Home Bound

Home Bound Bonnie Dee (c) 2005

Home Bound Bonnie Dee Published 2005 ISBN 1-59578-164-1 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2005, Bonnie Dee. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Tina Burns Cover Artist Jinger Heaston This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Chapter One Monica stared deeply into Jude’s magnetic blue eyes as she rode the swell of orgasm like a surfer on a curling wave, trying to make the erotic sensation last. Her breath panted rapidly in and out of her slightly parted lips and her body writhed on the bed. Oh God, it had never been like this before with anyone. Never so strong, so sweet, so all encompassing. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and concentrated on the escalating waves coursing through her. Swell. Swell. Swell. Swell. Release! She was cut loose, falling through the air, weightless, timeless, bodiless until she landed back on the soft cotton sheets of her bed with a spasm of her whole body. Monica let out a protracted cry at her climax then a long, soft sigh of relief. Her hand stopped moving on her clit and she opened her eyes to glance at Jude’s movie poster-sized face on her wall. She murmured, “Thanks, buddy. ” Feeling wetness on her inner thighs, she sighed and reached for her Kleenex box, wiping off her fingers and crotch before she rolled over and got out of bed to start another day. Her morning routine began with serving herself and her cat, Amber, breakfast, and followed by watching CNN as she walked her treadmill. After she had booted up her computer for the day, she stared at the blank page on the monitor and took a long sip of coffee. There were many articles she should be working on, several with deadlines, but she wasn’t in the mood to tackle any of them. She stared at the flashing cursor and thought about switching her computer theme again for a change of color and scenery. She minimized Microsoft Word and the perfect pecs, steel drum abs and rigid cock of the naked ma le model, whom she had dubbed Bruce, greeted her. She decided that she wasn’t quite ready to trade him up for a new one. “You get a reprieve, Bruce,” she informed him. “You stay up for at least another week, lucky bastard.” She tapped the mouse and called up her blank page again. Still white. White and empty. The computer popped up a reminder of an impending deadline for the “Firm and Fit” article, which she hadn’t yet begun. Monica grimaced and clicked the notice closed. Screw fitness. She was in no mood to focus on work this morning. Instead, she began to type. He is sandy blond, the ends of his hair bleached lighter by the sun because he’s a… Monica stopped to think. What was he today? A construction worker? A lifeguard? An archeologist? No. …a surfer. He has the smooth, hairless chest and slim, muscled build of a swimmer. He spends every hour he can spare at the beach, out in the bright, hot sun, his body a part of his surfboard as he rides the waves. He loves the outdoors but at night he is looking for some indoor entertainment. At night he comes to me. His body is still radiating heat from a day spent in the sun. I feel the warmth pouring off his smooth, tanned skin as my hands stroke up the hard ridges of his stomach, over his sculpted chest and come to rest on his shoulders. He looks down into my eyes. His are bright blue like the summer sky under which he spends so much time. He tells me how he thought of me today and couldn’t wait to do this, then demonstrates by covering my mouth with his. I

open beneath him like a flower to the sun. I can feel my petals unfurling at his bright touch and I am aware of how much his sunlight is attracted to my dark night. “Oh really. Too much, ” Monica scoffed and deleted the last sentence. I feel his warm, wet tongue teasing at my lips and his are as tangy and salty as the ocean against my mouth. My lips part under his and soon we are kissing with a feverish intensity as if it had been five years instead of a mere five hours since we were last together. One of his hands cradles my neck, the other slips down my back to cup under my ass and pulls me up tight against his groin. I feel the hard ridge of his cock beneath the loose swim trunks he always wears, as if he might drop everything at any given moment to head for his surfboard and the beach. He grinds against my crotch, lightly, teasingly, letting me feel his erection and I know how much I turn him on. He pulls back from yet one more deep, open-mouthed kiss long enough to ask me how I want it and where. I consider drawing a scented bath in my spacious tub, or being carried upstairs and laid gently down on the silken sheets of my king size bed… Monica smiled thinking of the true nature of her tiny bedroom and crappy little bath. …but instead I tell him that right here is fine. Without another word he is back at my mouth, kissing me frantically, kissing me as if my mouth were oxygen to him. His hands are roaming everywhere now. He fondles my breast through my blouse then pulls the material away and drops his head from my mouth to my breast. He kisses his way over the creamy white skin of my plump, ripe… She reached her hand up and squeezed her A-cup bosom, shook her head and backspaced. He kisses his way over the soft flesh until he reaches the flat circle of my aureole and the tender, rosy bud at the center. There is a moment’s pause and I see him looking up at me with a mischievous grin, then he leans in and envelops my nipple with his mouth. He sucks hard, pulling it out and releasing over and over again. The sharp, tugging sensation is driving me insane. I gasp with pleasure. She sighed and read what she had written so far then began to backspace, neatly blotting out character by character. When she was done it was as if the blank sheet had never been touched. Monica clicked on the open folder icon on her computer and scanned all the partially finished projects she should be working on, must be working on if she wanted to get published, get paid and maintain her bank account. Her grandmother’s trust fund was generous, but not enough to keep Monica solvent without additional income. She called up the article she was working on for Parenting Magazine about children’s escalating television- viewing habits. She began to read what she had already written; the statistics and effects of the plug- in drug and the proposed remedies, which basically boiled down to turning the damn thing off and finding something else for the family to do. God, she hated writing this article! Abruptly she clicked open another blank page and her fingers began flying on the keyboard as images translated to words and words poured onto the screen. The escaped convict, who had invaded my home, forced me to my knees with a rough hand on my shoulder. He pulled open his jeans and I was faced with the dark thatch of hair at his groin. His dick was hard and huge, the veins pulsating with life as it thrust menacingly toward my face, as if of its own will. I feared it, feared him, yet part of me

wanted that hot, throbbing cock in my mouth. To know once and for all what it was like to know the feel, the taste, the very essence of a man. “You want to suck it, baby?” he asks as he thrusts his pelvis toward my face. I was on my knees in front of him with my hands bound behind my back so he knew damn well that I would suck it whether I wanted to or not. He wrapped his hand around the long shaft of his prick and moved the engorged head closer to my mouth, almost as though offering—not demanding. I watched as a pearly drop of pre-cum slid from the tiny slit and slipped down the smooth head. I wondered what his come would taste like. While I was horrified by my submissive posture, a secret part of me throbbed with lust. He held my head steady and guided his cock against my closed lips. I opened my mouth to protest—or so I told myself—and he pushed inside. I tasted the salty skin of his penis against my tongue and the odd, musky flavor of come. Then, without him bidding me do it, I began to suck. The doorbell rang. Monica jumped in her chair. She hurriedly minimized the document then went to answer the door. “Sweetie, how are you? ” Her mom swept into the house like the Queen of the Bronx, and enveloped Monica in a hug. “Hi, mom. What’s up?” It was Wednesday and only ten o’clock in the morning. Showing up unexpectedly midweek was not Julia Brennerman’s modus operandi. “Nothing. Why would you think that? Nothing is up.” The tone of her voice and the repetition of the word “nothing” assured Monica that there was some drama afoot. “Right.” She ushered her mother to the dinette in the kitchen and set about making a mug of coffee. ‘Come on. What is it?’ “I told you, nothing, dear. Oh, honey, you know I won’t drink that instant stuff. Do you have any tea instead?” Monica sighed and went back to the cupboard, showed her mother her selection of teabags and placed two mugs in the microwave to heat. “Spit it out, Mom. ” “I told you…” “Nothing. I know. But last time you came rushing in here at,” she glanced at the clock, “10:17 in the morning, the nothing turned out to be that you were going to have a hysterectomy. ” “All right.” Her mom sighed and brushed back her curly gray hair. “Maybe it is a little something. You know how your cousin Barb works for that travel agency and gets all those discounts? Well…” “Oh no, mom. Don’t even go there,” Monica interrupted. “Now just hear me out, sweetheart. Hawaii! Your dad and me and both of you girls. This summer. The ticket prices were unbelievable! Please. Your father and I want to do this for you and Lisa for next year’s Christmas present. Surely you won’t refuse a Christmas present?” “Mom!” Monica exploded. “What part of ‘agoraphobic’ don’t you understand?” “Yes. I know that, dear. But the doctor did say that if you should start making little forays outdoors.” Mom indicated with her forefinger and thumb the tiny increments Monica could take in progressing back into the outside world. “You could start by working on your garden. You used to love your garden remember?”

“I like my window garden just fine,” Monica said. “And then maybe another day you could take a tiny walk down the sidewalk, to the edge of your yard at first, then maybe as far as the end of the street.” “Mom!” “By summer, who knows, you could be sunning yourself on a Hawaiian beach surrounded by native boys with palm fronds.” “Goodbye, Mother.” “I haven’t had my tea yet,” she protested. The microwave timer rang and Monica pulled the steaming mugs from it. “All right. You’ll get your tea, but you must not bring up Hawaii again. You can tell me about Aunt Helen’s back troubles or how annoying dad’s snoring is. You can even tell me about Barb’s fiancé and all the wedding plans, but you will not bring up Hawaii.” “Well, of course, dear. What do you think I am, insensitive? I can tell when my girl is upset and I won’t mention again the great discount we got, or how your dad has dreamed about having a family vacation like we used to when you girls were little.” “Good.” Monica thought longingly of her dream man, whoever she might invent with words today, waiting for her just a click away in the confines of her computer then turned her attention back to her mother. “So, what color are Barb’s bridesmaid gowns?” By the time her mother left, Monica’s morning was shot. She wasn’t the slightest bit interested in finishing her articles and even the lure of imaginary Brad or Rick or Jacob or Nameless-Guy-who-always-wanted-to-tie- her- up had palled. She clicked on Internet Explorer and skimmed the vast electronic world, searching for the man she had often dreamed of but never dared to pursue. She browsed both the legitimate dating services and the seedy escort ads. Suddenly her attention was caught by a tuxedoed man holding a single red rose. He offered the flower and smiled out at her from the screen as if he had a secret to share. Need someone to escort you to that corporate dinner? A partner to dance with at your cousin’s wedding? How about a date for a quiet evening at home? Ladies and gentlemen, your answer is here at Labors of Love. A quiet evening at home. What would that entail? The site design was conservative and tastefully professional, revealing nothing that would give it away as a sex for sale business. Information and links to various parts of the site took up parts of the screen not occupied by Mr. Perfect Teeth and his flawless red rose. It was so far removed from other escort sites she had visited that she wasn’t sure sex was even on the menu at Labors of Love. It was certainly less threatening than the blatant prostitution she had seen advertised before. Monica wondered if she could actually do this—hire a “date” to sex up her long, lonely days and nights. She sat drumming her fingers on the desk for a moment then reached for the mouse and clicked on the link that led to the catalog of providers. Instantly her screen was covered with smiling men’s faces and naked chests. The shots showed only a bit of torso but the kind of sculpted physiques these men possessed were clear from that brief glimpse of flesh. Monica scanned the faces, names and descriptions. There was square-jawed, AllAmerican Mark, who loved moonlit beach strolls and giving full body massages in front of a crackling fire. David, with Asian cheekbones and almond eyes, was a trained ballroom dancer who would give private lessons in the art of movement. Travis loved

poetry and literature and would explore any subject one desired. He had beautiful dark skin and huge biceps. The steely blue eyes of Yuri, a Russian immigrant, struck Monica speechless. His bio was vague about his past but gave the impression that he was former military and would be happy to discipline you as needed. She was in no doubt now that the sometimes ambiguous wording of the bios was letting you know that sex was part of the date. She lost track of time gazing at the handsome eye-candy, and wondered how Labors of Love had mana ged to secure such perfect specimens of the male sex. When she skipped to the rates page she found out how. The prices were astronomical. Someone on her budget would have to be content with drooling over the website. These guys were obviously meant as playthings for the wealthy, bored elite. She should stop gawking, start working and earn some money. A homeless agoraphobic would not be a pretty sight. Her mouse hovered, then Monica clicked on the candy counter one more time. Halfway down the second page she came across a face that was neither smiling nor pouting with that sexy, come- hither pose male models assume. He was merely staring at the camera with an expression near surprise, as if the photographer had walked into his bathroom and caught him about to get in the shower. Tousled, dirty blond hair tumbled down his forehead over wide, pale blue eyes. Light stubble roughed his cheeks, erasing any impression of femininity that his full lower lip and bowed upper one might impart. A tribal tattoo encircled his arm, but she couldn’t make out the pattern in the small photo. He didn’t have the air of professional polish the other men displayed and was totally non-threatening, yet extremely hot in a scruffy, art student kind of way. He looked like the type of person who didn’t care about his looks and probably wasn’t even aware of them. This was a guy she could feel comfortable inviting into her home for a one-on-one meeting with an option for more physical contact to follow. Her eyes slid across the screen to his name: Ryan. Fantastic! It was a name she loved. She read his bio. “Ryan is a carpenter by trade, experienced in wood-craft. He enjoys working with his hands and will fix anything that needs attention in your home. He is new to our roster but will clearly be in demand by our clientele.” She looked at his face again. I have to have him! Horrified, she pushed away from the desk, escaping temptation. She couldn’t honestly be considering this. Could she? An escort or dating service, call it whatever you wanted, it was still prostitution. How could she demean one of these young men by paying him to pleasure her? It was unethical, scandalous, impossible and humiliating. It was an announcement to herself that she had given up on the possibility of finding someone like normal people do and was reduced to hiring her sex online. She could not do this. She looked at Ryan once more. Stared at him so long she felt his eyes were meeting hers and seeing inside her. Ah, but she wanted him. She was so tired of having no one, no real man’s arms wrapped around her, no heavy body weighing hers down, no lips pressed against hers, no tongue gently probing her mouth or thick, living cock probing her sex. She was sick of vibrators and her own hand and her imaginary fantasies. She wanted a real man. Monica took a deep breath then clicked on the link by Ryan’s name that led her

through the process of ordering her boy toy. She was afraid of filling out the profile about herself, her wants and needs, but she did it. With only a slight hesit ation she clicked the final button to complete the transaction. There went her birthday money from her parents. She wondered how she was going to explain what she bought if they asked. She’d set the date up for Thursday night. Two more days and Ryan would be hers for one evening. Monica collapsed back in her chair and spun it back and forth repetitively. Her heart raced and a panic attack threatened. Was this even legal? Would she get busted by an undercover vice cop and hauled off to jail or fined? Was it a scam and would she get totally ripped off? If so, she deserved it. She definitely deserved it. What kind of a person paid to receive sexual services from another person? She was bad, bad, bad, bad, bad! It was too late. The deed was done. On Thursday night at 8 p.m. she would either open her front door and greet her gentleman caller, or she’d sit alone all evening long waiting until realization dawned that she had been screwed—and not in a good way. Either scenario was a frightening. Monica leaned toward the computer and clicked on the photo gallery one last time. Her big, orange tabby, Amber, jumped up on the computer desk and patted at the screen with one white- mitten paw. The cat loved playing with the cursor as it darted across the screen, but the cursor wasn’t moving. Amber was patting her paw on Ryan’s face. “You approve, Amber? Wow! Uh, thanks.” Monica patted her than moved the heavy cat to the floor. She quickly saved Ryan’s picture to her computer, closed the website and turned her attention back to the “Firm and Fit ” article. She struggled to concentrate on her topic, the best way to determine ideal heart rate for exercise, while thoughts of the upcoming date buzzed around in her mind like a bee in a bell jar. She was going to have a difficult coup le of days.

Chapter Two Ryan stared at a mute Oprah leaning forward and handing a handkerchief to her guest then patting the woman’s knee in head-shaking concern. The camera moved in close on Oprah’s face and she yammered at the network audience for a while. Christ, what a fucking waste of an afternoon. He had been sitting on a hard, plastic chair in the waiting area of the mechanic shop, staring at afternoon TV and listening to the clatter from the garage for the past two hours. His physics textbook lay open on his lap and he hadn’t assimilated any of the formulas on the page. He was going to flunk the test if he couldn’t pull his head out of his ass. If his new “vocation” was going to get him this distracted then maybe he had better rethink it no matter ho w good the money. But the whine of a pneumatic air wrench from the garage reminded him why he had taken the job. The near-death of his Jeep was the final block in a game of financial Jenga that threatened to topple and bury him at any moment. Cash was cruc ial right now and there was no other way he could earn so much so quickly. Hell, if he were paid as well for his woodworking, he would never have reached this precarious position. The problem was that all the shit had hit the fan at once. Gram couldn’t live unsupervised and he had to place her in a nursing home. Construction was in a dry spell and even the small repair jobs that usually kept him afloat were sparse right now. Other businesses weren’t hiring or couldn’t supply the pay he needed to keep himself solvent and his grandma housed. His student loan was maxed, but he refused to give up on school after working at it for so long. He felt pinched between the slowly compressing walls of a trash compactor the day his friend Tim told him he should try a pho ne sex gig. “Perfect for students. You can do your homework between calls. It’s easy work. The client practically leads you through it and the pay is really good.” Ryan had never asked Tim about his weird job. He didn’t really want to know. But, for the first time, he asked, “How good?” Tim laughed a rolling bass that sounded like it should come from a much bigger man. Tim also did the odd voice-over on commercials or audio book recordings, whatever his agent could get him. “Good. You’ve got a great voice for it. Husky. People want that.” Ryan grimaced. “Yeah, whatever. So what’s the pay like?” A couple of days later, he was taking his first phone sex call. At first he wracked his brain to think of sexy things to say. He felt like a fool sitting in a room with co-workers all purring smutty bullshit into their headsets. They moaned, groaned and told the caller what they would like to do to him. Ryan copied the other operators and did like Tim said—listened to what the customer wanted and gave it to him—or her, there were a surprising number of female callers. Rough or sweet, dangerous or comforting, he could act all the parts. He learned to linger over certain words, caressing them and to build the intensity until he brought the client off right over the phone. He could hear them coming and it was kind of satisfying. Other times he felt like a bartender, listening to fears, complaints and self-doubt—for a price. He felt guilty about how much the calls cost when a person unburdened his soul

or broke down in tears as the minutes ticked past. But maybe he was doing some good and it was probably a lot cheaper than a therapist. Ryan had worked the lines for about a month when Gram’s nursing home upped their prices and he began slipping down the slope to insolvency again. One of his coworkers, Jeannie, a middle-aged single mom, listened to his complaining one evening and asked him if he knew how to dance. “Dance?” “You know, like, sexy dancing. ‘Cause the money you can make as an exotic dancer makes our pay look like peanuts and baby, you’ve got the body and the look. You should go to the Boy Box and audition. ” “The Boy Box? That’s a real name?” “It’s an honest enough living. You just happen to take your clothes off while you’re dancing.” “For men. ” “Yes, for men! It’s a gay bar, duh. Honey, sometimes you’re so naïve I wonder you don’t get trampled by this world.” “Nu-uh.” He shook his head. “The phone sex thing is bad enough. Besides I don’t really dance, not like that anyway. ” “With a body like that you don’t know how to move it? Shoot. That’s a pure waste.” Jeannie paused and pursed her lips. “I could teach you, though. You come over to my place tomorrow before work while the kids are at school, I’ll give you a lesson. ” Ryan frowned, trying to decide if she was coming on to him or being friendly. He found out the next afternoon at her house. Turned out Jeannie was a gifted dancer, tutor and a hell of a lay. She taught him to strut and writhe across the makeshift stage of her living room to some soul classics and then they spent the next two hours before school let out dancing in the sheets. Jeannie was energetic and experienced, and by the time they’d repeated the lesson four times Ryan felt he knew more about how to please a woman than he ever had before. After the fourth time he was lying in the tangled sheets sweating, panting and feeling completely boneless. He reached over and stroked her smooth, coffee-colored flank and thanked her for a great time. His legs were shaking from exertion as he thrust them into his jeans and zipped up. Jeannie kissed him goodbye, ran her hand up his stomach toward his chest and tweaked a nipple. “Boy, you would be totally wasted prancing around a stage. I have a friend, who knows a guy who works for an escort service. That’s where the real money is. And I know you’ve got talent. I’ll bring a phone number and name to work with me tonight.” Ryan shook his head. “Thanks, but I don’t think so. I don’t even know if I have the courage to do the stripping thing.” She waved a hand. “Whatever. I’ll bring the number. You decide.” Later that night on his way home from the phone sex job, the timing belt broke on Ryan’s jeep. He had to have it towed then walked to his apartment where a note from his landlord informed him that rent was going up another thirty bucks a month. When he put his frozen dinner in the microwave and it came out rock hard after ten minutes, he threw it across the kitchen smack into the screen of his TV/VCR. It cracked the screen—something he would have bet was impossible to do. He sank down in the

