grime from
the washcloth. Sweat trickled between her breasts, making her
wish she had never invested in the new instant-cleavage-
enhancer bra model. A lot of good it did her.
Hunched over the miniscule sink, she rubbed at the dust-
streaked terry held under a flow of water that was one step
above trickle status. When it became obvious that most of the
dust was embedded for eternity, she twisted the little pointed
knobs to turn off the water and made her way back into the liv-
ing quarters to resume her cleaning, careful to avoid poking her
eye out on the colorful beak of a stuffed bird next to the
“grotto.”
An hour later she stretched and rubbed the small of her back
while she looked around at her progress. All one and a half
plastic bushes of backbreaking progress.
“This won’t do.”
She walked to the wooden box housing the phone and called
the concierge.
300 / P.J. Mellor

* * *
Ten long minutes later, a timid knock sounded. She fought
her way through the vinyl, slid back the bolt, and opened the
door.
The small man from the deck stood, all but quivering, in the
hall, his clipboard clutched to his scrawny chest.
“Ms. Hamilton?” he called above the jungle sounds. “I’m
Otto, the purser. Front desk said you had a complaint.”
“Yes, Otto, I certainly do,” she shouted back and motioned
him inside. “Come in.”
Just when she wondered if she’d have to resort to dragging
him bodily into her suite, he stepped across the threshold.
She waved her hand in the direction of her personal jungle.
“I’m afraid this just won’t do. I feel like I need a machete to
even find my bed! Plus, I’m very allergic to dust.” She pointed
at one particularly fuzzy example, in case he failed to notice.
“And the noise is, well, you can hear for yourself. I need to
change rooms.”
The poor man seemed to cower. “I—I’m afraid that’s just
not possible, M—Ms. Hamilton. All the other books are roomed.”
He stepped back, his knuckles white where he gripped his clip-
board. “I mean, all the other rooms are booked.” He reached
back and opened the door, his intent on escape clear.
“Wait!” She lunged toward him, eliciting a startled whimper
from the man. “Please. I’ll take anything.” She sneezed and fo-
cused her teary eyes on him. “Please. The dust is killing me.”
His lips disappeared into a tight line. He stood a bit taller.
“I’ll speak to the cruise director, but I doubt he can do any-
thing.”
He hurried out and closed the door with a snap before she
could think of an argument.
“Great,” she murmured, swiping at a particularly obnoxious
split-leaf elephant ear that had been whacking her head in the
 G IVE M E M ORE / 301

air-conditioned breeze. “Just how I wanted to spend my first

day at sea.”

She’d just dragged out her portable air cleaner and located a
plug—no easy feat, given the decor—when a knock echoed in
the little jungle.
She crawled out from under yet another fake palm and got
to her feet, brushing the dust bunnies from her white slacks as
she walked toward the door. It no longer mattered that her
door did not have a peephole. Jack the Ripper could be on the
other side, and if he offered her a clean room, she’d gladly fol-
low him anywhere.
Her pile of dust-gray cleaning rags caught her attention.
Keeping up appearances was a necessity. In a swooping motion,
she bent to scoop them up as she walked by. Her bare foot hit a
wet spot on the edge of the grotto. Her mind registered the
cool, slick feel of the porcelain “beach” a nanosecond before
she slid with a scream and a splash into the churning water.

The woman’s scream from behind the locked door made

Drew’s blood run cold. Even the ridiculous jungle sounds
couldn’t drown out her distress. It was bad enough to be as-
signed to the honeymoon cruises for his final season. He’d be
damned if one of his cruises would lose a bride.
Hands shaking, he fumbled with his set of master keys be-
fore he found the right one and got the door unlocked.
He saw her immediately.
She sat chest deep in the grotto, little islands of what looked
like dirty washcloths floating around her. One small hand cov-
ered her left eye and forehead.
“Are you OK, ma’am?” He pocketed his keys and moved to
the edge of the water.
She didn’t blink. “My eye hurts,” she said, the husky quality
302 / P.J. Mellor

of her voice slipping down his spine like a seductive fingernail.

