Good old Charlie Gibson, writer extraordinaire of erotic romance, who hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since his messy divorce five years earlier, was falling in love.
And he didn’t have a clue how to tell the object of his affection how he felt.
“So much for being good with dialogue,” he muttered into the wind and let the waves carry his words away.
* * *
Candace drove home from the restaurant Monday night still wearing the remote controlled thong, with the controls stashed neatly in her little purse along with her silk panties. A balloon of joy was swelling up inside of her chest.
Being with Charlie made her feel good. Okay, so being with him made her pu**y feel incredibly good, but it was more than just the sexual rush she got whenever he was near her.
When she was with Charlie, she felt like the best of her was actually breaking out. The walls she had built up around her heart to protect herself from pain were falling, one by one, and even though she was frightened about what lay ahead, she wasn’t sorry that she had embarked on this crazy ride with Charlie.
My mentor, she thought, and laughed wickedly, thinking about how upset Sheba, Queen of the Sluts, would be if she knew just how hot and hands-on Charlie’s version of mentoring actually was.
But in addition to all of the personal revelations Candace was having, she also felt more inspired to write than she ever had before. And as soon as she parked her car and let herself inside the door, she headed straight to her office and booted up her computer.
Pausing for just a moment to gather her thoughts, she began to type furiously, the words coming out as fast as a hard rain.
Jolene felt her innocence falling off of her in thick sheets. Every time she exploded in Zane’s arms, she changed just a little bit more. But still, twenty-one years of Catholic School training was hard to get rid of, no matter how powerful her orgasms were, no matter how much she loved the feel of his thick c**k between her legs.
All day, she had been working with the local Catholic church, helping the choir get ready for their annual performance, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had fallen in with the devil.
It wasn’t the first time this thought had occurred to her. Surrounded by all of the pure, untouched young girls and the solemn nun who was conducting the practice, Jolene felt dirty. As if she didn’t deserve to feel the way she felt when Zane was in the room with her.
No, it was worse than that. All she had to do was think about Zane, think about his full lips, the way his stubble scratched her br**sts, the tender skin on the inside of her thighs, and her panties instantly got wet.
That kind of thing only happened to bad girls. And although Jolene had made a conscious decision to stray from the path of perfection, she wondered if she had strayed too far.
Now, as she stood in front of the door to “Piano Man”, she was tempted to turn and run as fast as she could back to the life she used to live.
The door flew open, and Zane’s large, muscular body filled the frame. “Why are you skulking around outside?” he asked irately. “You know I don’t like you hanging around by yourself in this neighborhood.”Jolene scowled at him. It felt so good to give in to her natural emotions instead of always caging her responses in politeness.
“Ha! That’s a good one,” she replied in a snotty voice. “I’d like to know how anyone on the street is going to do anything worse to me than the things you’ve already made me do!”
His eyes narrowed at her sarcastic comment and roughly he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her inside. Pushing her up against the wall, he shoved one of his leather-clad thighs between her legs and pinned her arms up against the wall.
“Are you actually telling me that you think I made you grab my head so that you could rub your cunt all over my tongue?”
She whimpered as his hands tightened on her wrists. She was aware of the huge bulge in Zane’s tight leather pants pressing up against her hip, and she couldn’t believe how much she wanted him to unzip his pants and plunge into her until she couldn’t see or breathe or even speak.
“Do you expect me to believe that I made you so sensitive that the slightest touch of my tongue on your clit makes you scream? That I’m to blame because you are so hot and ready all the time all I have to do is slide into your pu**y an inch and you lose control?”
The way he growled the questions at her, Jolene was almost afraid to respond. Frankly, she wasn’t sure what the right answer was anymore.
But before she could say anything, he cursed and shoved away from her. “I bought a present for you.”
Jolene’s face lit up and she started to move towards him, saying, “You did? Can I see what it is?” but the look he gave her was so fierce she instinctively backed up against the wall again, as if she could hide in between the studs that held the building up.
Rationally, she knew he would never hurt her—he was too gentle, too intent on giving her pleasure—but by the look in his eyes at the moment, she wasn’t sure she knew him at all.
He walked behind the bar and pulled out a plastic bag. “If I give this to you, do you promise to do exactly what I tell you to do?”
Jolene laughed and sassed back at him, “When have I not done exactly what you’ve told me to do, boss?” She felt like she was back on solid ground as she waited for him to give her the present.
He tossed the bag over the counter at her and she caught it right before it knocked over one of the tea-lights on a table. “Can I open it right now?”
He shook his head. “Go to the bathroom, and when you come back out to play, I want you to be wearing what’s in the bag.”
She cocked her head at him in confusion. “You bought me clothes? What’s wrong with what I have on?” she asked as she gestured to her sky blue cocktail dress.
“Nothing,” he replied, “as long as you have a thing for nuns.” He shook his head. “Just go. The bar’s about to open.”
As he turned back to getting the bar ready for the busy evening ahead, Jolene headed for the bathroom. Barely staving off her curiosity, she walked into the ladies room and locked the door behind her. Opening up the bag all she saw was an itty-bitty scrap of black fabric and wondered just what kind of game Zane was playing with her.
“He can’t actually expect me to put this on!” she exclaimed as she picked up what looked to be a pair of underwear. She had heard about thongs but had never worn a pair of them herself. They seemed much too slutty and besides, they didn’t seem the least bit comfortable.