kitchen chair, laughing helplessly at his outrageously bad luck. Then he drew the phone number Jeannie had handed him that night at work from his pocket and made the call. The suite that housed Labors of Love was located in a regular office park. Ryan had expected erotic sculptures or paintings but the reception area was tastefully neutral. He waited for less than a minute before a stocky woman in a tailored jacket and slacks came out, shook his hand and led him back to an interview room. There he was photographed, weighed, measured and asked to fill out a psychological questionnaire. His interviewer, Ms. Darrow informed him that he would need to pass a standard physical, drug and HIV testing before he could be employed. He was impressed by their thoroughness. Ms. Darrow questioned Ryan about his background and his reasons for seeking this type of employment then asked him if he had any questions about Labors of Love. “How does it work? How would I be matched up with a … a client?” “You will be requested by someone who has seen your photo in our online catalog. You have the option of accepting or rejecting the assignment but too many rejected assignments may lead to your dismissal. It reflects poorly on us if a provider is repeatedly unavailable when a client requests him. Unless, of course, he is simply overbooked.” She looked Ryan over appraisingly and he tried not to squirm. “I don’t suppose you have many female clients. Would I be expected to date men? Because I’m really not too into that.” It was the confession he was afraid would be a dealbreaker, but Ms. Darrow took it in stride. “Pity, because you’re right, about seventy five percent of our clients are homosexual males. That cuts down on your share of the market considerably. If you wo uld be willing to entertain either sex it would be preferable. However, you would be surprised how many ladies we do serve and I’m sure you will be quite popular with them.” Ryan had no further questions and Mrs. Darrow told him she would contact him in the near future then saw him out the door. Later that evening when she called and told him that Labors of Love would like to add him to their roster provided the results of his blood work and tests were clean, he listened to himself thanking her for the opportunity. “Motherfucker, you’re not seriously going to do this,” he said as he hung up the phone. But a call from the garage an hour later giving him the estimate on his Jeep silenced his inner voice. A few days later, after he’d passed the required tests, Mrs. Darrow called to tell him he had an assignment with a woman named Monica Brennerman on Thursday at her home. Ryan took down the woman’s address and information about what she was looking for in her date. He learned that she had rarely been out of her home in the past two years. Monica had friends and relatives who visited but had lived a reclusive life for so long she might be awkward and shy. It was his job to put her at ease, share a romantic meal and then provide her with whatever kind of companions hip was required. Ms. Darrow told him that Labors would have preferred to have one of their established customers as his first client, but since Ms. Brennerman had chosen him, he would have to acclimate quickly. Now it was Thursday afternoon, only hours before his first Labors of Love assignment. Ryan balanced the physics text on one leg and watched Oprah’s mouth move, but he was picturing Monica Brennerman. He imagined she would be a classic

spinster like on the Old Maid cards. He was mortally afraid of ho w he would react, or more accurately, not be able to react, to her. What if she was repulsive and he literally couldn’t get it up? Did the customer get reimbursed for non-performance? Would it come out of his paycheck—a Labors of Love paycheck he hadn’t even earned yet? Maybe he would end up owing them money. “Your Jeep’s ready. ” The mechanic who had come through the door from the garage area startled Ryan from his thoughts. “It’s parked around to the side. It was a little more expensive than we estimated though. In addition to the timing belt there was this oil leak we had to…” “Didn’t I tell you not to fix anything else without checking with me first?” Ryan shoved his textbook into his backpack and stood up to face off with the mechanic. It had taken days for them to work on his vehicle and when he came to pick it up he had still been forced to wait. Now additional charges were being tacked on? No way. He let all of his fears and worries about tonight morph into anger directed at the mechanic. “I’m not paying one penny more than what you quoted me!” One chastened mechanic and a significantly reduced bill later, Ryan walked out of the garage with the keys to his Jeep clutched in one hand and his backpack slung over his shoulder. Maybe after a shower he would finally have a moment to concentrate on his reading before he left for his appointment. Yeah, right. **** Several hours later, he pulled up in front of the address he had been given. It was a very small, brick ranch house with a tiny front yard in a neighborhood of duplicate houses with neat green lawns. No children’s toys littered the sidewalks or yards. The street was quiet with few parked cars. It screamed “old people on fixed incomes.” Ryan, knowing the rates Labors of Love charged, wondered how Ms. Brennerman could afford the service. This was not at all the kind of place he had expected. Now that the moment was on him, his heart was pounding in his chest. He hoped his clothes were okay. In her request, Monica had suggested casual attire. He had comp lied wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt with a jacket over it to suggest a modicum of dressing up. He looked down at his scuffed boots and realized that he probably should have made an attempt to polish them. Ryan took a quick glance in the rearview mirror and ran a hand through his hair. It stuck out in odd directions as usual. He could never get it to lay flat and had long ago given up trying. Looking at himself he wondered again how he had passed Ms. Darrow’s inspection and been hired. He had taken a look at the Labors of Love website and seen the other providers— God how he hated that word—and he knew what he was supposed to look like. What they had, he didn’t have. Okay, maybe his body was fit. He admitted that. But his face, which this woman had chosen above all those other guys, was certainly nothing special. “You can’t sit here forever,” he told himself. “Go. Now. ” He opened the door, slowly got out of the car and walked up the cement path to the dark green painted front door. He rang the bell, offering a silent prayer that Monica not be too homely, even though he had no right to ask because he was about to perform an illegal, immoral act. His pulse, pounding in his ears, was deafening as the moment of waiting dragged out. He wiped damp hands on the sides of his jeans and cleared his throat so his voice

wouldn’t crack when he spoke. He had an insane desire to sniff his pits and make sure he smelled okay and he laughed at the image he would present if she opened the door and caught him doing that. Thus, he was standing there grinning like a fool when the door finally opened. At first Monica was featureless, a female silhouette against the brightly lit doorway. Ryan blinked and wiped the shit-eating grin off his face. He resisted the urge to back away—or maybe even bolt. Then she moved under the glow of the porch light and Ryan could see her clearly. He was so relieved that he just stood there staring for a moment. She was a cutie. Short. If she stepped into his arms, he could rest his chin on top of her head. She had curly dark hair pulled loosely back into a ponytail. Her features were sharp in a way that reminded him of a fox or cat—something small, quick and clever like that. Her nose was little and slightly pointy, her face heart-shaped. Wide, dark eyes fringed with black lashes gazed at him from under quizzically up-tilted brows. He stared into them mutely and watched her expression melt from nervous anticipation to increasing self-doubt with each silent moment that passed. He shook himself and stuck out a hand. “Hi. I’m, uh, Ryan, your … your date.” She extended a hand and he accepted it, shaking firmly. What an idiot. He should be kissing her hand and telling her how beautiful she was, not pumping it up and down like they had just concluded a business agreement. “Monica,” she replied, extricating her hand from his grip. “Sorry. I’m kind of new at this,” he muttered, then realized that it was inappropriate to admit his inexperience. He was supposed to be sweeping her off her feet and giving her the romantic night of a lifetime, not bumbling and stammering. “Let me start over.” He took a deep breath. “Good evening. I’m Ryan, your escort for the evening. It is such a pleasure to meet you. And may I say that you look stunning in that outfit?” He’d deepened his voice into a foreign accent that sounded vaguely like Dracula with a Scottish burr. Monica’s face lit up, a smile stretched her lips and then she began to laugh. Ryan grinned back. This was going to be okay. He could do this. Hell, for the first time he thought he might have a lot of fun doing this.

Chapter Three “Come in.” Monica led Ryan through the door of her house. He had put her at ease with his laid-back demeanor, but her pulse still raced as it had off and on for most of the day. She could smell him and feel his body heat as he passed her in the hallway. His scent was not cologne, simply a combination of soap, deodorant and male pheromones, but she thought it should be bottled. “Can I, uh, take your jacket?” “Sure.” He handed it to her and she mentally added leather to the list of scents for the “Ryan” cologne. She had an impulse to bury her face in the coat and take a deep whiff before hanging it up in the closet. She stole another glance at him, looking for flaws that hadn’t been visible in the porch light. He was still achingly beautiful. The light picked up gold highlights in his hair, which curled haphazardly over his forehead and straggled down his neck. It looked like he had just run a hand through it and given up, a tousled effect she was sure an expensive stylist had achieved. The casual bed head look suited him perfectly. Monica longed to run her hands through his hair. Beneath the fringe of bangs his translucent blue eyes scanned her living room. She wondered what he was thinking. She tried to see it as he would. Her furniture was comfortable and well- used. A couch, armchair, TV and stereo sound system designated the living room area. A desk, file cabinet and a shelf of books and periodicals marked one corner of the room as her office. She looked at his eyes again. They were what had caught her attention in the photo to begin with. They were an otherworldly pale blue ringed by darker navy—intense, yet wide open and sincere. “He’s got Jared Leto eyes,” her mind sang to the tune of Bette Davis Eyes. Okay, she was wandering here. She needed to focus—maybe even say something. Amber, who had been lying on the couch, perked up her ears, unrolled herself from a ball and jumped down to stroll across the floor to investigate the stranger. Ryan stooped to pat her and won instant brownie points with Monica. With amazing nonchalance considering how seldom she saw strangers, Amber arched up into his stroking hand then began twining around his ankles. “Nice cat. Friendly. ” He straightened and turned toward Monica. “Yeah. She, uh, really seems to like you. ” She wracked her brain for something else to say as an awkward silence fell on them. “Look, I know this is kind of strange,” Ryan said. “And I might as well tell you up front, I’m not that suave. I know it sounds stupid but to use a cliché … ‘I’ve never done this before.’” Monica blinked, dumbfounded. She was his first client? Oh my God! She thought of the hours she’d spent over the past few days cleaning her house, rethinking her wardrobe, fighting off panic attacks and almost calling Labors of Love to cancel. Her focus had been completely on herself, her nerves. It had never once occurred to her that her “provider” might be just as nervous. “To make it easier,” Ryan continued. “Let’s pretend this is a blind date some mutual friends set up, well meaning friends who are throwing us together because they think

we’re ‘perfect for each other.’ Ever been on one of those?” “Oh yeah. ” Monica nodded. “I don’t really leave the house these days but it wasn’t always like that. I had my share of blind dates back in high school and college. Usually not a pretty sight.” Ryan grinned and her heart jolted in her chest. He was such a charmer. “Okay. So, we’re on this blind date. We’ll talk about stuff, get to know each other, ye ah? And then later we’ll see where it leads.” His smile disappeared. He frowned, looking suddenly uncertain and consequently much younger. “Unless you wanted to, you know, just get to it.” “NO! I mean, no, not at all. Plan A is good. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get us something to drink. Dinner should be along in about,” she glanced at her watch, “twenty minutes. I know, you’d think being in my house all the time I’d have these amazing culinary skills, but I’m actually a pretty crappy cook so I ordered our meal from a catering service. Have you heard of The Ample Pantry? ” “Not really, but anything sounds good right now. I missed lunch. ” She noted that he sat down on the couch with casual ease of a long time friend dropping over, that calmed her nerves, but only a little. She went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of wine. She drank about half of hers in a quick gulp and replenished it before returning to the living room where she offered Ryan his glass. “I hope you like Chardonnay. ” He accepted it and took a sip while Monica sat on the other end of the couch putting a whole cushion and Amber between them. “I understand you’re a freelance writer. What kind of writing do you do?” “Articles for lots of different magazines from Ladies’ Home Journal to Parenting to some obscure journals you would never have heard of. I do my research online or through telephone interviews and I have a photographer friend who takes care of getting pictures if they’re needed for the article. It’s pretty lucrative but sporadic work, and, of course, no pension plan or paid sick days,” she added with a laugh. “Same here,” he said obviously intending to joke, but only succeeding in reminding her that he was a paid companion. There was a beat or two of silence. Monica took a long sip of her wine wondering if the evening was ever going to get less awkward. She had thought about pretending to not be home when Ryan rang the doorbell. As her breathing grew ragged and her anxiety mounted, she had practiced the deep breathing techniques Dr. Brewer taught her and to withdraw to her mental safe place. How had she ever thought that such a stressful situation wouldn’t have ramifications for her? For someone who couldn’t even venture into the outside world, how had she thought she could bring a stranger into hers? But she had answered the door and now he was here and she had to deal with him. Monica cleared her throat. “I saw in your bio that you’re into woodworking. ” “Yeah, I had an uncle who taught me everything from building birdhouses to making repairs around the house. That’s what I was doing before, but construction is soft right now and I was having trouble finding work.” It seemed all topics led back to the fact that he was, in effect, working for her. Ryan seemed to realize her discomfort because he set his glass on the coffee table, scooted Amber off the couch and slid over next to Monica. “Look, I can tell you’re kind of weirded out by all this, but I want you to know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t my

choice. Just so you can relax, let’s get the whole first kiss thing out of the way, okay? ” She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything he covered it with his, moving his lips softly over hers. He teased at her mouth until she responded and kissed back. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation of his tender, moist kisses nibbling away at her resistance. The tension she had been living with for the past couple of days faded to the far reaches of her consciousness, and her focus became that point of contact between them. His hands cradled her face and he danced the tip of his tongue across her lips. Monica darted out her own tongue to meet it. Their tongues delicately touched and an electric spark rocketed straight down to her crotch. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands crept around his back and clenched in the folds of his shirt. Ryan snaked his tongue into her mouth and lightly tickled the inside of her upper lip. She jumped, snorted with laughter and pulled away, one hand going to her mouth. He grinned, tha t open, infectious grin, and pulled her back to him, arms around her body this time. There was no teasing or tickling now as he kissed her forcefully and embraced her tightly. Her breasts pressed against his hard chest and she thought she could feel his heart pounding, but maybe it was hers. He kissed her so deeply that she was gasping for air by the time he released her. She sat for a moment with her eyes still closed trying to decide if she felt dizzy because of the lack of oxygen, the wine or the power of his kiss. “Better?” he asked, brushing his thumb over her lips then tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Monica opened her eyes and nodded mutely, beyond speech. Her lips felt swollen and ultra-sensitive. She resisted the urge to put her hand to her mout h and touch them. “Good, ‘cause your doorbell just rang and I think the food’s here.” “Okay. ” She stood up, still fuzzy- headed, and went to get the door. Ryan helped her unload the serving dishes and arrange them on the kitchen table she had set up with service for two. She lit the candle and they sat down to eat the swordfish steaks, rice and vegetables. “I hope you like fish, ” she said. “This restaurant has the best Parmesan chicken but I thought something without garlic would be better for tonight.” “It’s fantastic. I haven’t had a meal like this in … ever. I usually get Chinese takeout or make frozen pizza, and Gram never moved beyond stew or goulash in the cookbook.” “Your Gram?” “She pretty much raised me,” he explained. “My mom wasn’t really in the picture.” “Oh. ” Monica thought of her own mom who would never get out of the picture and was suddenly glad she had a doting mother. “So, besides writing and not cooking, what else do you do?” Ryan asked. “Do you like watching sports? Movies? Reality shows?” “All of the above actually.” She lowered her voice in mock confidentiality. “I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of a TV junky. ” “Oh reaaally.” Ryan propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands. “Classic TV too?” “Of course.”

“All right then, TV Land trivia time. Well, not trivia really, more of a poll. Munsters or Addams Family?” “Addams Family,” Monica answered promptly, catching on to the game. “Bewitched or I Dream of Jeannie?” Ryan made a scoffing noise, “Pfft. Jeannie of course.” She shook her head. “Men. They always go for the sexy costume.” “Beverly Hillbillies or Gilligan’s Island?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “Mm.” She hesitated. “Beverly Hillbillies overall with exception for certain classic Gilligan episodes.” “Oh, come on! Hillbillies over castaways? I don’t think so.” Monica struggled to think of another pairing. “Dallas or Dynasty? ” “Neither,” he said flatly. “Um … Adam-12 or Dragnet?” “Definitely neither. Okay, last pair. The Love Boat or Fantasy Island, and you have to pick one,” she said, catching his grimace. “If I have to, then Fantasy Island.” She nodded in agreement. “More scope for imagination. ” They finished their meal in companionable small talk and an hour into the date Monica felt like she had known Ryan for years. She almost forgot what the point of the evening was—almost. After they had finished eating and cleared the table, Monica opened a second bottle of wine, pouring them each a glass. They moved back to the living room couch and sat quietly sipping their wine, listening to the adult contemporary music playing softly from the TV. Sarah McLachlan’s plaintive voice crooned about the arms of the angels and her words filled the room. “You like this song? ” Ryan asked. She nodded. “You don’t?” “It’s too sad. Life’s depressing enough, don’t you think?” “This song’s not depressing. It’s meant to be comforting. ” “I have a better idea. We should dance.” He took the remote and changed the TV to a 50’s and 60’s station on which classic be-bop was playing. He stood up, pulled Monica to her feet and led her to the empty place in the center of the room. He twirled her around, passed her under his arm and moved her around in complicated patterns. She’d never danced much before but he was such a confident lead that she found it easy to follow. Her heart pumped and she laughed aloud as they jitterbugged their way through the rest of the song. By the end both of them were breathless. “Where … did you learn … to dance like that?” Monica panted, brushing sweat and tangled curls from her forehead. “Gram. She actually won prizes for ballroom dancing back in the ‘40s.” His hand was on Monica’s lower back and he gave her a little dip before righting her. He still held her close in his arms as he added, “She was a real character. When I was a kid and I’d get in a bad mood and sulk around the house or mouth off, she’d look at me like she was reading me and say, ‘You need to dance.’ Then she’d make me dance with her.” “So dancing as punishment.” Monica laughed. “That’s unique discipline. My mom made me and my sister sit on the couch until we could ‘act civilized,’ but all we ended up doing was poking or slapping at each other until we got the giggles.”