Great. Finally his libido kicks in and it’s with a newlywed
woman.
“What happened?” He scanned the room for her husband,
ready to personally throw the bastard from the ship. Men who
abused women were lower than a snake’s armpits, as far as he
was concerned.
“I slipped and fell into the water.”
Sure, you did. He reached out a hand to help her stand on
what he knew to be a less than skid-free tub bottom. “I’ve got
you. Just take small steps, and then I’ll help you over the rim.
Do you need to see a doctor?”
She shook her head, her short curls sticking to her skull.
Wet, her hair looked almost translucent, so he’d bet she was a
blonde.
The silk shirt sticking to her like a second skin most likely
was yellow. He tried to avert his eyes from the scrap-of-nothing
bra revealed by the wet fabric but couldn’t seem to drag his
gaze away from the tempting sight. Lordy, it was enough to
make a grown man weep.
Once-white pants clung to world-class legs, leaving little to
the imagination. Why were all the good ones married?
Her hand felt tiny within his grasp. He resisted the urge to
pull her close. Barely. Damn, what was wrong with him? Maybe
he’d been out to sea too long. He was definitely drowning in
the clear turquoise of her bloodshot eyes. Why do women stay
with bastards who make them cry?

Wow. Maggie looked up—way up—into the blue eyes of

easily the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Now this is
more like it. Tan, with golden-brown hair and mile-wide shoul-
ders, dressed in a white uniform shirt and Bermuda shorts, he
looked good enough to eat.
 G IVE M E M ORE / 303

Dang. She realized she was holding his hand like some
starstruck teenager. She dropped it and took a step back.
Unfortunately she was a bit too close to the edge of the
grotto.
Arms flailing as she again fell backward, she grabbed for the
first thing her hands came in contact with . . . his shirt.
With a huge splash, they landed chest to chest, heads bang-
ing together. Maggie tasted blood at the same time she realized
she was held underwater by the weight of the man. Shoving
him aside, she broke the surface and gasped for air, trudging to-
ward the water’s edge.
“Did you have to land on me?” Sputtering and coughing,
she turned on him.
He lay facedown in the water.
“Shit!” She plowed against the force of the jets and grasped
the back of his uniform collar to haul him above the surface of
the water.
Her arm around his neck, she dragged him to the edge of the
whirlpool, grunting with effort.
Good thing she was a lifeguard.
Beneath her palm, his heart beat a strong rhythm. He was
breathing. Breathing was good.
“Lets get you out of these nasty wet clothes,” she whis-
pered, flicking open one gold button after another. She’d sworn
to be more aggressive on her cruise, and fate had dropped the
hunk in her arms. True, he was unconscious, but that wouldn’t
last for long. Who was she to buck fate? Unfortunately the
man’s forehead was rapidly growing a nasty goose egg. Before
her eyes, it darkened to a deep cherry red right before the skin
split from the immediate swelling.
Having her way with him would obviously have to wait.
With a grunt, she rolled him to his side and thumped his
back.
304 / P.J. Mellor

He coughed a few times and wheezed as he struggled to sit

up.
Shoot. Mouth-to-mouth would not be needed.
“Are you OK?” His voice was croaky. He cleared his throat
and looked at her through sinfully thick, blond-tipped lashes.
The once-over from his baby blues had her sitting back on her
heels in an effort not to squirm.

He traced the tender skin next to her eye, where she’d bumped
her head in the first fall, leaving a trail of fire.
Forcing back a wince, she reached out to touch the now
huge bump on his forehead. It was hot.
His breath hissed. He leaned back a bit. “Ow.” He probed
the bump. “I really whacked my head.” He glanced up. “Are
you sure you’re OK?”
“Fine.” More than a whisper seemed inappropriate, for some
reason.
He broke whatever connection they had and stood, helping
her to her feet. “Thanks for dragging me out of the water.” He
scanned the room. “Where’s your husband, Mrs. Hamilton?”
“Ah, it’s Miss. Or Ms.” Her skin burned with his scrutiny.
“I mean, I’m not married.”
“Excuse me?” She couldn’t have said what he thought he’d
just heard. He wasn’t that lucky.
“I said I’m not married.” She frowned and brushed at her
wet, see-through pant leg before meeting his gaze. “Wouldn’t
that defeat the purpose.”
“What purpose would that be?” Somehow his shirt had be-
come unbuttoned, so he began working the sharp buttons through
the wet fabric. No need to get excited, despite her claim. Newly-
weds often forgot they were married at first. Probably a tough
acclimation.
“The purpose of the cruise, of course.”
The woman sounded annoyed and looked a little agitated.
 G IVE M E M ORE / 305