She paused, her hand smoothing over the material of his shirt stretched tight over his chest. “Has your grandmother passed on then? You said ‘was.’” “No. Alzheimer’s. She’s still here but … not, you know?” A slow song began and he led her into a traditional foxtrot. “But we’re not here to talk about my Gram. ” They shuffled around the tiny living room and their steps grew smaller and smaller until they were simply swaying in place. It felt so good to be wrapped in a man’s strong embrace, to feel his hot body pressed against the length of her front, his warm hands stroking up and down her back. One of his hands wandered up to rub the muscles of her neck and she relaxed even further, allowing her head to rest against his chest. She held onto him as tightly as he was holding her and wished that this was for real, that instead of a paid companio n he was a real boyfriend who was here because he wanted to be with her. When the song ended, Ryan stepped back from her and tilted her face up with one hand. The other was still around her waist. Monica looked up at him, feeling abruptly shy and even a little frightened. She knew where this was leading. But his eyes were gentle, his mouth smiling and her fears disappeared as he leaned down to kiss her once more. She responded automatically to the insistent pressure of his mouth, opening beneath his touch as naturally as if they had been doing this together for years. His tongue explored the landscape of her mouth while his hand stroked the side of her face. His hand at the small of her back dropped lower and began to knead the swell of her buttocks. He held her tight against his groin and she could feel the bulge of his erection growing. Her nipples peaked and her crotch tightened and released reflexively. The knowledge that her body turned him on was erotic catnip to her. Ryan’s mouth abandoned hers and traveled over her jaw and down her neck, leaving a trailed of kisses. She tilted her head back to grant him access to her throat. He sucked at the tender skin over her pulse point and she let out an unintentional moan. His kissed her chest but her blouse was impeding his progress toward her breasts. Her nipples grew even harder as she anticipated his mouth on them. Ryan unbuttoned and removed her blouse, cast it on the floor then continued his exploration over the swell of her breasts. His lips and tongue were wet and warm on her skin. He touched her right nipple through the sheer fabric of her bra. She jumped as if she’d received a jolt of electricity. Ryan pulled away, looking up at her with a quizzically raised brow. “Nothing. It’s just … been a while.” He nodded and resumed nuzzling, sucking her left nipple into his mouth. It was hot and wet even with her breast still encased in cloth. He reached behind her and unfastened her bra swiftly and easily, making her extremely aware that he was proficient at this. He straightened as he pulled the bra off her and gazed at her small, pert breasts. Monica’s hands reached to cover them. Her cheeks burned. She camouflaged her embarrassment with a self-deprecating laugh. “Mom always said I’d fill out but…” Ryan moved her hands firmly away from her breasts and replaced them with his

own, weighing each petite globe and thumbing her raspberry nipples. “They’re perfect.” He leaned down again and sucked one breast in his mouth while fondling the other. Suddenly they felt perfect. He drew her nipple out with the suction of his mouth and a careful tug of his teeth, extending it and then letting go with a pop. The drawing and releasing sensation sent Monica’s nerve endings clamoring an alarm from her tit straight down to her vagina, telling it to wake up and get ready for some action. Her vulva tightened in anticipation. As Ryan switched his attentions to her other breast Monica looked down at his shaggy head and the slice of his profile pressed against her tit. She wanted to touch his hair and see if it was a soft as it looked. Hesitantly, she took her hand from his back and stroked his hair then plunged her fingers into its thickness. She wrapped her hand around his skull and drew him even closer to her breast. Her eyes closed and she moaned softly. Ryan was in an awkward half crouch and suddenly he pulled away and straightened up. Monica opened her eyes. “Do you want to…? Shall we go lie down now?” he asked. She nodded. “The bedroom is…” She gestured toward the hall and before she could turn and lead him that direction, he swooped her up in his arms like she weighed no more than a child. Instinctively her arm went around his neck. Like some kind of romance novel barbarian or honeymoon bridegroom he carried her to her room. The light aroma of sandalwood and flowers permeated the room from the candles she’d lit earlier. Ryan deposited her on the bed and she watched with mounting excitement as he stripped off his T-shirt. His body was male model-perfect with a smooth, solid chest, well- muscled arms and a flat, ridged abdomen. A tawny gold trail of hair led from his navel down to the button at the top of his jeans. She stared at the button avidly then glanced up and saw him watching her with amusement. “You want to examine the merchandise,” he teased. His hands worked the button out of its hole and slowly pulled down the zipper beneath. Monica’s tongue darted out to lick her lips. She felt light- headed. “More?” he asked, still teasing. She nodded. This was beyond any of her writer’s fantasies. It was “in your face” real and consequently both intensely erotic and frightening. Only the fact that Ryan seemed so relaxed and at ease kept her mounting anxiety from developing into a full-blown panic attack. As if sensing her nervousness, Ryan paus ed and gave her a reassuring smile. “There’s no hurry. We could kiss some more or we don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to.” The thought of stopping now was untenable. Monica’s resolve firmed as her libido flared. “No. I don’t want to stop. More. Please.” He slid both jeans and underwear over the blades of his hipbones and revealed a ginger thatch of pubic hair. He released his cock from the waistband of his underwear and it thrust out magnificently from his body. Monica was reminded of a figurehead bursting from the prow of a ship and she suppressed the giddy urge to giggle. “What?” Ryan said. “Nothing. I’m just … overwhelmed and … maybe a little tipsy. ” He smiled and dropped his pants down around his ankles then stepped out of them.

He stood in her bedroom naked. A naked, live man standing in her bedroom—without clothes—naked—in her bedroom. It was her fantasy come to life and she didn’t know if she could contain her nervous desire to laugh much longer. Monica gave a long exhalation of air then murmured, “Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for the waistband of her skirt. In moments he had divested her of both skirt and underpants. She felt cool air and Ryan’s hot eyes caressing her bare pelvis, thighs and crotch. He slowly smoothed his hands up and down her thighs, moving a little higher, a little closer to her pussy with each stroke. “You’re beautiful.” She looked to his eyes to see if he was lying. They were glittering in the dancing candlelight. She might be paying Ryan to make love to her, but the desire in his eyes was real. For the first time in a long time, Monica felt beautiful. She knew it was probably weak of her to need a man’s approving gaze to tell her that, but she did. With his hands he nudged her legs apart and crawled in between them, lowering his face toward her crotch. He inhaled her scent. She reclined against her pillows and watched him breathe her in. Her heart pounded so hard against her chest that she feared it might burst through. He leaned down and kissed a trail around the dark triangle of her pubic hair, across her twitching belly and over her quivering thighs. He teased her, nibbling and kissing all around his target, touching her everywhere but her sex. She arched her hips up toward his mouth but he continued his evasive dance. She whimpered quietly in frustration as he continued to withhold the contact she craved. And finally, she begged, “Please…” She saw him smile then he complied, separating the folds of her labia to reveal the hard nub of her clit. She gasped as he licked across it once with a slow stroke of his tongue. He descended lower, lapping deep into her cleft then back up toward her clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. Monica jerked, crying out from the intensity of his sensual assault. It had been so long since a man had touched her down there, even longer since anyone had given her oral sex. His tongue was amazing, incredible, almost a religious experience. She wanted more. She wanted everything. Ryan worked one finger, two and then three inside her, still stimulating her with his mouth. He pumped in and out with his fingers. Her pelvis rose to meet his hand, thrusting with the rhythm he set, following his lead as she had when they danced. “Oh God!” she cried, already feeling herself spiraling up and up, out of her body. “Right there. Yes! Ahhhh!” Her back arched as she bucked up hard, convulsing in a powerful orgasm. Her loud cry resounded through the quiet bedroom. Aftershocks trembled through her and her body twitched as they receded, her vagina pulsing with continued contractions. Her chest heaved up and down until her panting breaths slowly leveled out. Finally she lay still. Ryan, still between her thighs, rubbed her legs gently and kissed her mound. He slid up her body until he was looking down into her eyes. “Thank you. That was … unbelievable,” she whispered. “My pleasure.” His voice was low and raspy and his eyes still burned with heat and

hunger. She felt his cock brushing against her hyper-sensitive clit and she shuddered. “Do you want more?” For a second she didn’t know what he meant. Then she realized that she had to let him know how much sex she wanted before he would go farther. “Yes. Please, go on. ” She arched up, rubbing against him. Her pussy yawned open, aching for the rest, demanding to be filled completely. He groaned quietly, deep in his throat, sending shivers through her once more. Then suddenly his weight lifted off her. He leaned over the side of the bed, and from the pocket of his jeans, retrieved a foil wrapped packet and tore it open with his teeth. He rolled the condom on, and turned to Monica. “Do you prefer to be on top?” “No. This is fine.” She reached for him, grabbed his arms and pulled him back over her. “This is good.” She sighed as his warm, heavy body weighed her down again. “It feels so nice.” “Good.” The word was almost soundless. She watched his intent face as he reached down between them and guided his cock to her opening. When he pushed inside, his eyes closed and he sucked in air through his open mouth. The ecstatic inhalation aroused Monica. She felt desperately needed and she wanted to elicit more groans and sighs. Tilting her pelvis up for a better angle, she reached behind Ryan and grabbed his ass, urging him the rest of the way in. His face, suspended above her, was tight with passion, a frown creasing his brow. He groaned, just as she had hoped he would, and the resonating bass sent a stab of lust through her, making her clench around his cock. He held most of his body weight on his arms and she was entranced with the bulge of muscle in his biceps. She reached her hands up, stroked the corded muscles and marveled at the strength coursing through them. Slowly he moved inside her, rocking back and forth to create a little friction but barely moving. He filled her in deep and satisfying ways that no vibrator could ever equal. He pulled languorously almost all the way out then eased as slowly back in. His cock was thick, stretching her pussy with every stroke. Again and again he pulled out and pushed in, incrementally speeding up with each thrust, building a sense of urgency within her, which she saw reflected in his face. The knowledge that she was giving him so much pleasure gave Monica a sense of power. She increased her efforts, gripping him with her inner muscles and arching to meet him on each thrust. She had never been able to achieve an interior orgasm with any of her college boyfriends, but tonight, unexpectedly, with a virtual stranger inside her, she felt something beginning to blossom. On every thrust he hit a place deep inside her that generated a slow-burning buildup of energy. Ryan’s slow pumping turned into hard pounding. He became more erratic, breathing harder, groaning louder and losing himself in her. In response to his need, the blossom deep inside her began to flower. Like a tightly clenched fist, her desire slowly unfurled, releasing tension finger by finger until the fist became a hand and the hand was open and reaching out. She felt a deep, prolonged sense of release, a contrast to the sharp intensity of her first orgasm. Once more her muscles clenched around his shaft and she felt the pulsing shudders of

Ryan’s cock as he came, too. His primal cry was more erotic than any human words could be. She heard her own high-pitched cries rising over his like treble over bass. She clung to him tightly, her arms around his back and her legs grappled around his waist. Their passion coursed through them and left them in ebbing waves. Panting, Monica came back to herself. Ryan’s head rested on her breast and she ran her hand through his irresistibly soft hair, damp now with sweat. He turned his face slightly to press his lips to her breast. “Thank you, ” he murmured. This is afterglow, she thought idly. She’d either never felt it before, or it had been so long since her last sex that she’d forgotten what it was like. She wanted to lie here drowsing with him forever. Forever. That word brought her sharply back to reality. This was not a forever kind of situation. This was a one time only deal. Immediately her euphoria dissipated and she was left with an aching yearning. Even as she held Ryan’s warm body to hers she could feel him already gone. As if reading her mind, he said, “Shall I stay a while, or do you want me to go?” She wanted him to remain all night, but in terms of their contract, time was literally money. She tried not to think of how much a little post-coital cuddling would cost her. “It’s up to you. ” “I’m in no hurry, ” he said. “I’ll stay a while—if you don’t mind.” He paused then added. “I won’t charge you. ” “Please stay, ” Monica said. Yes, her mind echoed, please stay.

Chapter Four In the early dawn, Ryan got up and dressed to go home. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss Monica’s shoulder. “Thanks for making my first time so easy, ” he whispered. “Ask for me again. ” He brushed her hair back from her temple. “I should see you out,” she murmured sleepily. “It’s okay. Sleep.” He headed out, pausing in her bedroom doorway for one last look at her dark, tousled head on the pillow. Driving home from her house in the gray morning light, he felt a weight settle on his chest. Sleeping with Monica had been a pretty sweet gig. Why did he feel so worn out and melancholy? Ryan entered his dreary apartment and it seemed smaller, shabbier and colder than ever. When he flipped on the light, the fucking cockroaches skittered away to their dark holes. He tossed his keys on the table, shrugged out of his jacket, took a leak and rinsed his face in the bathroom sink then toppled into bed still fully clothed. But he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept going back over his first experience as a gigolo—hustler, whore, prostitute, fuck-toy. He had just had sex for money! Sex with a woman who, under normal circumstances, he would be calling for a second date. He liked Monica. She was sweet, funny, a little quirky and completely adorable. He would like to know her better, see her again. That was a consequence he had never considered, or expected when taking on this job. “What the fuck?” he snarled, stripping off his shirt and throwing it on the floor. “Grow up.” He couldn’t lie here mooning about this girl. He had to get some sleep, wake up and squeeze in study time before his morning class. Then he had to make a visit to Rose Arbor and see Gram. He hadn’t been in over two weeks what with work, school and his ailing Jeep. Ryan burrowed under the covers and squeezed his eyes shut, but his mind still raced. After his visit with Gram he had to go to his phone sex job, which he hadn’t quit yet until he found out how Labors of Love paid off. Something was going to have to give and he was damned if it was going to be his college courses. At the rate of three or four classes per semester it was going to take him years to get a B. A., let alone the architectural degree he coveted. Ryan rolled over and covered his head with the pillow trying to stop his whirling thoughts. Shit, maybe he should get a union card and work construction full time, give up on college and accept his blue-collar place in the world. At least then he could have some pride in his work instead of being ashamed of it. He threw the pillow across the room so it bounced off his dresser and crawled out of bed. He padded barefoot into the living room, located his Comparative Lit book under an empty pizza box and sat down on the couch to read. **** The bright morning light filtered through the living room blinds, highlighting the

obituary section of the newspaper Monica was gazing at blindly as she walked on her treadmill. Her body might be getting a workout, but her mind was on her workout with Ryan last night. The phone rang, interrupting her reflections. “What were you doing last night?” her sister, Lisa, began without a greeting. “What?” Monica flashed back to skin on skin, Ryan’s mouth on her crotch, his dick moving inside her, his arms, his chest, his hair, his face contorted in orgasmic bliss. “Um, what?” “Hello? I mean, why was your phone off the hook? I was trying to call all evening. What do you think about this plan of Mom and Dad’s to take us to Hawaii? It’s way too expensive. We shouldn’t let them do it, but doesn’t it sound like fun? I think this might be just what I need to get past all the crap that happened last year with Steve. But it won’t be any fun if you don’t go too. Monica, you have to at least think about it. If you have intensive sessions with Dr. Brewer or something, don’t you think you could begin by going outdoors again? I mean, you used to. So I was thinking you should take it in baby steps.” “Have you been talking to Mom about me?” “Think about it, Monica. You’ve had the panic attacks ever since middle school but it wasn’t until after college when you had that horrible job you hated, and Carl who treated you like shit and dumped you, that you began having attacks every time you went out. You used to at least be able to go places with me, but then you drew in like a turtle in a shell until you weren’t going anywhere.” “Yeah. I know. Lived it,” Monica snapped, irritated by Lisa’s retrospective of her slow decline into being housebound. “My point is, if we work back in the opposite direction, you might be able to get better again. You should aim for going to Cousin Barb’s wedding shower. You wouldn’t even have to stay very long. Five minutes tops. Long enough to show Barb you cared enough to show up for her. Won’t you try? ” “I’ll think about it.” She said the words, but without any conviction. “I’m not stupid. I know you’re just trying to get me off your back. Come on, Monica, you can’t live this way forever. Aren’t you ready for a change?” Again visions of last night strobed in Monica’s mind. “I said I’ll think about it. Stop pushing.” Lisa filled her in on her impressions of Barb’s new fiancé, then Monica made an excuse to end the conversation. She hung up and thought about her recent interactions with her family. They were really giving her the hard press these days. Baby steps, they said. Well hadn’t she taken a giant step last night by having sex with a stranger? That was really stepping outside the box. Maybe it was time to see if she could physically step outside as well. She walked through the kitchen to the back door and paused with her hand on the knob. She turned it and opened the door. A brisk, cold early morning breeze swept inside. She stepped out onto the back step and breathed deeply. All right, so far so good. She stepped down onto the patio, the flat stones now overgrown with grass. She ventured a few steps farther into the yard. The weed-covered square that used to be her beautiful garden sent a pang of remorse through Monica. She used to tend it so faithfully, now weeds were the only lush plants to grow there. She walked toward the plot, her senses zinging with all the input from the now-

foreign environment of the outdoors. She could smell the dirt beneath her feet, automobile fumes wafting from the street, fabric softener scent floating from someone’s laundry room exhaust and the faintest tinge of frying bacon. Her sensitive ears rang from the cacophony of bird cries, traffic noise, a dog barking and television voices coming from a nearby house. The wind raised goose bumps on her arms and she shivered, wrapping them around herself. Monica took another deep breath, enjoying the liberating sensation of simply standing outdoors. She walk ed the perimeter of her garden, remembering what it felt like to toil there in the fragrant soil under the hot summer sun. And then abruptly, for no discernable reason that she could tell, that feeling of freedom was too overwhelming. Her heart beat faster as the sense of the largeness of the world engulfed her. Too fast. Her pulse rate shot up at an alarming rate, as if she had sprinted down the block and back in seconds flat. She recognized the beginning of a panic attack and began to walk back toward the house, again concentrating on deep breathing as she had the prior evening. Keep it together, Monica. She would control her body and not let her body control her. But she could already feel the escalating symptoms. By the time she reached the house and slammed the door behind her she was gasping for air. She crumpled to her knees and fought her attack into submission. Dr. Brewster, who specialized in anxiety disorders, had explained that her condition was psychological, but real at a physical level. He had told her that she was genetically pre-disposed to anxiety attacks, as were sufferers of bi-polar syndrome or obsessivecompulsive disorder. Knowing that, however, didn’t make it any easier when people gave her the impression they thought she was a weak-willed, over-dramatic hypochondriac. The waves of anxiety finally subsided. Monica sat with her forehead pressed to her knees, still breathing deeply, tears running down her cheeks. She cried for the debilitating fears that kept her imprisoned in her house. Cried for the loss of something she hadn’t realized she missed until last night. The fulfillment she had received through sex with Ryan only made the absence of it worse, and she almost wished she had never had the experience. Almost. “Ask for me again.” His parting words drifted through her mind, giving her a sense of peace in her personal storm. He was only a phone call away. But she couldn’t hire him again, could she? Her budget wouldn’t stand it. **** Ryan turned into the drive of Rose Arbor that afternoon with a heavy heart. As much as he loved Gram, this was a depressing way to spend the afternoon. She didn’t recognize him at all any more. He tried to show her pictures from her photo album, but she batted it out of his hand and started yelling about Andrew, who had stolen her baseball mitt. He had no idea if it was a childhood memory or something completely invented. He stayed for an hour talking to her as if she still understood him, reminiscing about incidents in their life together and by the time he left she seemed calmer—actually almost catatonic, gazing at the wall as though she were looking out a window.

He leaned over and kissed the papery skin of her forehead. He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Bye, Gram. I’ll be back to visit soon. ” He was walking through the door when he heard her thin, reedy voice call out, “Ryan, feed the cat before you go out on your date. He won’t feed himself and you were the one who wanted to get the damn thing.” Ryan grinned, happy that she had recognized him eve n if the memory was from the past. “Yes, ma’am. ” He checked his watch when he reached his jeep and panicked when he saw the time. Even driving faster than the speed limit, he’d be late for work at the call center. He reached the parking lot in record time, but not soon enough to miss the reprimand Bruce gave him before he slid into his cubicle next to Jeannie. Her calls were always entertaining so he listened in on her call before he logged in for the night. “Oh, yeah, baby. I’m feelin’ it now. Your big, hard cock stuffed right on up inside my hot, wet pussy. You fill me up till it hurts you’re so big. I never had such a huge, fucking prick fill my twat in all my life. I’m ridin’ you like a pony now, boy. Giddyup! You big stud.” She rolled her eyes at Ryan and continued buffing her fingernails. “You want me to suck it instead? Okay, no problem. I’d do anything for you, baby. I want to be your sex toy, do everything to please you. You want I should call you Master? All right then, Master, I get down on my knees in front of you and beg you to give me a taste of your meat. But you tell me I’ve been a naughty slave girl and I have to beg harder if I want to suck you off. I’m crying now, baby, telling you I can’t live without it, I need your big, hard, hot joystick in my mouth right now or I’ll die. Then you let me take a taste and it’s soooo good—salty and sweet and mmmmm. I gobble your head right up, suck your whole huge cock into my mouth ‘til it’s halfway down my throat and then I suck and suck and suck…” He grinned, knowing that she could keep up her banter as long as it took to make the customer get off. The longer the call, the more money the business made and consequently, the more money the operator made. Jeannie was an old pro at this. Ryan tried to get comfortable in the ergonomically inferior office chair. He pulled one of his texts from his backpack hoping to get in some study time, which Bruce allowed as long as it didn’t interfere with taking calls. Afternoons were not as busy as late night, but Ryan had been surprised to learn that the calls really did come in at all times of day. Before he could log in to start taking calls, his own cell phone rang. “Hello, Ryan? This is April, the receptionist at Labors of Love. I wondered if you have any time available later this evening. We have an appointment for you. Wilma Addington. She’s 45, lives on Parkview and wants you there at 8 p.m. You can dress casually, as a matter of fact she mentioned a white T-shirt and jeans.” He jotted down the address April gave him. “I have some other requests for you. One on Saturday afternoon, and then again on Sunday evening.” “Oh. ” Ryan looked up and saw Bruce glaring at him from across the room. “I’ll, uh, check my schedule and get back to you. ” He hung up, amazed that he was so in demand. Sometimes he thought he really didn’t understand what women wanted at all. Ryan put on his headset and pushed the flashing button on his phone then lowered

his voice to a seductive purr. “Hello, you’ve reached Ryan. How can I help you? ” He could do this almost without thinking now, verbally fulfill fantasies for both men and women clients over the phone. As he talked, he thought about his other job and wondered what Wilma Addington would be like. He had a hunch she wouldn’t be near as pleasant as Monica had been last night. **** Over the next five days Ryan learned something about himself. He could have sex with any woman whether he found her attractive or not. The oral sex was a no-brainer, all he had to do was tune out any distaste he might feel and do it. The part he had worried about—achieving and maintaining an erection under adverse circumstances—turned out to be no problem. He could get it up and keep it up until the customer was satisfied. Mrs. Addington was a large bodied woman with a full-bodied voice. Her manner was so overbearing and dominant during their meal at a restaurant that he was sure she was going to request him to take some kind of submissive posture during sex later. Instead she surprised him by going girlish, her voice becoming breathy and childish and her kinky request was to be spanked. So he spanked her hard and long until the white globes of her buttocks were bright red. It had to sting and he winced looking at the angry marks his hand had made. But every time he tried to hold back she would demand, “More. Harder. Make it hurt!” It was fucking weird and he didn’t like it, but after the spanking some pretty tame and average sex ensued. He made it through the evening by reminding himself of what excellent pay he was getting for such easy work. Reminding himself that if he couldn’t keep Gram in Rose Arbor, he would have to move her to someplace cheap and a lot less welcoming like Twilight Glen. Ryan had a day and night to himself before his Saturday assignation. He accompanied a woman named Amanda Rice to a friend’s wedding. She was a pale, wispy woman with lightly freckled skin and abundant red hair. She was quite attractive and he wondered why she couldn’t line up a real date. She confided in him that she had just been through a series of aborted relationships, capped by a broken engagement, and simply wanted to have a man on her arm when she went to this particular friend’s wedding. None of her male friends were able to escort her and this was one wedding she didn’t want to attend solo. It was an easy afternoon’s work, the meal at the reception was fantastic and Ryan enjoyed the dancing. At the end of the evening he thought he was actually going to get away without providing additional services, but Amanda invited him up to her apartment for a nightcap and talking led to kissing and then sex. Ryan went home with another mission accomplished. His Monday tryst was less pleasant. The client, who demanded he call her Mistress Yara, was a dominatrix who ate young pups like him for breakfast. She had him dress in some strappy leather fetishwear with a studded dog collar and took him to a private, very exclusive S and M club on a leash. Note to self, he thought as he was ordered to his knees and began to lick her feet. When the special requirements on a client’s profile include the words ‘subservient male,’ give it a miss. After that experience, he began to regret his decision to work for Labors of Love no

matter how good the money. He felt humiliated and used. By Wednesday afternoon he had decided to call and tell Ms. Darrow that the job wasn’t working out for him when he received another call from the receptionist April telling him that Monica Brennerman wanted another date the following weekend. “All right,” he agreed immediately. She was one client he wouldn’t mind seeing again. “Also, she has a special request for this visit,” April continued. “A special scenario. She was quite shy and hesitant to express it.” Ryan’s stomach dropped. What unexpected kinks did sweet, lovable Monica hide? Was there to be more fetishwear in his future? “She would like to act out a rape fantasy. Nothing too violent, just a little safe, harmless play-acting with you in the role of escaped convict or barbarian conqueror— something like that. You are to invade her home at 8:30 p.m. next Friday if that’s acceptable.” Ryan smiled as he agreed. Dominating male sounded like a much better role to play. Get rough, but not too rough? He could do that. **** Friday came fast, which was good, as he’d spent most of the week thinking about his session with Monica. As he walked up the path to Monica’s house, he rehearsed the lines he had made up and practiced brandishing the gun he had bought. When Monica opened the door for him, he was so pleased to see her that he broke character and smiled at her. Then he rearranged his face into a scowl and pushed her back inside the house and up against the foyer wall, his body pinning hers so that she couldn’t move. He pressed the gun against her temple. “Scream and I’ll shoot you, bitch!” he growled into her face. Monica glanced sideways at the gun and began to laugh. “What?” “Ryan, it’s a neon orange water pistol! This is not helping the illusion. ” “Fine.” He jammed the plastic gun in his jacket pocket. “I’ll use my hands to … uh … force you into submission. ” “Better,” she said. He pinned her against the wall with one hand at her shoulder and the other wrapped around her throat. She widened her eyes and continued, “What do you want? Money? Jewels? Take anything. Anything! Just don’t hurt me.” “I don’t want your shit and I don’t need your money. I just want to fuck you. And if you scream I’ll…” He glanced around. “I’ll kill your cat!” Monica’s mouth trembled and a snort of laughter escaped again. “Come on! I’m acting here and you’re ruining my vibe.” “I’m sorry, but you’re really not very good at this.” “Oh yeah? Well … Get on your knees, Bitch! ” he roared and pushed her down to the floor. He unzipped his jeans, pushed down his boxers and whipped out his dick. “Suck it, you little bitch. ” He seized a handful of her hair and pushed her face toward his crotch. An obscene thrill went through him at the sight of her on her knees before him. It gave him a new appreciation for Mistress Yara’s desires.

Monica wrapped her hand around his already hard shaft. She licked at the engorged head tentatively then stretched her lips over it. She sucked him bit by bit until he was completely engulfed in her hot, wet mouth. He was entranced by the sight of her head moving up and down on his cock and the accompanying sucking and releasing sensation. It occurred to him that he should be wearing a condom, but it would ruin the moment and he knew he was clean and assumed she was too. His hands twisted in her dark hair. He thrust his hips toward her in rhythm with her sucking, struggling to hold himself in check when what he wanted to do was fuck her mouth hard. Monica’s hand encircled his dick, moving up and down with good, hard pressure while her other hand hooked around his hip holding him steady. Her hand on his hip moved to grasp a handful of his ass and squeezed. Ryan groaned and his eyes closed for a moment as he enjoyed the sensations of her hot mouth surrounding him, her warm, soft hair under his hand and her vicious fingernails digging into his butt cheek. He was thrusting harder and faster, if he didn’t watch it he’d be coming in her throat in a moment. He slowed his pushing, closed his eyes for a moment and fought his desire under control. “Get up.” His voice was so hoarse it sounded strange to his ears. He tugged at Monica’s hair lightly, pulling her head away from his crotch. He glanced around the room as she rose to her feet and quickly decided what he wanted to do next. “Take your clothes off.” Ryan stood there fully clothed except for his dick sticking out of the open fly of his pants and watched avidly as she divested herself of her top, bra, jeans and underpants. She stood before him naked and shivering a little, either from chill or anticipation, he didn’t know. His arousal raged as he beheld her petite frame with teacup breasts, narrow waist, wide hips, dark pubic thatch and slender legs. Her slightness made her look younger than twenty-seven, the age given in her profile. Her delicate demeanor made him want to attack her like the savage rapist he was supposed to be portraying. The primal need to possess coursed through him. Monica looked at him expectantly as she wiped saliva from her chin with one hand. Ryan fought the urge to step forward and kiss her red lips. “Over here.” he said roughly, grabbing her arm. He maneuvered her to behind the couch then, putting his palm between her shoulder blades, pushed her over the back of the couch. Her arms and head rested on the couch cushion and her ass was up in the air with her toes barely touching the floor. She looked eminently fuckable in that position, helpless, vulnerable and very submissive. The crack between her cheeks was open to reveal the little puckered rosebud of her anus, and below that the mysterious dark shadows and folds of labia surrounding her pussy. A fresh jolt of lust enflamed his already rigid cock at the sight and he reached down and spread her legs farther apart for an even better view. He ran a hand up between her legs, dipped his fingers inside her and found her incredibly wet for him already. She shuddered from the contact and let out a sensual moan. He withdrew his fingers, brought them to his mouth and tasted her. He wanted to fall

to his knees, press his face in between her white thighs and start feasting, but he reminded himself of his role. It didn’t seem very “method” for a rapist to start pleasuring his victim. Ryan stripped off his clothes and sheathed his cock in a condom. He looked with satisfaction at Monica, obediently maintaining the position he had placed her in. Her legs were quivering from the strain of keeping on her toes and spread apart. He hoped they were also quivering in anticipation of what he might do next. Instead of driving himself into her pussy right to the hilt in one hard push as he halfdesired, he decided to try something unexpected. He inserted his fingers inside her sex, coating them in her juices. He painted them back along her crack to her anus and tickled it open until the tight sphincter would accept one wet finger and then two. Monica gasped and started to pull away. “Just relax, ” he murmured low. “Relax and they’ll go right in. ” She quieted and he worked his fingers into the incredible tightness as his dick, impossibly, grew even harder. He was able to work three fingers in now and pump them carefully in and out. He snaked his other hand around her hips to begin manipulating her clit. Monica’s moaned against the couch cushions. A shiver ran through her whole body. Ryan continued to finger fuck her ass, watching with fascination as it stretched to accommodate his thrusting fingers, but he knew that without more lubricant he wasn’t going to be able to do the same thing to her with his cock like he wanted. It would be too dry and painful for her. He abandoned his hand fucking and his ministrations to her clit and leaned over Monica’s back, his weight pressing her even deeper into the couch. He whispered in her ear almost conversationally. “I’m going to fuck you now, bitch, but first I want to hear you beg for it.” When she didn’t respond immediately, he grabbed the back of her neck in one hand and squeezed lightly. “Say it! Say, ‘please fuck me.’” “Please.” Her voice was muffled into the cushion. Monica turned her head and said it again, low. “Please. Please … fuck me.” He squeezed her neck a little harder. “Louder. Give me more. Tell me how much you want me inside you. ” “Please, fuck me. Please.” Her voice was hoarse. “I need to have you inside me right now. God, I need your big, hard cock pumping into me,” she improvised. “Please give it to me. Give it to me right now. ” He drove inside her with force enough to lift her feet completely off the floor and slam her into the couch. He showed her none of the tenderness or finesse he had displayed their first night together, but took her with brute force as requested, pumping hard into her hot slit. “You like it rough, huh? ” he gritted. “You like it like this, slut?” “Ohhhhh! ” Monica howled. At the sound Ryan felt another rush of burning lust. For a brief moment he lost himself. He wanted to hurt her, to ram her so hard she cried for real, and the intensity of this primal urge frightened him. A deep-throated, guttural cry burst from him as he drove into her again and again with increasing speed and intensity. He hoisted her hips up higher so he could drive in

even deeper, her legs splayed out on either side of him, and his dick hit something unyielding deep inside her. Monica screamed sharply. Immediately he backed off a fraction, but just a fraction. He continued pumping into her hard and fast until he felt his balls drawing tight and the gathering inside his cock that signaled an imminent release. He let out a final cry and came. Her muscles clenched around him as she came with a primitive yowl. Her cry of passion was so loud Ryan wondered if the neighbors might think she was being assaulted for real and call the police. His legs shook and Ryan collapsed on Monica’s back, panting. Their skin fused together with sweat and he relished the feel of her heaving body trapped beneath him. His weight pressed her down into the couch. It had to be uncomfortable, but she didn’t complain. Maybe she was too busy gasping for air. Ryan’s head rested in the middle of her back and he could hear her heart pounding under his ear, her breath drawing in and out. Suddenly something landed on the couch right next to Monica’s head and Ryan found himself face to face with Amber’s harlequin face sniffing at them curiously. “Mrrrow?” she inquired patting at Monica’s sweaty tangle of hair. They both laughed at the concerned feline. Ryan kissed Monica’s back then hauled his weight off of her and helped her stand. “Are you all right? I wasn’t too rough? ” She shook her head. He grinned ruefully, “That was crazy. I’ve never felt anything so…” “…intense,” she finished. “I know. ” He gathered her in his arms and pulled her against his chest, rocking her in his embrace for a few moments. “Want to take a shower?” “Definitely. ” He followed her to the bathroom where she turned on the shower. They both stepped under the stinging hot spray, letting it rinse away the sweat and sex from their bodies. Monica applied gel to a puff and began soaping her body, but Ryan took it away from her and completed the task. He loved the way her little breasts looked jutting out through the soapsuds like small islands, her dark nipples tiny mountains. He rinsed off the lather and took first one then the other in his mouth, working his tongue over them as the water beat down on his head. He sucked hard until Monica gasped with pleasure. “Now you, ” she said, picking up the purple puff from the bottom of the tub where he had dropped it. She squeezed another dollop of body shampoo onto it and lathered Ryan’s back, chest, arms and legs. His eyes closed and he enjoyed the feeling of the soft, scratchy puff gliding over him. He rotated to give her access to every part of his body and froze in place when she started cleaning his penis. Her hand glided up and down his cock. He gazed down, loving the way it looked then he glanced up into Monica’s eyes. She smiled and his stomach flipped. “Wanna get dirty again?” she asked. “Thought you’d never ask.” He dragged her to him, under the hot, steady beat of the water and kissed her deeply.

She stood on tiptoe, pressing the length of her body against him as she put her arms around his neck. Their slick skin glided together and Monica moaned softly into his mouth. The soft sound sent another wave of that primal urge to possess rushing through him. He lifted her up, pressing her against the cold, glass shower door. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He pumped against her stomach, his dick gliding over her clit with each stroke. The water beat on his back and Monica pressed against his front, sleek as a seal. Her lips covered his and her tongue plunged into his mouth. They kissed fiercely for several long moments as he ground against her with increasing need. The shower door rattled with each thrust. Then Monica pulled back and said breathlessly, “Maybe we should continue this in the bedroom. ” Ryan turned off the water and, wrapped in towels, they made a dash for the bedroom. Monica dove onto the bed. Ryan discarded his towel then jumped on the bed with her, making it shake. He tore away her bath towel and tossed it to the floor then dove in to kiss her throat, making her shriek with laughter and squirm beneath him. “Stop! Tickles!” she choked. He growled and moved from her throat down to her breasts, nibbling them and drawing the nipples out then letting them go with a pop. He held her arms pinned on either side of her head. She struggled against him until he finally let her get away and take the upper hand. Still laughing, she rolled him onto his back and straddled him, leaning over him and holding his wrists. Her hair was a wet curtain dripping water down onto his chest. Ryan gathered handfuls of it and pushed it back, cradling her face and pulling her down to him for more kisses. She moved on top of him, rocking gently against his erection and he was amazed at how much he wanted her again already, as if they hadn’t just had that intense faux-rape sex in the living room. He kissed her deeply once then pulled away to whisper, “Fuck! Condoms again. They’re in my jeans. Just a minute.” In the living room, he gathered up his clothes, taking another condom out of his pants. As he ripped open the packet and sheathed himself, he vowed that this time would be slow, no matter how much he wanted her. He needed to make it last in case this was the last time he got to be with her. Returning to the bedroom, he crawled onto the bed and lay beside Monica once more. She looked up at him with glowing, dark eyes that signaled her desire. He stroked her still damp face with his hand, tracing her lips with his thumb. He leaned down to follow the pattern his thumb had made with his tongue. Her lips parted immediately at his touch. He lingered inside her mouth, the strokes of his tongue matching the leisurely strokes of his cock. He didn’t thrust, simply rocked on top of her building up a slow burn of heat, nothing like the frantic urgency of before but still undeniable. “Need me to go down on you?” he murmured, suddenly remembering that the sex was supposed to be for her pleasure and he must ensure her orgasm, not his own.

“No. This is nice. Keep going.” He continued to move in her with gentle, insistent pressure, barely withdrawing from her on each stroke. The rhythm was almost hypnotic and he stared down into her eyes, challenging her not to blink. Ryan felt a surrealistic sense of suspended time in the dim, quiet room. It seemed possible to draw this moment out foreve r if he desired. Monica arched up beneath him slightly and pulled his hips to her tightly. “A little harder now. ” Ryan obliged, pulling almost completely out of her on the next stroke and then sinking back into her delicious warmth slowly and deeply. Again and again he repeated the move, slipping in and out of her slick channel. His control, too, began to slip as he moved faster and faster. Monica encouraged him, rising to meet each thrust. He felt a mounting tension gripping his balls and coursing through his cock and then suddenly, a euphoric burst of fireworks as he came. He groaned loudly and pulsed inside her. Monica wrapped her arms around him and held him close. He let his weigh rest on top of her as he recovered, turning his face into her neck to breathe her scent. Her hair smelled like shampoo and her skin like soap underlain by a fragrance all her own. Ryan felt a rush of warmth steel over his heart. He was grateful for having found her, held her and lain with her, if only for a while. He wished it could be longer. He wished he could have more. * Monica held Ryan tight as he burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. She smiled smugly, happy that she was able to give him so much pleasure. She wondered if he enjoyed sex with all of his clients, or if this really had been something special tonight. It had certainly felt special to her. Since he had admitted that he was just starting out, she wondered if he had been with other clients besides her yet. The idea of him fucking other women was upsetting and at the same time vaguely erotic. Ryan rolled off of her onto his back, blowing a long breath. Monica snuggled up to his side with her head resting on his chest and her hand lazily toying with his nipple. Silence pervaded the room for several long minutes. “Can I ask you something? ” Ryan ran his hand lightly up and down her side. She shivered at the feel of his palm running over her skin. “Your condition, the agoraphobia, how did it start and how long have you been … in your house?” Monica thought a moment. Normally she didn’t like to discuss her condition, but Ryan’s ease in asking made her feel comfortable telling him. “Since I was about thirteen I had anxiety attacks. I couldn’t stay at a sleepover, for instance, without losing it and having to go home. It took a while to have the episodes diagnosed as more than childish fears, to understand that the attacks were an actual medical condition. ” She shifted, finding a more comfortable position for her head on Ryan’s hard chest. She hated remembering that period when her dad, at least, had been convinced that the panic attacks were “all in her head.” “New or stressful situations are always hard for me, but I attended college, living at

home and keeping to a routine. The attacks came less often as I got older, and by junior year I was able to move to an apartment with a couple of other girls. I even held a job with no problem at all.” She sat up, resting her head on her hand and looked at Ryan. “Do you really want to hear all this?” “Yes. Go on, ” he encouraged, tucking a curl back behind her ear. She sighed and continued. “After college I started my first job at a publishing house as a personal assistant to the managing editor. There was a lot of pressure, a lot of detail work and no writing. It wasn’t what I had wanted or planned to do but I figured, hey, stepping stone. “Then I got involved with Carl. Biggest jerk in the world. By the time I’d figured that out, he’d torn my heart out, shredded it and tossed it. By then I was a wreck and the panic attacks were back full blown. ” She lay back down so she wouldn’t have to see any pity in Ryan’s eyes. She rested her head on the other pillow and stared at his tattoo, tracing it repetitively as she finished her story. “I went to a therapist recommended by my doctor and made some progress on controlling the symptoms, but at the same time I stayed in more and more. My grandmother left me this house and a small trust. I had a place to retreat to and freelance work I could do at home.” She shrugged. “Pretty soon I wasn’t going anywhere at all.” There was a long silence. Monica couldn’t believe she had spilled her life story like that. “Go ahead, say it,” she said, “Weird! I know. ” “No, that’s not what I was thinking, ” Ryan said, rolling on his side to face her and putting his hand beneath her chin to force her face up to his. “I was thinking that for someone who doesn’t deal well with strange situations you’ve been very—resilient during our encounters. You don’t seem uncomfortable to me.” “Because you don’t make me nervous, I guess.” She could have explained more, told him that being in her own environment was the key. She felt in control here and was better able to keep her anxieties in check. But the fact was, if she had chosen another man things might have gone quite differently. She might never have had the courage to let him in the door. Almost from the start Ryan had felt comfortable, like an old friend. A friend with killer muscles, a dazzling smile and sexy eyes, lips and hair, but still a friend. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment, but it doesn’t say much for my acting skills does it? You were supposed to be scared of me when I attacked you. ” Monica grinned. “Sorry. You just don’t seem that dangerous.” “Oh, I can be very dangerous.” He started tickling up and down her side with his fingers. Monica squealed and squirmed away to the far side of the bed. He was up and on her with both hands seeking out her most ticklish spots before she could blink. He attacked her until tears of laughter were running from her eyes and she was gasping for breath and crying for him to stop. “You are not getting a recommendation from me after this!” she said sternly. “Mm.” He hauled her into his arms and held her close while he nuzzled her neck. When she was sure he wasn’t going to start tickling again, Monica relaxed against him and enjoyed the cuddling. In many ways this was her favorite part, the part that could

never go on long enough. After a few moments she could tell by his even breathing that he had dozed off. The feel of his breath blowing against her neck, his arm resting heavily across her body was comforting and warm. She wanted to remember this night always, every bit, from the exciting role playing to the friendly bathing to the exquisite lovemaking and now this warm aftermath. Monica knew she couldn’t afford to have Ryan a third time. Or maybe she could have him… If she stopped ordering takeout all the time and cooked her meals from scratch. The re-roofing of her house which she had planned for next summer could be pushed back. Surely the old roof could last one more year. It wasn’t like she needed new clothes since she never went anywhere. There were a lot of corners she could cut if she thought about it. And there were many more articles she could write. She tilted her head sideways and looked at his sleeping face, the long eyelashes resting against his cheeks and his beautiful mouth slightly parted. Oh God yes, he was definitely worth it. She would find a way.