Maybe it was best to humor her. “I suppose different people

take cruises for different reasons.” Although why a single per-
son would take a honeymoon cruise was beyond him.
He gave her another once-over. She sure was a looker, he’d
give her that.
She flashed a little lopsided smile that sent heat zipping
through him.
Too bad she was married. And lied about it. Not to mention
the fact she was more than a little wacky.
He turned toward the door. Best to cut his losses and get on
with his day.
“Wait!” She grabbed his arm, the warmth of her palm doing
funny things to his heart rate. “I don’t even know your name.”
He glanced at her hand and then back at her red-rimmed eyes.
Their clear color seemed incongruous with the almost-painful-
looking redness surrounding them.
“Drew. Drew Connor.” He extricated his arm and offered
his hand. “Cruise director.”
She slipped her hand into his in what felt like an oddly inti-
mate gesture.
Get a grip, Connor! The woman is just returning your hand-
shake.
“Maggie Hamilton.” She shrugged and removed the tempta-
tion of her hand. “But I guess you already know that.”
“Ms. Hamilton?” He tilted her chin with his fingertip.
“Maggie,” she said on a breath. “Call me Maggie.”
“Maggie.” Despite his best intentions, he leaned closer. “Think
hard. You’re not really single, are you?”
Her brow wrinkled. She stepped out of his reach and heaved
a sigh. “Why are you having such an issue with my martial sta-
tus?” She threw up her hands and strode to the side of the bed
before turning on him. “Don’t you think I would know it if I’d
married someone? What? Do you think I’d forget something
like that?”
306 / P.J. Mellor

Maybe she was telling the truth.

Fists on hips—very shapely hips, he might add—she glared
at him. “Why are you grinning like that?”
He took a step toward her.
“Mr. Connor—”
“Drew.” He took another step.
“Drew.” She held up her hand. “OK, you can stop right
there, Drew.” He took another step. “Why are you looking at
me like that?”
He closed the distance. Practically chest to chest, he felt the
heat. He knew she felt it, too.
“You’re really single, aren’t you?” He raised her limp left
hand and surveyed her ringless finger.
“I—” She swallowed and looked up at him with her incred-
ible eyes. “I already told you that.”
Damn, this was stupid on so many levels.
He put his arms around her, half prepared to be kicked or
slapped.
She reacted by encircling his neck with her arms.
OK. Let’s think about all the reasons why this is a bad idea.
He pulled her closer.
One: it’s against company policy.
He leaned down, feeling the exciting warmth of her breath
against his lips.
Two: even if she isn’t married, she should be off-limits, due to
reason one. Plus, if she isn’t married, why is she on a honeymoon
cruise? Maybe she’s an escaped criminal. Maybe she’s the female
equivalent of a gigolo, who preys on married men.
The last idea fueled his excitement. He ground his already
rock-hard erection against her.
She smiled and ground right back, eliciting a moan he hoped
sounded more like a growl. Growls were more manly.
Three: stop reacting with your body, and listen to your mind,
 G IVE M E M ORE / 307

stupid! You don’t even know this woman. This isn’t some singles
bar. You’re going to get caught.
He glanced down at her. The heat from their wet clothes
practically made steam. Her incredible eyes were heavy-lidded.
She licked her lips, and he was a goner.
Four: time to score.

Maggie looked up at the man holding her in his arms and felt
her knees go weak. If he didn’t kiss her soon, she might just
climb up his hard body and have her way with him right here,
right now.
“Kiss me,” she said on a breath, his mouth poised mere mil-
limeters from her own.
“Oh darlin’, I plan on it, I definitely plan on it.” His husky
whisper vibrated her lips an instant before settling in for the
duration.
Whew! The guy sure knew how to kiss. She wouldn’t be
surprised if she had steam coming out of her ears.
He nibbled the edge of her lip before swooping in for an-
other toe-curling, bone-melting kiss.
Her knees threatened to buckle. She couldn’t take a deep
breath, even through her nose.
He shifted position slightly, deepening the kiss she swore
couldn’t get deeper. Who needed to breathe anyway?
“Our clothes . . .” she finally managed to whisper against his
lips.
“What about them?” He nuzzled her neck.
“They’re wet.” Her teeth closed around his earlobe.
He shuddered. “Well, we’ll just have to get out of them,” he
returned.
His hands bracketed her waist, pushing the wet silk of her
top ever upward while he continued to feast on her lips and
neck. He paused a moment at the front clasp of her intensifier
bra before popping it open with a flick of his wrist.
308 / P.J. Mellor