Chapter Five “So, Monica, sweetheart, what are you going to wear to Barb’s wedding? You should have something new. ” Her mom poured leaned against the kitchen counter and blew across her hot cup of tea. She looked at Monica with raised brows. Monica wiped the already clean counter vigorously. “Mom, I told yo u I’m not sure I’ll be able to go, but if I do I’ll wear my blue dress. It’s formal enough. ” “The blue sheath with the spaghetti straps, asymmetrical hemline, and beading on the bodice? That’s a little dated, honey. ” “Yes, Mom. You know that’s the only one I have that’s at all dressy. But anyway, as I said, I’m not sure I’m ready to take that step.” “Darling, have you been taking the baby steps we talked about? Out in the yard, up the sidewalk, a visit home for Sunday dinner with me and your father and before you know it you’ll be ready for the wedding. It’s only our relatives, after all. Nothing stressful there. Just some dancing, eating and celebrating. Honey, you have to give it a try. Barb so wants to see you. ” Her mom set her cup on the counter and turned to face Monica. “That would be an excellent trial run. Your Aunt Helen is throwing a wedding shower for Barb. I’m sure you got an invitation. ” “I did and the present is wrapped and ready for you to take for me.” Monica’s mom shook her head. “No. I will not. Now I don’t want to seem callous, but really, dear, I think we’ve been patient with your debility long enough. You need to get out. Your sister and I will be with you every step of the way and you don’t have to do more than make an appearance and you can go right back home, but you must…” “Mom, enough! Look, I am making progress. I go out in the backyard every day now. Even put up a birdfeeder again and it’s been … okay. The first couple of times I had some trouble, but I’m okay now. I’m taking those baby steps, Ma, so please stop pushing.” “Really? Oh, sweetie, that’s wonderful news. And I…” She made a zipping motion across her lips. “…won’t say another word about the shower or the wedding or the Hawaii trip, which by the way we bought the tickets for because Barb said the great deal was for a limited time only and we didn’t want to miss out in case, you know, you changed your mind, so… Keeping my mouth shut about all of it from now on. ” “Thank you, ” Monica said dryly. She ushered her mom to the door. “But can I say one thing? Just one? I think the fresh air you’ve been getting is exactly what you’ve needed because, sweetie, you are glowing today, absolutely glowing!” Monica blushed. “Goodbye, Mom. ” She gave her a kiss and hug goodbye and then closed the door firmly behind her. She put a hand to her cheek. Glowing? Really? It was silly but she had to see what had prompted her mother’s comment. Monica went to the bathroom and peered at her face in the mirror. Well, she didn’t know about “glowing, ” but a happy smile was trembling behind her eyes and broke through to settle on her mouth unbidden. She must have been grinning like a dope half the time she was visiting with her mom.

Excitement flooded her anew as she considered that tonight, after ten long days, Ryan was coming to see her again. Monica returned to the kitchen, rinsed her mother’s tea cup and set it in the sink then leaned against the counter to stare out the window at her back yard. She thought about how she had reached the point of asking for him once more. Before he left Ryan had given her his personal cell phone number, telling her it would be easier for them to connect directly. He’d told her to call him any time. She had studied the small slip of paper with his number countless times, but resisted the urge to call. Instead, she’d held Ryan up as a sort of dangling carrot for herself. If she could get through five assignments then she would allow herself to call him again. At the end two weeks she would have “earned” him. That was the plan, but by Friday she couldn’t stand it any more and dialed his number. “Hey, I was beginning to wonder if I’d hear from you. ” Ryan’s voice was warm and welcoming. She couldn’t help but wonder if other clients had this number and how eager he managed to sound for each one of them. It was hard to remember that this was his job sometimes. “I’ve been really busy with work this week and I thought I earned a treat.” She had actually rehearsed that line, embarrassingly enough, practiced giving it a flip, easy, flirtatio us sound as if she hadn’t been dreaming of this moment. “I would love to treat you. ” His voice lowered seductively. Monica felt the hair on her arms and at the base of her scalp stand on end. “When? ” ‘Right now!’ she wanted to cry, but instead answered, “Oh, anytime this weekend if you have a night free.” “Shit. I really don’t. What about early next week? Is a weeknight okay … maybe Tuesday, but a little later than last time? I have a class in the early evening. ” Any day. Any time you say. “That would work out for me,” she said. “Good, then I’ll see you on Tuesday. ” There was a pause but he didn’t hang up and neither did she. “To tide you over until then do you want to … I mean, the call’s free if you wanted to … talk for a while.” It took a moment for all the cylinders to click and then Monica realized he was offering phone sex. Monica felt her panties grow damp, or more precisely, more damp since her pussy had been responding to his voice ever since he answered the phone. “Um, sure,” she finally managed to say. “What class do you have on Tuesday? What are you studying for?” “Tuesday is an English lit class. I’m still working my way through my gen. eds. At this rate I’m going to be taking classes the rest of my life.” “What is it you want to be?” “I’d like to be an architect, but I don’t see me getting through the undergrad work at this point let alone getting a master’s degree. At least not for a long time.” That comment made Monica feel like a callous bitch. She had been so concerned about her wants and needs, how long it had been since she’d gotten laid, how good Ryan made her feel, how much she wanted him in her bed again. In her mind he had been some kind of sex machine there to provide her with what she so desperately needed. She had

barely given a thought to why he was prostituting himself, what had driven him to that financial need. In fact, she had kind of assumed that he did it because he wanted to. What the fuck had she been thinking? “What’s the matter?” he asked. She realized she had been quiet too long. “Oh, uh, nothing. I was just thinking back to when I was in college. I’d forgotten how tough it was to juggle everything. ” She laughed. “And I was still living at home most of the time so I didn’t have to worry about paying rent, cooking meals even doing my own laundry. My mom’s kind of a ‘50s stereotype. She does everything for you if you let her and what eighteen-year-old is going to volunteer to do laundry or clean the house when she doesn’t have to? But you … it sounds like you have so much to deal with on your own. Can I ask… How old are you?” “Twenty-two, and still plugging away at sophomore year stuff. It’s embarrassing. ” Twenty-two was younger than twenty-seven, but not so very much. Monica felt marginally better. “But I didn’t mean we should talk about me,” Ryan continued lightly. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘What color are your panties?’ or ‘Are you wearing panties? Take them off.’” Monica laughed. “It so happens I am wearing panties and they are plain cotton and white. No lace, no satin, no thong. Sorry. ” “I can work with white. It’s so … virginal. ” Ryan’s voice dropped to a husky tone. “Have you ever touched yourself down there while a man was listening? Slip your hand down under the elastic of that plain white underwear and dip a finger into your pussy. Is it wet?” “Yes.” Monica was already breathless as she obeyed his commands and indeed, her crotch was very wet. “Two fingers in now. Deep inside yourself. How does it feel?” “Hot. Wet. Um, fleshy. ” “Now pull those fingers out … slowly. Rub them over your clit and let me hear how that feels.” Monica complied and a soft moan escaped from her throat. This was infinitely hotter than when she did it alone. “Good. That sounds so good. I want you to bring those fingers up to your face now. Smell yourself on them and then put them in your mouth and lick them clean. Taste yourself. Find out how good you taste to me. You’re hesitating. I can hear you thinking too hard. Just do it.” Monica wasn’t a fan of her own fluids. This was different, though, following Ryan’s orders. It felt decadent and erotic. She did as he bid, wrinkling her nose a little at the flavor. If that tasted good to him, his taste buds were off. “I did it,” she said softly to signal him on. “Okay. Now I want you to reach under your shirt and touch your breasts. Stroke them lightly until your nipples peak. Feel how hard they are? Pinch them. Twist them a little.” She did and gasped sharply at the pain mixed in with the pleasure. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Imagine it’s my teeth biting you there. Pinch harder. Now put one hand back down to your crotch and touch your clit again.” His voice was hypnotic. Monica felt like she was in a trance as she continued to

obey. One hand was clutching her breast and toying with her nipple, the other was manipulating her clit. Her eyes were closed and she concentrated on his voice trying to complete the illusion that the hands on her body were his. “Don’t rub it yet. Just touch it lightly. I want you to—Shit! Monica, I’m at my other job and my supervisor just came in. I have to go. See you on Tuesday at 10:00.” Silence reigned in Monica’s ear. She longed for the old days of a click and a dial tone. She felt momentarily disoriented. He was there in her ear, in her head, controlling her with his voice and then he was gone. Supervisor? Other job? Did this boy ever get time to sleep? She considered finishing the job he’d started, but masturbating was not what she wanted right now. She wanted Ryan and she’d rather save up her desires for Tuesday night. Monica shivered at the memory of that intensely erotic phone conversation. Her eyes focused once more on her back yard and she realized that minutes had passed while she stood there reliving the phone call. Her crotch ached and her panties were damp again. Not much longer now. So here it was, Tuesday, and she was evidently ‘glowing’ in eager anticipation of what new delights the night would bring. Monica knew she was getting far too attached to someone so impermanent, but she was too far gone to care. For this moment, at least, she was excited and happy. If there were disappointment and loneliness later she would worry about it then. **** “So what’s up with you lately?” Tim asked Ryan as they sat at their favorite sports bar watching basketball and sipping beer. “You seem even more stressed out than normal and you’ve always been wound tight.” Ryan hadn’t told Tim about his job at Labors of Love. Only Jeannie knew and she could keep her mouth shut. He shrugged. “Exams, work, money trouble, my grandma, the usual.” “It’s the phone sex job, isn’t it? It’s freaking you out. I knew it was a bad idea for you.” “What are you talking about? You’re the one who pushed me into it.” “Whatever, it’s still a bad idea. You’re too nice for that kind of shit. I should have known better.” Tim tossed a handful of peanuts into his mouth and crunched them down. Ryan smirked. You have no idea how not nice I’ve become. During the past week he had had three more assignments, and the sex work was getting to him, especially since the one woman he wanted to hear from wouldn’t call. She’d finally called on Friday and tonight he was going to see her again. This should have made him happy, but instead he felt weird and guilty and ashamed. He was doing this one on his own, not through the agency, which is why he had given her his personal number. He didn’t want her charged for something he wanted to do and she couldn’t afford. He didn’t want their arrangement to be strictly business any more. But he was too afraid of her reaction to tell her that, so he was letting her believe this was simply another assignment. Monica had obviously wanted a no-strings-attached relationship, or she wouldn’t have contacted an escort service. It was totally unprofessional of him to be

having these feelings for her. Ryan made a comment about the game to distract Tim from asking any more personal questions and he swigged deeply from his bottle of beer. One good thing about today, other than the fact the he would get to be with Monica later, was that he had called Labors of Love and given his resignation to Mrs. Darrow. Oddly, she hadn’t seemed surprised. Maybe she thought he was too nice too. But he didn’t feel nice anymore. He felt tainted by the weird shit he’d done over the past couple of weeks. On top of all that, he was worried about Gram, who had a respiratory infection, which was being treated, but the doctors said could still cross the line to become pneumonia. He knew the Rose Arbor staff was professional and caring, but it bothered him that someone else was taking care of her while he could barely make the time to go over and see her every other week or so. “Hey, thanks for covering my shift tonight,” Ryan said to Tim, clapping him on the shoulder as he got up from the barstool to leave. “I owe you. ” “No problem. I got nothing better to do on a Tuesday night than talk dirty to people. But, wait a minute, what are you up to tonight? I don’t believe your ‘studying’ story. First of all because you told me your exams are over and second, because this is not the face of a guy who plans to hit the books all evening. You’re meeting a chick! Who is she? Where’d you meet her? She’s one of those little co-ed hotties, right?” “No.” Ryan knew he’d made a mistake the moment it came out of his mouth. “Ah-hah, I knew it. You are seeing someone! Please God, don’t tell me she’s some woman you hooked up with on one of your work calls. That is so unprofessional, man, plus the fact that you have no idea what they really look like. Don’t go there. I’m telling you.” “You sound like you’ve tried it,” Ryan teased. “Just the once and believe me it was scary. So, who’s the girl? ” “She’s a … friend, an old friend from high school. ” He was getting amazingly good at thinking up lies on short notice. “Well, all right!” Tim’s tone was congratulatory. “’Bout time. I never knew a guy your age who partied less and worked more. You get yourself laid tonight, buddy. You could use it.” “Okay. I’ll be sure and take care of that,” Ryan said dryly. But as he left the bar and drove toward Monica’s house, he thought that getting laid—at least by Monica—was exactly what he needed tonight. **** Monica heard Ryan’s noisy Jeep pull up in front of her house and her heart fluttered wildly. After a ten-day absence it felt like their first date all over again. She was ridiculously nervous and she knew why, it was because she was looking at this like it was a real date instead of a business transaction. God, she had to stop doing that! “Don’t let me get stupid, kitty, ” she said to Amber, scratching the cat behind the ears and then pushing her off of her lap. “Ryan’s nice. We get along fine and the sex is fantastic, but no matter how sweet he is to me, it’s only business. I have to remember that. I have to keep it light.” She brushed white cat hair off of her black pants. “Got that? If you see me starting to swoon, you dig your claws into my ankle and ground me in reality. ”

Amber was already strolling for the front door even though the bell hadn’t rung yet. Her sensitive hearing had identified a foreign presence approaching. Monica answered the door with a shy smile. She was struck anew by how absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous Ryan was. He wore a plain black T-shirt and faded blue jeans. Without a jacket over the shirt, his muscled arms were on display. Looking at his sculpted biceps, triceps and whatever other ‘ceps were in the human arm, Monica flashed back to how strong they had felt when they lifted her up and carried her, or when they’d hauled her ass up in the air so he could take her from behind. Oh yes, those were good arms to have. She dragged her eyes away from his arms long enough to realize that he was extending a bouquet of flowers to her and her heart melted. It was a combination of daisies, tulips and daffodils, perfect for a spring night. “Oh, thank you!” she cooed as she took them. She broadcast a mental message to Amber, twining around her ankles. This is swooning, you idiot. Do something! “Come in,” she urged, gesturing Ryan through the door. “What’s on the agenda?” he asked, sauntering into her home as naturally as if he lived there. “Hey, Amber.” He stooped and petted the cat, which arched up into his hand like she was his best buddy. Monica watched avidly. Pet me! “I hope you’re hungry, ” she said. “Always.” “Good, ‘cause we’re having a picnic.” She led the way toward the kitchen. “A bed picnic?” He snaked his arms around her from behind and pulled her up against him. He burrowed his face into the side of her neck, licked then bit it. She twisted her head away from his tickling mouth, but didn’t try to escape his arms. “No. A real outdoor picnic in my backyard.” “Outside? Didn’t you say that you don’t…?” “Lately I have been. I’m “reclaiming my life” as Dr. Brewster calls it, an area at a time starting with my backyard,” she explained. She pulled a vase down from above the fridge and arranged her flowers. She handed him the wine bottle and glasses and she carried the hamper of food. He followed her out the back door to the beautiful bower she had created out of her tiny yard. She had spent the afternoon hanging white Christmas lights on the hedge and the small plum tree. It was early for very much bloom, but the crocuses, daffodils and hyacinths were starting to open in the bed near the house. The hyacinths emitted a strong, sweet perfume that scented the air. Monica had resurrected the wood frame arbor that had blown down in the wind over a year ago. It was a little tipsy, but still sturdy enough to stand and she had wrapped it too in lights. She had cleaned grime and bird droppings off the hexagonal picnic table and although warped, it was almost as good as new. It was now covered with a red and white checked tablecloth. A decorative oil lamp at the center of the table helped illuminate the dark night. It was almost too chilly for a picnic, yet she was comfortable enough with a light jacket. Her yard was sheltered with a privacy fence all around, cutting whatever breeze might blow through.

“Are you going to be okay in only a T-shirt?” she asked Ryan, who was pouring wine into the glasses. “No problem. I’m very hot-blooded,” he told her with a cocky grin. “Or hadn’t you noticed?” “Please stop. Seriously, ” Monica shot back. “Smarmy doesn’t become you. ” She unloaded sandwiches, deli salads, fruit and cookies from her basket and set up service for two on the table. She waved one of the napkins at Ryan. “Cloth, not paper. You rate.” Monica was gratified to see Ryan load up his plate with a ham and cheese sandwich and big servings of the various salads. He dug into the food with gusto, and Monica, who wasn’t really very hungry, enjoyed watching his unselfconscious pleasure in eating. “Good,” he said between bites of potato salad. “Homemade?” “Not my home and only if you consider a deli somebody’s home. Before you ask, I didn’t make the cookies either but I did assemble the sandwiches. Two slices of ham to one slice of cheese, generous portion of mayo.” She leaned forward. “That’s my secret recipe,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Thanks.” He accepted the sandwich and bit a great hunk out of it. Monica was momentarily distracted watching his jaw work on chewing. God, his jaw was sexy. She blinked. “Uh, you’re welcome.” He swallowed the large bite then glanced at her sheepishly. “Sorry, guess I was hungry. ” “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She smiled. Ryan set the sandwich down on his plate. “So, what have you written this week?” “Nothing you’re likely to read unless you subscribe to Today’s Homemakers or Whole Body Fitness Magazine.” She quickly outlined the articles she had written then explained how the freelance process worked. Querying a publisher, being given the goahead on an assignment and then meeting a deadline. In exchange he told her about an incident in one of his classes involving a petty tyrant of a T.A. and how the class had revolted. “I wouldn’t mind paying so much for courses if we’d at least be taught by the professors whose salaries our tuition are supposed to be paying. I think I’ve had more classes run by assistants than professors.” As they worked their way through the bottle of wine, they discussed current events and discovered mutual likes and dislikes in food, music and movies. “Well, I suppose we could go inside,” Monica said finally. “It’s getting a little cold.” “Or we could bring a couple of blankets out here and I could make love to you under the stars.” Ryan looked up. “Or clouds as the case may be.” Monica’s mind raced through the prospect, naked, outdoors, under the sky. Last week it would have been unthinkable but now, after spending time in her garden every day and with Ryan beside her tonight, the anxiety was completely at bay. She thought it would be lovely to try it. “I’ll get some old quilts.” They walked back toward the house with the remains of the picnic in hand, and passed through the tilting arbor. Ryan stopped to shake it lightly with one hand. “I can fix this for you if you like. I could probably do it quickly right now if there were enough light, but I can come back another day. ” “Really? That would be…” Monica hesitated wondering if he would expect to be paid for his efforts. Not that she couldn’t afford the repair. Hell, what was a little more

money when she had shelled out so much already? But it had almost sounded like he wanted to do it for a favor, as a friend or something. Whichever he meant, she wanted him back again and would use any excuse to have him come around. “That would be great.” She dug up some stained old quilts that had been among her grandmother’s possessions. They were really too tatty to use around the house, but couldn’t be thrown away because Grandma had made the m. She returned to Ryan with the quilts and he helped her spread the thicker one over the cold ground. They both kicked off their shoes then huddled together under the top quilt trying to get warm. Wrapped in Ryan’s arms, pressed against the length of his body radiating heat like a woodstove, Monica soon lost her chill. The ground was hard and not too comfortable but the scent of flowers and fresh soil wafting through the air more than made up for it. “I used to go camping with my friend Steve’s family,” Ryan said, brushing her hair away from his mouth and smoothing it back on her head. “Every summer. It was like my family vacation only, you know, with somebody else’s family. It was fun though. ” He laughed. “Especially the summer when Steve’s sister, Melanie, suddenly grew tits. She and I used to sneak out behind the garbage dump in the campground—a surprisingly romantic spot—and make out for hours. Of course, once we were back home again she ignored me like before. There were real boys her own age to pay attention to her, and I was back to being her kid brother Steve’s annoying friend again.” “What did your friend Steve think about it?” “I never told, and he always wondered where I kept disappearing to on that camping trip.” “I went camping once,” Monica offered. “It rained and rained, took a break to drizzle and then rained some more. We sat in the tent and shivered until finally my mom declared she had had enough, and forced my dad to wrestle down the tent in a thunderstorm. It wouldn’t fit back into the bag and Lisa and I rode home with yards of dripping wet, nylon squished between us.” “So no campfires? No S’mores? Then you haven’t really camped. I’ll take you some time.” There was an abrupt silence following Ryan’s words. Monica thought about the improbability of that happening and quickly changed the subject. “Did your dancing grandmother ever take you on any vacations?” “Sure. The beach, same cottage every summer. Gram loved the ocean. ” “How is she doing?” “Not too good this week. She has a respiratory infection. She’s living at a really nice facility, but it’s about forty minutes from my apartment and I can’t get over there as much as I should.” “I’m sorry. ” He shrugged. “It sucks getting old and sick. But it sucks even worse watching a person who was so sharp and opinionated and strong deteriorating into a stranger right in front of you. ” Monica turned toward Ryan, wrapped her arm around him and squeezed. “Really sorry. I couldn’t imagine if that happened to my mom or dad.” “And I’m sorry I’m depressing the hell out of you. This is supposed to be fun. ” He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up for a long, wet kiss then pulled away to

ask, “Are you warm enough to get naked under here yet?” “I think so.” She moved her hand up under his T-shirt, feeling the hard ridge of his spine and the swathes of muscle banding his back. She loved his soft, smooth skin over hard muscle and bone. He was like that everywhere, every part of him that combination of steel wrapped in velvet. In moments their clothes were shucked off and laid aside. Monica shivered more at the novelty of being naked outdoors than because she was cold. They were actually wellcovered by Grandma’s flowered quilt. And didn’t using that feel sinful? Ryan pulled Monica on top of him. She straddled his pelvis, his hands resting on her hips, and looked down at him. His pale eyes reflected the Christmas lights she had strung around the garden. He had beautiful, blue, glittering eyes. They regarded her so intensely she could almost pretend that he loved her. She had to repeat her mantra—sweet guy, good sex, getting paid, lock away heart. Monica perched on top of him and the quilt slid away from her shoulders, leaving her skin naked to the errant breeze. Her nipples tightened against the chill into hard knots. Her aureoles puckered around them and every bit of exposed skin felt like it was covered with gooseflesh. She felt wanton and naughty being naked under the night sky and from Ryan’s expression she looked that way too. His eyes were trained on her breasts. She decided to play the part of the porn princess. She stretched her arms out negligently then laced them at the back of her head, thrusting her chest forward, twisting her waist slightly and pouting her lips in traditional pinup girl fashion. Ryan’s hands moved from her hips up her sides, leaving trails of fire on her cold skin. He couldn’t quite reach her breasts. She kept them just above his reach. “Come down here,” he begged. She relented and slowly leaned down to let him fondle her tits. His hands felt impossibly warm against her. She leaned farther and pressed her lips to his. He opened his mouth beneath hers and his hands slid around her back and pulled her even closer to his chest. She tasted the sweetness of the wine overlaying a trace of salty ham sandwich and beneath that, simply him. His tongue warmed her mouth and his body warmed the rest of her. He reached down and drew the quilt up over her back, cocooning them in its warmth. Monica moved her body over Ryan’s, creating a delicious friction between them, her clit and labia trailed up and down his rigid cock pleasing both of them. Their mouths were fused together in a passionate kiss, which Monica ended only to trail kisses along the strong line of his jaw and down those sinews of his neck she had been admiring earlier. She felt the vibration of his “Mmm” as her mouth skated over his throat and down to the hollows over each collarbone. She peppered his chest with soft, juicy kisses and nibbled each hard nipple, forcing a sharp intake of breath from him. She crawled all the way down his body, leaving kisses and snail trails from her tongue in her wake. His taut belly was lightly furred with hair and she followed that down to his cock, hard and solid and twitching slightly. He touched her shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” she told him. She took him in her hand and sucked the weeping tip of his prick into her mouth. He was so ready for her, his cock hot and hard and pulsating with energy. In one quick move she engulfed him in her mouth and then took him in as deep as she could without gagging. Her sudden deep-throating forced a strangled cry from him and she devoutly hoped all the neighbors’ windows were closed. She worked him with a strong suction that hollowed her cheeks and a firm grasp up and down his shaft, her own saliva acting as a natural lubricant. Ryan let out soft sighs and harsh groans that escalated in intensity until he tugged on her hair, pulling her off him. “Stop now. ” He urged her back up toward him and soon she was once again lying along his body looking into those amazing eyes. “Your turn, ” he said and abruptly flipped her onto her back. He disappeared under the quilt. She smiled at the lump that marked his passage down toward her crotch. Then she stopped smiling and gasped as his seeking fingers parted her folds to reveal her clit and his tongue moved unerringly to her hot spot. He licked lightly, swirling around and over the tiny bundle of nerve endings until she was moaning continuously and writhing beneath him. He held her hips down not allowing her the release of arching up and he backed off from her clit, instead lapping his tongue down to dip inside her pussy as far as he could reach. It felt good, but not as good as having his tongue on her clit and she wanted it back there. She whimpered in frustration and pushed against him, but he wouldn’t let her move. He approached her clit again and licked and sucked it until she was close to peaking, so close she could see sparks on the edge of her vision. He stopped abruptly again. “Don’t!” she begged. “Finish it.” She heard a low chuckle from below and then his mouth moved on her once more. This time with a few deft twists of his tongue he brought her off. She covered her mouth to muffle her cries as she thrus t up hard. Her hips continued to rise and fall for several moments as she rode the diminishing waves of pleasure. Dimly she felt Ryan move out from between her thighs, and she realized he was going for a condom. Then he was back and pulling her up on top of him again. Without pause Monica reached down, located his dick with one hand and impaled herself on it. It felt heavy and thick inside her and her vagina was full and satisfied. She rose up on her knees and sank down on him again … and again and again, faster and faster until he was bucking up beneath her. He grabbed her hips hard and guided her up and down, the last few strokes at an almost frantic pace before he came with a deep, guttural cry. Monica subsided weakly on top of him, feeling his dick recede as it slowly softened inside her and listened to his heart pounding wildly beneath her ear. She kissed his sweatslicked chest and ran her hand up and down his biceps, stopping to trace the coiling, swirls of his tattoo. It was a simple navy- inked tribal design and it looked so hot encircling his swelling muscle. He stroked his hand over her back and they cuddled for a few moments before he laid her gently aside, removing the used condom before he lay back down bedside her. They stared up at the starless sky in comfortable silence.

Presently Ryan asked, “Is there anything we haven’t done—sexually—that you would like to try? Some secret you never told anyone? ‘Cause I’m up for it. Anything you want to do. I’ll do.” “I don’t know. I guess not.” A brief shot of one of her favorite fantasies flashed in her mind then disappeared again. “What?” He turned his head and looked at her. “You do have a wish. I can tell. What is it?” “It’s embarrassing, that’s what it is.” “Come on. ” He rolled over on his side facing her, one hand propping his head up. “You don’t want me to have to start tickling again do you? You’ll wake the neighbors with your screaming and that really will be embarrassing.” When she still hesitated, he repeated, “Come on. You can tell me, whatever it is. I’m not going to be shocked.” “Well, I’ve always wondered what it would be like, I mean if you were that sort of person, which I’m not… What it would be like to be in a threesome.” She half- swallowed the last word, taking it back the moment it was out. “Threesome with two guys or two girls?” Ryan asked. “It doesn’t matter since I’d never really do it, but guys. Two guys at once. With, uh, me.” He was silent a moment then said, “I can arrange that. If you want it.” “I don’t! It’s only a fantasy. I would never really…” “Why not? You should try it if that’s what you’re into.” “No. I … I couldn’t.” “I’ll introduce you to Travis. You’ll like him. It will give you a chance to meet someone new, and I’ll be there to make sure you’re comfortable.” “Mm, we’ll see,” she said. He seemed to forget that she wasn’t rich. She couldn’t simply fork out close to a thousand bucks to fulfill a fantasy. One escort was expensive enough and, of course, Ryan was worth every penny she was paying, but, God, she dreaded seeing her credit card bill at the end of the month. “All right. You think about it.” He reached out and took her hand, rubbing his thumb along the side of her palm. “But if it helps, I mean financially, I could come along in an assistant capacity so to speak, so that you wouldn’t be charged for my, ah, services.” Monica turned her head and glanced over at him. “You would do that?” “I want to make sure you aren’t nervous or uncomfortable with someone new. ” Besides which he didn’t want her to be so attached to him, she thought. Was she that obvious? Were her feelings showing? She had to guard against it or he would think she was a needy, love-starved woman who couldn’t tell the difference between lust and love. “All right,” she said lightly. “I’d like to try that—maybe after next week. But you don’t have to waive your payment. It’s not a problem. I can cover it.” Finances be damned, she had to let him know that she understood this was strictly business. “Okay. I’ll contact Travis and set something up.” Ryan said after a brief pause. Monica bit her bottom lip and looked up at the sky again. For a moment there was a break in the clouds and a sliver of moon shone through. It was beautiful and she would have pointed it out to Ryan, but suddenly he felt like a stranger to her. She had been playacting that they were some sort of happy couple, but he really was hired help, like the dishwasher repair guy or the plumber. How could she have lost sight of that?

Mentally she shrugged. So, fine, she would enjoy having one more secret fantasy come true and then she would put an end to this and resume her normal life. She had it all under control.

Chapter Six Ryan drove a nail into the wood with several effective blows of the hammer. He breathed in the scent of wood all around him and was thankful to George Wilkie for putting him on his crew even if the work was only temporary. It felt good to be working with his hands again in a manly way, not in the bedroom. Sex was for recreation or to express love, and having it become work was just so—wrong. It was a mistake he’d never make again. Except for this one last time with Monica. Although she didn’t know it wouldn’t be for money. He sighed and pulled another nail from the pouch tied around his waist. It was a Catch-22 situation. If he hadn’t whored himself out he never would have met Monica, but because he had been her whore he could never approach her as simply a guy wanting a date. Massive irony and not all that funny because he knew now that his feelings for her could easily become love given a little more time and a chance to develop. He remembered his promise to fix Monica’s crooked trellis and thought that maybe after this next sexcapade was over he could use that as an excuse to go over to her house in a non-sex-related capacity. Would that be too obvious? Would she be able to tell he cared? Christ, he was crushing on her again! He needed to participate in this threesome for his own good, to see Monica with another man and remind himself that it was all about sex and that he was replaceable. He shook his head to clear the thoughts of Monica and breathed in a deep lungful of the fresh spring air. It was a beautiful day. He was outdoors in the sunshine, working hard, sweating and enjoying creating something solid and permanent with his hands. There were no classes to worry about until after the spring break and according to the call he’d received from Rose Arbor, Gram had recovered from her respiratory infection. Even his Jeep was running well for a change. Stewing over sex and love and what ifs was not an option on such a perfect day. Tim was right, Ryan was a chronic worrier and it had to stop. He lifted his hammer and drove in another nail. **** “Monica, remember how much fun we used to have playing at Barb’s house when she babysat us?” Lisa said, braking at a stop sign and glancing over at Monica in the passenger seat. She hadn’t stopped chattering since she had picked up Monica to take her to the bridal shower. Monica was well aware that Lisa was using babble to try and stop her from thinking too hard, getting caught up in her own mind and perhaps spiraling off into a panic attack at the idea of facing a roomful of laughing, chattering women. “She let us play with all her Barbies that were packed away in the basement,” Lisa continued. “And I remember wondering how she could possibly be ‘too old’ to want to play with them anymore. She had such a fantastic collection of clothes plus all the cool accessories.” “The Corvette, the Dream House, the speed boat and Barbie’s Tropical Vacation Cabana,” Monica reminisced. “Oh how I loved that Cabana.”

“And the Cabana Boy. Remember?” Lisa laughed. “We always made the most handsome Ken be the Cabana Boy who Barbie fell in love with while she was vacationing with her dull fiancé, Fred.” “God, yes. Cabana Ken. Only he wasn’t really a Ken doll but one of the New Kids on the Block. Jordan, I think. He was so hot.” Monica laughed too. Her spirits lifted. It was a beautiful spring day. She was outdoors with her sister on the way to a party where only half the women were relatives and the other half strangers, yet she felt no trace of anxiety coming on. It was fantastic. She was fantastic. The world was fantastic. And in another handful of hours she would be having fantastic sex with not one but two fantastic looking guys. Could life be any more fantastic? She had wondered when she confirmed the day and time with Ryan if she wasn’t planning a little too much activity for one day, but she had brushed off her doubts and made the date anyway. Right now she didn’t foresee any trouble. She felt as if she could handle anything. Lisa eased the car into Aunt Helen’s driveway. Monica took a deep, calming breath then opened the car door and stepped out. So far so good. Their aunt greeted them at the front door with an air kiss to each cheek. The babble from the living room assaulted Monica, but it didn’t make one dent in her shield. Aunt Helen directed them toward the gift table and the buffet table where hors d'oeuvres were available, then bustled off to her next task. Lisa leaned in to ask Monica if she was doing okay and Monica glared. “I’m not an invalid. Stop it.” As they entered the living room, they were confronted by a circle of women chattering at top volume. Monica felt a flutter of nervousness in her stomach as conversation died and everyone turned to look at the new arrivals. “Sweetheart, you made it!” Her mom rose and came at Monica with her arms outstretched. Monica hadn’t told her she was coming in case she wanted to bail at the last minute. “I’m so glad,” she said, enfolding Monica in her arms. “Mony, Mony, ” Barb squealed, also rising and coming to welcome Monica. The pet name recalled childhood days when Barb had put on Billy Idol and danced with Lisa and Monica around the living room. “I had no idea you would be here. Thank you so much for coming.” “Everyone,” Barb announced to the room at large, “these are my cousins, Lisa and Monica.” She turned back to them. “We’ll have a name game soon so I won’t try to tell you all of Alex’s aunts and cousins names.” Games. Oh goody. Barb took her hand and led her over to sit on a chair near her. She squeezed Monica’s hand and winked at her before she sat down in her crepe paper-draped chair of honor. Monica was enveloped in a solid wall of sound as the women resumed their interrupted conversations and the noise level crept up. Okay. This wasn’t so bad. She could do this. There was no pressure here. All she had to do was sit and smile, make some occasional small talk with one of her relatives and then Lisa would drop her off back at home. But, God, the room seemed warm and the voices all sounded like one loud buzzing hive of bees. Monica felt her ears ringing and realized she was breathing too fast. She

concentrated on slowing down her respiration and missed whatever it was Barb had said to her. “Pardon me?” she said, her voice breaking like a pubescent boy’s. “I was wondering if you thought you might make it to the wedding, I mean now that you’re out and about again. No pressure though, ” Barb hastened to add. “Um, I’ll try. ” Monica was having a hard time concentrating on Barb’s words. The voices around her seemed overly loud and a high-pitched whining was ringing her eardrums. Just then Aunt Helen swept in and declared the games begun. They were supposed to go around the room and introduce themselves by their name and relationship to Barb along with something unusual or interesting about themselves to act as a reminder. Then they would each be called on to verbally recall a name and tidbit about one of the other people at the party. The repetition of names and facts was supposed to help them get to know one another. Monica thought, “Hi. I’m Monica, Barb’s cousin, and I recently enacted a rape scenario with a gigolo I found on the Internet.” Since she was to Barb’s right, Monica actually was first. “Hi. I’m Barb’s cousin, Monica, and I’m a freelance writer.” It was a lot less memorable than what she had been thinking, but it would have to do. It made her wonder, looking around at the women’s faces, how many of them had secrets they would never admit to. After everyone in the circle had introduced herself, the actual game began. Numbers were assigned and then chosen so each woman had to re- introduce another at random. “She is Kristy, Alex’s second cousin, and she won a baking contest once. She is Alexa, Alex’s mom and she is horribly afraid of rats.” It was a silly game, harmless, non-judgmental. Everyone laughed when someone occasionally drew a blank and couldn’t place the name or remember the tag. So why was Monica’s heart starting to thump harder in anticipation of being called on? It was absolutely ridiculous. She was an adult. There was nothing to fear here other than some gentle ribbing if she flubbed up. Why was her pulse beginning to race? God, she so hated the body that betrayed her when her mind was being perfectly logical. She heard her number called. “Twelve,” Alex’s mom, a blond woman with hair teased into a bouffant and shellacked into place with hairspray, gestured toward Monica. “She is Monica, Barb’s cousin, the writer.” Everyone murmured and smiled. Party games were just so damn much fun! Monica’s smile was frozen on her face now. She blinked her eyes to clear them of the fog that was creeping in at the edges and took a deep breath. She glanced at the number she had been given. “Three is Sylvia? No, Sybil, a friend from Barb’s work, who used to date Alex and set Barb and Alex up for their first blind date.” The guests roared with laughter at that one. The game and everyone’s attention swept on, away from Monica, and ye t her symptoms lingered. There was simply too much here. Too much noise. Too much false bonhomie. Too much estrogen altogether. Monica got up and made her circuitous way behind the chairs and out of the room. She went to the hall bathroom and closed the door behind her, shutting out the cacophony. After splashing cold water on her face, she looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. You can do this. Smile, nod, eat tiny sandwiches and cake, go home

again. No breathing problems, no racing heart, no blackness at the edge of your vision. Just a normal afternoon at a bridal shower. You can be like everyone else. She heard a soft knock on the door. “Monica? You okay? ” Lisa asked. Monica patted her face dry and opened the door. “Peeing. Is that allowed?” she snapped, knowing that Lisa didn’t deserve her annoyance, but unable to stop being annoyed. “You looked kind of pale and I thought… Do you want to leave now?” “Without having a piece of cake? I don’t think so.” Monica forced a smile. “Seriously, I’m good. I’ll let you know if I need to get out.” Together they returned to the living room but Monica got no farther than the archway before her pulse sped up again and she felt herself swaying. She rested a hand against the wall and swallowed hard. She forced her mind inside to the safe spot Dr. Brewer had helped her create for herself and she breathed slowly, while the noise around her seemed to go up and up and up in pitch and volume until her head was filled with the assaulting sound. “Now, ” she hissed at Lisa. “I need to get out now. ” “Okay, ” Lisa whispered back. “I’ll let Barb know. Can you walk to the car by yourself?” Monica nodded once then turned and crept along the wall toward the foyer. She knew Lisa was whispering to Barb, explaining “the situation” and that by the time the party was over everyone there would know about poor Monica’s “condition” and how very pitiful and sad it was that such a nice young woman was moldering away in a prison of her own making, too fearful to live her life. Tears sprang to her eyes imagining the gossip and she blinked hard to clear them. Once she was through the front door Monica was suddenly frozen on the doorstep. The day was as glorious, sunny, warm, breezy, as perfect as it had been when they walked from the car to the house only a half hour earlier, but she couldn’t fucking walk out into it. Not one step. She waited for Lisa. A moment later the front door opened behind her and Lisa came out. “I’m sorry, ” Monica said, her voice breaking on the word. “I’m sorry you had to leave. I feel like an idiot. This is exactly why I never want to go anywhere.” “Honey, it’s okay. ” Lisa took her arm and led her toward the car as she talked. “It’s okay if you need to leave early. What’s bad is when you never even try to go anywhere. The important thing today is that you really tried, and both Mom and I are so proud of you.” “Damn, Lisa.” Monica was blubbering. “You’re too nice. You make me feel like such a shit for being snotty to you. ” “Hey, little sisters are always snotty to big sisters. It’s a rule.” The car ride home was quiet. Lisa caught Monica’s mood and had the sense to let her rest in silence. She walked Monica to her front door and hugged her goodbye. “You sure you don’t want me to stay with you? ” “No. I’m good. I want to lie down for a while. Thanks for picking me up today. Parties are such fun!” Monica mocked the female bonding ritual of the wedding shower. “Especially the games.” “I know. And to think you made me miss the ‘create a wedding gown out of toilet paper’ portion of the day. ” Lisa laughed with her. “See you later, hon. ”