She held her breath. Would he notice the disparity in size

once he palmed her actual flesh?
Then his hands cupped her, and she released a sigh. Who
cared? As long as he kept doing what he was doing.
Her top came up and over her head, his mouth scarcely leav-
ing hers.
Breaking contact, he knelt at her bare feet, peeling the wet
linen of her pants down her hips and then balancing her while
she stepped out of the sodden fabric.
A hot trail of kisses tracked his progress up her body until
they again stood chest to chest. Well, actually more like chest to
abdomen, since he was a good foot taller.
His mouth once again took possession of hers while he
slipped her bra straps from her shoulders and down her arms.
She rubbed her pebbled nipples against his firm chest, loving
the friction.
In response, his hips bucked against her while he deepened
the kiss, all but lifting her from her feet.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, swallowing a tiny
gasp of excitement at the feel of his fingers hooking in the sides
of her thong. The wet string dragged along the skin of her hips
and then rolled beneath her buttocks to scrape down her
thighs. When it fell to her knees, she was forced to break the
kiss and step out.
Somewhat of a klutz under normal circumstances, she didn’t
want to risk tripping on her own underwear during what might
easily be the most awesome sexual encounter of her life to date.
His gaze left a trail of fire down to her toes and back up
again. Beneath her palm, his heart pounded while his breath
came in harsh drags of air.
“This is nuts,” he said on a breath. “Tell me to stop.” He
nibbled the edge of her lip. “Are you sure this is what you
want?”
 G IVE M E M ORE / 309

She nodded. Karyl wanted her to walk on the wild side.

Maggie glanced at her personal jungle. It was about as wild as
she was going to get. “I want to do something wild to celebrate
my first cruise.” She hoped her smile was more assured than
she felt. “Let’s make love in the water.”
His eyes widened, and then a slow grin revealed a set of
blinding white teeth and a lethal dimple. “Anything the lady
wants . . .”
He made short work of stripping—dang, she didn’t get a
chance to check him out—and then scooped her up in his arms
and stepped into the grotto.
She gripped his shoulders to keep from drifting away from
the delicious heat of his hard body.
“Wait.” He reached for a boulder at the edge of the water-
fall. It opened. He pulled out what looked like a small foam
Boogie Board and positioned it at her back.
“Lay back. Relax,” he instructed. “Let me do all the work.”
It was difficult, but she managed to somewhat relax while
Drew caressed her legs from ankle to thigh. With each pass of
his hands, her muscles grew more pliant.
He stepped into the vee of her legs.
Warm water lapped at the juncture of her thighs. She re-
sisted the urge to clamp them together and squirm.
“So pretty,” he said in a low, husky voice, his breath telling
her he was oh-so-close to her most private place. “So smooth.
Soft.” His lips whispered over her, causing her to arch in a
silent plea.
Water sloshed in her ears, but she was beyond caring.
He licked and suckled while his fingers played with her
flesh, which was spread before him like a sexual smorgasbord.
Good thing she’d indulged in a Brazilian wax, she thought,
and swallowed a giggle when Drew lapped at her and then
flicked her nub with the tip of his tongue.
310 / P.J. Mellor

Her muscles twitched before taking on the consistency of

wet spaghetti. She clamped her legs around his head, anchoring
him in place.
Shudders rippled through her. Arching her back, she gasped
in her effort not to scream.
It worked. Unfortunately the action plunged her head be-
neath the water, and she managed to suck in about a gallon of
water.
Great. Attempts to cough were moot, with her head still
below the surface of the water. Her body twitched. Whether it
was from the earth-shattering release or impending death was a
toss-up.
Just her luck. The most powerful orgasm of her life was ob-
viously going to be her last.
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“Still the One” © copyright 2007 by Renée Alexis

“Her Wildest Fantasy” © copyright 2007 by Sydney Molare
“Pure Pleasure” © copyright 2007 by Fiona Zedde

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