Monica collapsed on her couch, exhausted from fighting her stupid panic. She considered calling Ryan and canceling the evening’s plan, but after a moment of consideration thought that maybe the release of a wild night of sex was exactly what she needed. She kicked off her shoes, drew her feet up on the couch and lay down on her side to take a nap. **** Ryan was on afternoon break at the construction site. He took a sip of his Styrofoam cup of coffee and rotated his shoulder, which was sore from hammering. His phone rang and he checked caller ID. It was Rose Arbor. The administrator informed him that Gram had collapsed. An attendant found her on the floor of her room and she had been taken to the hospital. He was supposed to meet a staff member there. Ryan explained the situation to the foreman, Mr. Wilkie, jumped in his car and peeled out of the drive that led to the site with a spray of gravel. His heart raced as he drove to St. Martin’s Memorial. Tha nk God the hospital was a closer than the nursing home. Twenty minutes later he skidded into the hospital parking lot. It turned out to be less of a crisis than it had sounded over the phone. Gram had been almost healed from her respiratory infection when suddenly her body had had a reaction to the antibiotic she was taking. By the time Ryan got to the emergency room, Gram was awake and alert, although still lost in a fog of misplaced time. He leaned to kiss her cheek and she called him Aaron and asked how Becky was. He told her Becky was just fine thanks and asked if there was anything he could do for her. She asked for a Mars bar in a plaintive voice and he promised to get her one. The doctor explained that they would like to keep her overnight for observation, but she could probably return to Rose Arbor in the morning. Ryan’s heart sank as he imagined the cost of an overnight stay but he nodded. Gram was on Medicare, but that was the only insurance she had and her small pension had long since been depleted. All her bills would fall on Ryan ultimately. An orderly transferred Gram from the ER to a room while Ryan went to the gift shop in search of a Mars bar. They didn’t have any and he chose a Three Musketeers at random, hoping Gram would forget what she has asked for in the first place. He spent two hours sitting with Gram listening to her alternately talk about events from her past, communicate with people who weren’t there and sit silently staring straight ahead at nothing. It was depressing as hell and more exhausting than all the hours he had put in at the construction site. At least she seemed to enjoy the candy bar. When Gram finally drifted off to sleep, a nurse gently reminded him that visiting hours were over and urged him to go home and rest too. Fuck! He’d totally forgotten about his date with Monica. He had to wait until he was out of the hospital to use his cell phone and when he went to dial the battery was dead. Fuck, fuck! He considered going back inside and using a pay phone but it seemed better to simply hurry to Monica’s as quickly as he could. He climbed into the Jeep and floored it out of the parking lot. ****

Monica woke in early evening feeling muzzy and confused. She could tell by the light coming in the windows that she had lost a big chunk of time, but she was amazed when she looked at the clock and found it was 7:30. Shit! She was expecting her “guests” by 8:00. She quickly showered and dressed, gobbled a yogurt to have something in her stomach since she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. But before she had time to slow down or orient herself, the doorbell rang. “Ryan!” her heart said, responding with a ridiculous level of joy. She opened the door with a huge smile on her face to greet him and was dismayed to find a stranger on her front porch. Well, not a complete stranger. She remembered Travis’s picture and bio from the Labors of Love catalog. He was the handsome poet with the huge biceps and the gorgeous white teeth. Seeing him in person was intimidating. He was tall and toned, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and slacks. He had smooth brown skin and dark, intense eyes. Monica half expected him to speak in poetic abstract phrases when he opened his mouth. “Hello, you must be Monica.” His voice was rich and creamy as a Dove bar. He sounded like one of those announcers on public radio. “Am I too early? ” “No. Please … come in.” He followed her inside. Where was Ryan? She thought they were coming together— an image of the two men, light and dark, wrapped in an embrace rose in her mind at the phrase—or rather, arriving at the same time. “I … Ryan’s not here yet,” she said lamely. What in the world was she doing? This was absolute madness. “Won’t you sit down? ” She gestured toward the couch. “Actually, I have something I’d like to prepare if you have a blender.” He held up a paper bag. “I hope you like margaritas.” Monica sighed in relief. Something to fill the time. “Yes. That would be wonderful.” Travis made himself at home and moved around her kitchen preparing the drinks. He kept up a stream of conversation, asking her about her work and telling about an interesting book he was currently reading. By the time he poured the thick, icy drink in a glass and offered it to her she was feeling much more relaxed. “Here’s something else for you too,” he said, holding out his hand. In the middle of his palm was a small white tablet and Monica was suddenly reminded of the D.A.R.E. class she took back in fifth grade. The goofy little “Just Say No” ditty ran through her head. At her doubtful look, he added, “It’s E and, trust me, it’s safe. Here I’ll show you. ” He popped the tab in his mouth and swallowed then produced another from a little packet retrieved from his pocket and offered it to her again. “Works best without the alcohol, but what the hell, you can’t have a party without margaritas.” Monica swallowed the Ecstasy and chased it with a sip of the tart drink. “How long before I feel something?” “It depends on your metabolism, but in about a half hour it should be kicking in. Meanwhile, why don’t you let me give you a massage? Nothing breaks the ice better.” Monica’s heart fluttered. It was go time. She was sure he was talking about a naked massage and her relaxed mood disappeared. Where was Ryan? Why didn’t he call? She was about to get naked with a total stranger and she needed him to be a part of it or she didn’t know if she could handle it. And how strange was that? She hadn’t felt any

hesitation about stripping in front of Ryan that first time. Other than a brief stab of nerves at the very beginning, she had always been completely comfortable around him. Travis took her hand and led her to the couch. Monica sat down and Travis sat beside her. He turned her back toward him and put his hands on her shoulders, kneading them gently. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Come on, sweetness. Let me help you relax. ” He kissed the side of her neck. Monica shivered at his touch. “You don’t have to be nervous. Nobody’s going to do anything here that you don’t want. It’s all your play. ” He continued to reassure her in his deep rumbling voice, telling her how safe she was and how good she was going to feel, the entire time his hands were moving. He continued to massage her shoulders and before Monica knew it, she found herself shirtless. His hands were hot on her back as he massaged from her neck all the way down to her ass, slowly, deeply, relaxing her muscles completely and oh, what happened to her bra? From her back his hands crept around her sides, slid up over her rib cage to encompass her breasts. And still his voice murmured a litany of words like a monk’s obscene chant, “You feel so good. Your skin is soft and smooth as satin. I can’t wait to see how you taste and to know what you feel like wrapped all around me.” He kneaded her tits gently, his mouth trailing across her back from shoulder to shoulder, kissing, licking, so soft, so soft. He kissed between the wings of her shoulder blades while he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Monica felt like soft bread dough beneath his kneading hands. Her muscles melted at his touch and she grew boneless. A growing sense of euphoria blossomed through her and she wondered if it was the little white tablet already kicking in. “You feeling more comfortable now, baby? Good. I want you to enjoy every bit of this because it’s all about you. Making you feel so good.” He turned her body around to face him and stopped the mesmerizing stream of words to lean in and kiss her. His lips full and soft on hers, covering her mouth then tempting it open with the warm, wetness of his tongue. Monica’s nerve endings were tuned to high. Her skin, her lips, her tongue had never felt so alive. She kissed Travis with mounting passion, her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and her hands running through the tight curls of his hair. His large, warm hands moved down her back to grab her ass and pull her onto his lap. She continued to kiss and kiss his hot, hot mouth, clinging to him like a vine on a trellis. “Just a minute, honey, ” he whispered, pulling away from her long enough to quickly take off his shirt. Monica was awestruck at the array of muscles that he probably worked on every day. She reached out and ran her hands over the swollen biceps and down his arms all the way to his hands that were busily unfastening her pants and sliding them off over her hips. Monica knew that the E had kicked in because she could feel the material scraping over her skin like sandpaper. This was like having a fever that left your skin ultra sensitive. Travis lifted her up and slid her pants the rest of the way down her legs until she stood before him naked. He pulled her back onto his lap, and the material of his pants scratched against her naked thighs, ass and vulva with excruciating pleasure. She felt her

sex tighten and release and knew she was getting wet. So wet she was afraid she would leave little puddles of dampness on Travis’s slacks. Travis offered her another sip from her margarita glass. She was so thirsty she swallowed half the drink and got an ice headache. She squinted her eyes from the intense pain. “Ice,” she explained. He laughed a warm, honeyed chuckle and massaged her temples until she was better. He kissed her again and in contrast to her ice-chilled mouth, his was hot as a fever. God, he kissed good. He was sweet and warm and nice. She loved him. Loved him very much. Almost as much as Ryan. And where was Ryan? She missed him and wanted him to be a part of this because she really, really liked Ryan and wanted him to be as happy as she was right now with all these good, good feelings and the warmth and the love. “Slow down, baby girl,” Travis said. “Or I’m going to lose it here.” Monica was rubbing her body all over his like a cat. Her tits and belly were pressed against him as she writhed. Her hands rubbed up and down his back, over his shoulders and into his hair. Her crotch ground against the bulge in his pants. “Whoops, sorry. ” She giggled and pulled away from him, but only a little—only far enough to begin picking at the button on the top of his pants. She wanted to see what his cock looked like. She loved how the button slipped through the buttonhole so neatly and the zipper opened with a little “rrrip.” Zippers were such an amazing invention and so were buttons, really. Underneath the button and the zipper there was hair and a big hard cock—no underwear. “You don’t have underwear,” she informed him gravely. “Just a cock.” She wrapped a hand around it and began to pull. It was smooth and warm and very hard in her hand, and she knew she had to taste it. She slithered off his lap and between his knees to take that smooth, warm and very hard cock in her mouth. It tasted a little salty and felt absolutely amazing against her tongue. She rolled her tongue up over the head and played in the little slit at the top. Travis groaned with pleasure. She licked up and down the length of his shaft pretending it was a Popsicle, only it was warm and it never melted. Up and down she licked, laughing softly to herself over the Popsicle analogy. She stopped to look up at Travis, whose eyes were half closed as he watched her. “Do you ever melt?” A momentary frown of confusion flashed over his features and then he laughed again. “Little girl, you are wrecked. Come up here and let me tend to you a minute.” The doorbell rang. “My bell! Ryan’s here,” Monica said. “I have to get the door.” She started to stand up but Travis held her hands. “It’s okay. I left it unlocked for him in case we were too busy to answer.” “Come in, Ryan, ” Travis shouted, then pulled Monica on his lap and began sucking one of her nipples while he toyed with the other one. Monica’s breasts felt like they were made of nerve endings, billions and billions of fireflies clicking on and off, signaling messages to the rest of her body. She had never felt anything as intense as Travis’s mouth on her tender breast, sucking and nipping. She cried out, tilting her head back, and then she opened her eyes and caught sight of Ryan.

He was upside down. She lifted her head up and swiveled it around to look at him again. Her eyes seemed to take a moment to catch up with her head and focus. “You came! Come here. You have to taste my margarita. Could you hand me my margarita?” she asked Travis and he obligingly reached over to the end table and got it for her. Monica took the glass then looked up at Ryan again. He was frowning. He didn’t look happy and that made her sad. “Taste this. You’ll feel better.” She was going to dip her breast in the margarita but the drink was too far down in the glass so instead she drizzled the icy concoction over he r nipple. “Taste it,” she said again. “Whoa!” Travis rescued the glass from her hand. “Jesus, man, what’d you give her?” Ryan asked, striding toward them. Travis leaned forward and sucked the sweet, stickiness off of Monica’s breast before replying. “Only some E to help her relax. She was a little nervous, but look at her now— not nervous.” “Christ, she has panic attacks. She could be on medication. You can’t just give people stuff like that.” Ryan shrugged off the button down shirt he wore over his sleeveless T-shirt. Monica thought she might cry Ryan looked so unhappy. “Don’t be upset. Come here. I don’t want you to be upset. I’m good. We’re all good.” “I’m good over here,” Travis agreed, grinning. “Are you good, Ryan? ” Monica floundered off of Travis’s lap and threw her arms around Ryan’s neck. She hugged him tight and breathed in his scent. He smelled like sweat and sawdust, not cologne like Travis. She loved that he smelled like a man. “I love that you smell like a man. Please don’t frown anymore.” She licked at his salty neck and felt his muscles stiff and hard against her. She wondered if he liked the licking because he wasn’t making any of those nice noises he usually made. She tilted her head up to look into his eyes and they were so sad. But at least he wasn’t frowning anymore. He leaned down to kiss her. His mouth was warm and his lips were soft, not as full and soft as Travis’s but still really, really nice and she loved his lips. “You need a margarita,” she told him. “And one of those pills. You’ll feel really good then. Travis will get you a margarita and a pill.” Travis moved to obey, tapping Ryan in the shoulder as he passed. “Hey, it’s cool, man. She’s all right and we’re going to make her even better.” He winked at Monica. “Aren’t we, sweetness?” Monica tugged on Ryan’s hand, leading him to the couch. She sat down she moved him to stand in front of her. “Take off your undershirt,” she told him as she began to work on his jeans. “You have buttons all the way down and no zipper.” When she had worked all the buttons open, she splayed the front of his jeans wide. “But you do have underwear. Travis doesn’t.” She tugged on the waistband and pulled both underwear and jeans over his hips. His prick bobbed free and she took it in her hand, abandoning his pants halfway down his thighs. “These things are hilarious,” she said waving his dick around. “Really. I think everyone should have one.” She looked up and Ryan was smiling now. The euphoric feeling coursed through her and she had to tell him how she felt. “I love you.”

Ryan’s smile disappeared. “Here we go.” Travis returned with more drinks. “One for you. ” He handed it to Ryan. “And a refill for you. ” Monica took it and drank deeply. “Careful now, ” Travis warned. “You don’t want to give yourself another headache. When Monica looked up again, Ryan was out of his jeans and Travis had lost his pants. They stood beside each other talking and Monica was on eye level with their groins. She heard Travis tell Ryan to take a pill and chill because he was wound way too tight for what was going down tonight and Ryan snapped that he didn’t need it. But mostly she tuned out their voices and concentrated on their penises, both hard and swaying slightly in the air. Ryan’s pubic hair was light brown, like his head hair and his penis was pale like his skin, thick and long and curved a little upward. Travis’s hair was dark, the curls tight and his penis was even thicker, not as long and very straight. Monica was entranced by the palette of colors on each penis ranging from purplish-red at the heads to various shades of tan, brown, cream and pink. They were beautiful. “Your cocks are really quite lovely,” she announced. When both of them laughed, she said, “I mean it. You should have them photographed and framed.” “Come on. Let’s take you to bed,” Travis said, extending a hand to her. He pulled her up to her feet and into his arms, but Monica wanted Ryan. She rotated around until she was facing him with her arms held out. He moved into them and his body felt so familiar, comforting and solid. She had never been so warm in her life. Travis sheltered her back and Ryan guarded her front. Their arms were around her and consequently around each other. Monica’s head was against Ryan’s chest and she looked down to see Travis’s arm crossing her hip and his hand coming to rest on Ryan’s waist. She loved the way their skin looked together. “You sure you’re ready for this?” Ryan murmured against the top of her head and Monica nodded. Travis broke from their group clench and led the way back to the bedroom. “To the right,” Ryan directed him. Monica held his rough and calloused hand. She brought it to her mouth and kissed it then looked up at him. He smiled down at her and guided her with his hand at her waist to the bedroom, which was bathed in candle- light. Soft music played from the stereo on her dresser. Ryan lifted her off her feet and carried her the rest of the way to the bed. He laid her down and sat next to her. Travis moved onto the bed from the far side, tucking a handful of condom packets under the pillow. “Good thinking, ” she told him gravely. He grinned, his teeth a flash of white against his dark face. He leaned down and kissed her. She surrendered her mouth to his plunging tongue. She felt Ryan’s mouth on her breast and his hand moving down between her thighs to tease her clit. And then very quickly she lost track of whose hands were doing what. There seemed to be so many of

them. She felt someone holding her thigh, a finger tracing the opening of her anus and tickling its way inside, a hand in her hair twisting it lightly and the other one rubbing up and down her back. The lips kissing her changed from Travis’s to Ryan’s. She opened her eyes to see him, the fine arch of his brow, the sweet curve of his eyelashes against his cheek. She wanted to tell him how his eyes about killed her every time she looked at them, but her mouth was full of his tongue and she couldn’t speak. She felt Travis’s mouth probing deep inside her pussy, then licking up to her clit. She moaned into Ryan’s mouth. Monica closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the feeling of hands, mouths, bodies surrounding her, touching her, holding her, kissing, licking, sucking everywhere. It was too intense and she knew she was about to come already. She twisted her head to free her mouth from whoever was kissing her. “Not yet!” she gasped. “Hm, baby? What do you want?” Travis’s deep voice reverberated near her ear and she wondered when they had switched position. Ryan was now the one down between her legs. Time was doing crazy things. “Inside me. Both. At once.” She had read that it could be done but she didn’t know if it was true. “In your pussy? ” Travis asked. “That’s a lot of stretching, sweetheart. I don’t know if you’re gonna like that. Maybe better to have one in front and one in back.” He caressed her bottom, drawing his finger lightly around her hole. Monica had never been had a man fuck her there, but right now she was willing to try anything. Travis tossed a tube of lubricant to Ryan and he moved up behind her. “Slow and easy, ” Travis warned. Monica felt Ryan’s fingers applying the cool jelly to her anus, slipping two fingers in and out, stretching them apart to make her wider, while Travis stroked her face, kissed her jaw and told her she was a sweet, beautiful girl. She felt his wide cock sliding into her pussy and she was so incredibly wet and ready his girth entered easily. “Ahhh, ” she sighed. From behind her she felt something much bigger than Ryan’s fingers carefully prodding open her sphincter and pushing inexo rably inside. She gasped at the stretching, burning sensation. “Fuck! This is so tight. So tight. My God,” Ryan grunted. Travis moved languidly inside her. He filled her completely, and Ryan was now impaled in her ass. Their bodies were so hot all around her, she felt like the blue glow in the heart of a flame. “I’m afraid to pull out and hurt her,” Ryan said. “Go slow. She’ll be okay. ” Monica gasped against Travis’s chest as she felt Ryan withdraw slowly from her ass. Then he entered her again, even deeper and she cried out. He stopped moving instantly. “You want me to quit?” Ryan asked. “Oh God, no! Keep going.” Ryan began to move in and out of her ass. Travis moved too, very slowly in and out of her pussy, timing his thrusts to Ryan’s so that when one invaded the other receded. She was never completely empty. She was always filled. Absolutely filled. Blood rushed in her ears and she felt her whole body tingling as she was surrounded by male

flesh in front and behind. Hands touching everywhere, lips on her face, neck, throat, back and two swollen cocks piercing her. Their primal grunts grew in intensity as both of the men began to lose themselves in the experience, plunging into her body with less care and more abandon. It hurt. Monica wouldn’t deny that it was somewhat painful, especially in her rear, but the pleasure outweighed the pain, balanced it until the pain itself became a pleasure. Travis interspersed his grunts with words. “Oh, baby. Damn. Fuck!” He began to move faster and Monica thought he was about to come. The men were out of sync now and sometimes invaded her simultaneously. She could feel their cocks practically touching inside her, only a thin wall of tissue separating them. Her body throbbed with the intensity of the dual penetration and she felt her orgasm begin to swell and build rapidly inside her. She moaned and cried out against Travis’s sweat-slicked chest. Ryan’s hard body behind her stilled for a moment. His cock deep inside her, his arms gripped her tight and he murmured her name. Sandwiched between the two men Monica suddenly felt herself trembling on the brink of the precipice and falling. She had never been rocked so hard in her life, her orgasm magnified by the eroticism of the menage. She screamed her release into Travis’s chest and bit the skin pressed against her mouth. Travis cursed and rammed into her so violently she knew that he was coming too. Ryan, inflamed by their cries, followed after. His hands gripped Monica’s shoulders, his face burrowed into the back of her neck and he murmured a litany of “Christ. Fuck. Jesus ” as his cock pulsed inside her. All three of them gasped for air, their chests heaving as though they’d run a marathon. Ryan was still throwing out an occasional curse under his breath. After a moment Travis started to laugh. “Whoo-ee! That was something. ” He rolled away from Monica, laid back on the bed and touched the bite mark on his chest. “Sorry. I got carried away, I guess,” Monica said, gazing with dismay at the ring of teeth marks marring his skin. She felt Ryan slowly disengage himself from behind her and, while she was relieved to have her ass empty, she missed his warmth at her back. Travis pulled out too and cleaned up, discarding the used condom. “I’m gonna get something from the kitchen. You want anything? ” he said. “There’s bottled water in the fridge,” Monica said. “Thanks.” After Travis left for the kitchen, Ryan spooned Monica from behind, pulling her tightly against him and kissing the side of her neck. “Was that okay for you? ” he asked. “Not too intense?” “Unbelievable,” she said. “I’ve never felt anything so… It was everything I imagined only more—real. ” “That’s good. That’s what we’re here for, to make you happy. ” “Happy, ” she repeated sleepily, trailing her fingers up and down his forearm. “And you like Travis?” he asked. “I like everybody. ” Ryan laughed. Travis returned with water for them and Monica practically emptied her bottle. She lay back down with the two men stretched out on either side of her. She was

exhausted yet content. Her body felt bruised and used, but in a good way, as if she had had a strenuous workout. Ryan lay behind her with his hand resting on her hip. Even though he wasn’t pressed up against her back, she could feel the heat radiating off him. Travis lay facing her, with his hand on her rib cage holding her close to his massive chest. Cocooned in their body heat, Monica drifted off to sleep. **** An hour later Travis’s voice jerked her awake. “Well, Ms. Monica. If you’re finished with me, I’ll be going. I’ve got some things to take care of at home.” “Really? You don’t want a slumber party? ” she mumbled. “Thanks, sweetie, but I can’t stay. ” Travis kissed her once on the lips. “I had a wonderful time, and don’t you worry about getting up, I’ll let myself out.” “Later, man,” Travis said to Ryan and then he left the bedroom. When she heard the front door close Monica gave a sigh of relief. She was kind of glad he was gone. She was starting to feel a little headache coming on and her mouth was still cottony. It had been a wild experience, but now that it was over she only wanted to lie here with Ryan. She rolled over to face him and snuggled against his chest, wrapping her arm around his waist. “You were late tonight,” she said, meaning, “I missed you. ” “Yeah, sorry about that. I got caught up in some stuff. ” There was a moment of silence and then he said, “So you like Travis okay? ” “Yes. He’s very nice.” His hand rubbed circles on her lower back. “Maybe you’ll want to ask for him next time.” She looked up at him sharply, forgetting that this threesome was supposed to be her last hurrah anyway. “Why? ” “I’m getting kind of busy and I might not be able to come any more.” “Oh. ” Monica felt her heart plummet. Just as she had thought, he could tell that she was getting too attached and was cutting her off. “Yeah. Travis is, uh, good at what he does.” “You know, ” Ryan said slowly, “maybe you should think about trying to meet someone who … you’re not paying. You’re an amazing woman and you sell yourself short.” “Thanks. I’ll take that into consideration, ” Monica said curtly, her warm, fuzzy haze dissipating. Her nerve endings were still in overdrive and tactile sensations were amplified, but the ‘I love the world’ vibe was quickly dying at Ryan’s cool tone. “You deserve more,” he continued. “You need to get back out in the world, maybe develop a real relationship.” She thought of her stressful day and realized he had no clue what life was like for her. Besides, who was he to be giving her love advice? “Look, I didn’t hire you to be my therapist. I already have one,” she snapped, rolling away from his body and onto her back. “I don’t need advice from a … from you. I’m well aware that this whole rent-a-date thing is severely fucked up.” The words hung in the air between them and although Monica hadn’t said “whore” it was so clearly implied she might as well have. She risked a glance at Ryan to gauge his reaction to her words.

The always-open expression in his pale blue eyes flashed anger then hurt. Then, like someone drawing a drape across a window, they shuttered. His face became as neutral and blank as a clean sheet of paper. “You’re right,” he said evenly. “It’s not my business. I’m sorry. ” “Ryan, I didn’t mean…” She reached out a hand to touch his arm. “No. You’re right,” he repeated. “I don’t know anything about what your condition is like and it’s not my place to offer my opinion. ” He sat up in bed. “Look, if you don’t mind, if we’re finished here, I’d like to go.” His voice had never sounded so cold, not even when they’d been play-acting the rape scenario. “I’m sorry, ” Monica said. “Don’t leave angry. ” The idea that her time with him should end this way with harsh words and hard feelings was unacceptable. “I’m not angry, just clear on some things,” he said. “Goodbye, Monica.” For a second she thought he was going to shake her hand—business concluded. Then he was off the bed and out the door before she could respond. “Wait.” Monica scrambled out of bed to follow him, but before she could disentangle herself from the sheet she heard the front door close. He must have fled the house halfnaked. She trotted to the living room but it was empty, discarded margarita glasses the only sign of the night’s activities. Monica sat down on the couch, her head pounding, and began to cry, forehead pressed into her palms. The empty, hollow feeling that pervaded her now was worse than the dull numbness she had been living with before Ryan. Whoever said “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” was full of shit. Her heart ached even though Ryan had never really, technically been hers to love. In their brief times together she had come to feel that they knew each other in some deeply connected way, but it had all been her imagination and now she must suffer the consequence of believing in her own fantasy—loneliness. Amber, who had been absent all evening hiding somewhere in the house, jumped onto the couch and sniffed her elbow. Monica gathered the cat’s soft body to her chest and hugged her, burying her face in fur and cried as if her heart would break. **** A block away from Monica’s house, Ryan pulled over and put the Jeep in park. He sat there with the engine idling feeling like an ass in his shirtless, shoeless state. He had left Monica’s house like a little boy who’d been scolded and had run away from home. He’d barely taken the time to pull on his jeans before flying through the front door. Her unspoken word had cut deep. “Whore.” That’s what he was to her. Fuck, of course that’s all he was to her and what the hell had he thought he was doing offering her advice about her life? From the moment he had walked in her door and found her perched on Travis’s lap with his face buried in her tits, Ryan had felt a slow burn of mingled anger, jealousy and desperation. He didn’t like it. He hadn’t expected it. Maybe it was because of his stressful day and the rushing when he realized he was late, but he came into the situation unprepared for how it would make him feel. He’d had a primal urge to knock Travis across the room and away from his woman. He recovered his sanity and participated in Monica’s threesome fantasy with admittedly some enjoyment. Okay, a lot of enjoyment. It was really hot. But the moment

the post-orgasmic bliss had evaporated his sour mood re-emerged. He didn’t like the idea of Monica continuing on with Labors of Love, calling Travis, or Daniel, or anyone besides him. And despite his advice to her, he really didn’t like the idea of her meeting some nice guy and dating him either. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. Fuck! He was so over this. The whole experiment in prostitution had been a huge mistake, and falling for Monica the biggest error in judgment of all. Now it was time to gather up the shreds of his pride and his wounded heart and carry on with life. He would eradicate Monica from his mind and focus on his future. Ryan put the car back in gear and with one last glance in his rearview mirror, drove away from her street for the last time.

Chapter Seven Over the next week and a half Monica slowly came back to life. She was proud of herself that she hadn’t let Ryan’s rejection drive her back into housebound mode. She was out every day now working in her garden and taking short walks through her neighborhood. She had even attempted another foray into the larger world, go ing to a dress shop with Lisa to find something to wear to Barb’s wedding. They didn’t go to the mall with its teaming bustle of people, but to a very small shop that their mother had patronized for as long as she could remember. Monica hadn’t found a dress she liked and decided to stick with the blue one, but the trip was well worth it for the confidence it engendered. Monica began to enjoy her daily walks through her quiet neighborhood. Most of her neighbors were retirees who had tiny, pristine lawns and perfectly manicured landscaping that made her bushes seem shaggy by comparison. One day as she walked along the sidewalk toward her house, she passed her nearest neighbor, Mrs. Ridge, out pruning her hedges. “Hello,” the gray-haired woman called out, pausing in her cutting long enough to wave. “Hi, Mrs. Ridge. Your yard’s looking great.” “Thank you. I have some bulbs I need to thin. If you’d like some to plant, just let me know. ” “I will.” Monica turned in at her own yard, dead- heading the spent spring flowers along the path before going up to her front porch. She pulled a thick bundle of mail from her box and began sorting it as she walked through the front door. Between the junk mail, bills and payments for various articles she found her credit card statement. Monica dropped the rest of the mail on the hall table and opened the envelope anxious to see the damage. Mentally she had already calculated and knew it was going to be bad, but she had to see the bottom line with her own eyes. She reviewed the charges for various household supplies and repairs, restaurant takeout orders, the normal expenses of her life. And there were the charges for Labors of Love dating service—but something was not right. Her first date with Ryan had been reflected on the previous month’s bill so the other three times they met, including the double expense of the threesome encounter, should be there. But she saw only a date corresponding to the night Ryan had helped enact her rape fantasy and nothing beyond that. She scanned the whole statement again but she hadn’t missed anything. Monica stared at the bill in confusion. “This isn’t right,” she muttered. She found her cell phone and dialed Labors of Love. “Good afternoon. You’ve reached Labors of Love. How may we help you make your dating dream come true?” “Hello. I recently received my credit card statement and I’m not sure the charges from your agency are accurate.” “You would need to talk to our billing department, ma’am. ” There was a brief break and a new voice came on the line. “May I help you? ”

“My credit card statement appears to be missing several charges from Labors of Love.” Not that I’m so anxious to pay them. She gave the dates and was told that there was no record of appointments or charges incurred on those days. Monica’s mind raced. She asked to be transferred back to the receptionist. “Please, is it possible for me to set up an appointment with Ryan H.?” Last names were not used at Labors of Love and Ryan had never mentioned his. “He is no longer available,” the receptionist’s well- modulated voice told her. “What kind of date are you looking for? I can make a recommendation based on your specific needs.” “No. I need Ryan. I mean, I need to know about—You’re saying he doesn’t work there any more. Can you tell me how long ago he quit?” “I’m afraid that information is confidential. ” “Please, I’m simply trying to figure something out here. Can’t you at least tell me how long he worked there?” There was a pause before the woman replied in a slightly more human tone, “Ryan was only employed for a little over two weeks.” “Thank you, ” Monica said her mind racing at the news. She hung up and stared at her phone, considering. He had come to her two more times on his own. Her mind slowly added it up. He came because he wanted to. He came because he liked being with her. He liked her! But what about Travis, why would he work for free? She bit her bottom lip and looked at the phone once more then she dialed the cell number Ryan had given her. The one she had come close to calling so many times over the past days but had managed not to every time. It only rang twice before a mechanical voice came on to tell her she had reached a number that was disconnected or no longer in service. “Damn!” Monica hung up, thought a moment then dialed Labors of Love again. “Good afternoon. You’re reached…” “It’s me again. Look, I know it’s against protocol and confidentiality and all that, but you have to help me, please. I need to know Ryan’s real last name. I had his personal number but I’ve … lost it and I absolutely need to reach him.” Monica knew how desperate she sounded and that it was this kind of creepy, stalker behavior from which the agency was protecting its providers. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t help you. There are strict policies…” “Yes, I know that, but you don’t understand. This is different.” Oh God, she must sound like a lovesick loony. “If you can’t tell me his name, is there at least … isn’t there some…?” A thought suddenly struck her and she collected herself, trying to sound sane and calm. “Never mind. I wonder if I could make an appointment with Travis instead.” There was a very long pause and Monica thought she could hear the receptionist’s doubt in the silence. “I’ll check.” Almost immediately she answered. “No. It appears Travis is solidly booked for the next several weeks. I can’t help you. ” The line went dead. Monica hung up, frustration boiling through her. There had to be a way to reach Ryan because from all the signs it appeared that he liked her. He really liked her! He had wanted to be with her all those times. What else could it mean? Except if he was interested, if he cared, why hadn’t he said something? And how could she explain away Travis’s involvement? She kept coming back to that. Her mind was in turmoil trying to find a way to make it all make sense. It occurred to

her that perhaps there was some scheme that she was completely overlooking. Maybe these two men had secretly videotaped their sexual encounters with her and were making money broadcasting footage over the internet right now! Or maybe they were going to blackmail her with it. But why hadn’t they billed the dates through the agency so they would get even more money if money were what they were after? No. It didn’t make sense. Besides she knew Ryan better than that. She didn’t believe he had a duplicitous nature. She thought back over their time together, pulling apart every moment, dissecting every gesture, every nuance of his voice when he spoke and she didn’t find anything but affection and caring. He liked her! It was the only possible motivation for those uncharged assignations. And he hadn’t let her know how he felt because…? She thought about the last time they spoke, how she had berated him for trying to give her advice. “I don’t need advice from a…” Her words rang in her head and she recalled glancing at his face for a reaction and seeing a brief flicker of something before his features became neutral. My God, she had hurt him. He had been trying to be nice introducing her to Travis and giving her a memorable fantasy because he knew he wasn’t going to be available anymore and she had shamed him. Holy shit. Why hadn’t he simply told her early on that he was interested? It would have made everything so much easier. She tried hard to see things from his point of view and like a mathematics problem that finally made sense, things began to click into place. It was because of how they met. He thought she was looking for no strings, sexual entertainment and had tried to give her only that, while his heart was slowly opening to her. And she had been too goddamn self involved and plain dumb to see it. Conversely, she could say that he had been pretty blind not to read her signals, too. Monica suddenly laughed out loud, frightening Amber, who was digging in the dirt of a house plant, so that she shot across the room and under a chair. My God, they were both so stupid! She shook her head and stopped laughing as she realized it really wasn’t that funny. So they cared for each other. What good was it if she was the only one who had figured it out? She had absolutely no way to reach Ryan again without a last name, phone number or address. They lived in a huge metropolis surrounded by thousands of people. Unless he chose to come to her she might never see him again. For a moment she felt completely hopeless, ready to break down and cry. Then Monica got angry. No way was she going to let the possibility of love slip through her fingers so easily. There had to be clues she could use to track him down, things he had said about his life that would lead her to him. She knew he was a student, probably at one of the community colleges nearby from what he had said. She knew he lived within twenty minutes of her house because he had commented on the distance. She knew that his grandmother was in a geriatric facility within about an hour’s drive, and from what he had said it was an upscale nursing home, which would explain why he was so strapped for cash. What else did she know about him? He had another job and he was a woodworker. It wasn’t faulty logic to assume that he might be working construction, especially since the last time she had seen him he smelled like sawdust. Sawdust and man sweat. Her senses instantly recalled the pheromone-rousing odor of his skin and the taste and the feel and… Okay, focus, Monica. She would start by pouring over the phone book looking up her options for colleges,

nursing homes and construction companies. And then she would begin making phone calls. If none yielded results, she would storm the Labors of Love office and demand more information from them. Somehow she would find Ryan again even if she had to travel all over the city to do it. **** Living without Monica was harder than Ryan expected. He’d been too busy to think about her much. She was only in his mind as he sat in class trying to concentrate on the professor, or when he measured, cut and hammered wood together, or while he created pornographic images with his voice over the phone line, or ate his meals, or visited his grandmother, or late at night when he lay in bed trying to catch a few hours of sleep. But those were the only times he thought of her. When Ryan deposited his last Labors of Love paycheck, he thought hard about how he had earned the money. For the most part he felt he had earned it. But he knew he couldn’t take payment for even those first two times with Monica no matter how useful the cash would be with Gram’s medical bills starting to come due. He thought about his last conversation with Monica and how she had basically called him a whore, which shouldn’t have bothered him so much since that’s exactly what he was, except that it had. He decided the only way he would stop feeling bad would be if he gave her back the rest of her money. By now she would probably have figured out from her credit card statement that the last two dates had been freebies, but to clear himself completely from the sense of debt he would need to return all of it—at least his share of it. He didn’t feel he owed her the agency’s cut. He withdrew several hundred from his bank account, placed it in an envelope, scrawled a quick note and drove by her house long after midnight, jogged up the path to her house and slipped the envelope in her mailbox. Driving away he felt much better and lighter than he had in a long time. Maybe he could finally begin to let his obsession with Monica go. **** By early afternoon of the second day of her search for Ryan, it was clear to Monica that she was getting nowhere with her phone calls. She wasn’t going to locate Ryan that way. She was going to need to go to some places, talk to some people personally to attempt to weasel information out of them. In order to do that she would need a car, which meant she would need Lisa—which meant she would need to explain everything to Lisa, or at least parts of everything in order to borrow her car. Monica didn’t even stop to think about panic attacks when she planned out her mission. She called her sister at the gallery where she worked and asked her to stop by on the way home. “Are you okay? Has something happened?” “Yes, but not a bad something. Don’t worry. ” After the call Monica spent some time writing because no matter how obsessed she was with Ryan, she still had to pay the bills. About an hour later she stepped out on the front porch to get her mail, and hopefully some more of those nice checks she was expecting from some of her articles. She shuffled through the envelopes, separating out junk mail from bills and correspondences.

Suddenly she came across a white envelope with only her name scrawled on it. Her heart leaped to her throat and she dropped the rest of the mail on the porch floor as she opened the message with trembling hands. Inside was a sheaf of twenty dollar bills and a folded piece of paper. She opened it and read. Monica, I’m sorry. I wish we had met under different circumstances. Here’s the rest of what I owe you. You’re beautiful and sexy and I hope you find someone who appreciates you. His signature was a capital R with some squiggles after it. Something about his crappy, awful handwriting was so endearing and sweet that Monica burst out crying and laughing at the same time. She couldn’t believe that he had stood here, probably last night while she was asleep, and put this note in her box. My God, the irony and missed opportunity was beyond any movie farce. She sat down on her front step and shook with hysterics. “Are you all right, honey?” She heard a querulous voice call out. Monica dried her eyes and looked up. Mrs. Ridge was peering across the hedge. Monica’s first impulse was to politely brush her off. Instead she found herself saying “No” and burst into fresh tears. Mrs. Ridge came over by way of the sidewalk and sat down beside Monica. She put an arm around Monica’s shoulders, patting her arm and murmuring soothing, motherly things, which only made Monica cry harder. “Now tell me what’s the matter, dear. Boyfriend trouble?” “Y-yes.” She waved the note in the air. “I don’t know how to find him, and now I know he likes me too and there’s nothing I can do about it.” The old woman didn’t question the circumstances, simply asked, “What do you know about him?” “That he loves his Gram and she’s got Alzheimer’s and she’s in a nursing home somewhere not more than an hour away, but I don’t know the name of it or her or anything.” She sniffled and rubbed her eyes. “Well, a young man who wants his grandmother to receive the best care in the nicest place around would most likely choose Rose Arbor over in Westwood, although Sunset Hills is another good possibility.” Monica blinked and stared at her. “Sweetheart, I’ve done my research. When I can’t live in my own home anymore I want to know where I’m going.” “Rose Arbor?” Mrs. Ridge nodded. “Check that first.” Monica leaned over and hugged her hard. “Thank you!” Just then Lisa pulled up in front of the house and jumped out of her car. “What’s going on? You sounded way too worked up over whatever it is so I knocked off work early. ” “Great! I need a ride.” “What? Where?” Lisa walked up the path, a bewildered expression on her face. “I’ll explain on the way. Let me get the address so we don’t get lost.” Before the door closed behind her, Monica heard Mrs. Ridge explain to Lisa, “She’s in love. She has to find her young man. ” ****

The dining room at Rose Arbor was elegant with a subdued rose-patterned carpet and attractive landscapes in gilt frames adorning the walls. A hushed murmur of elderly voices filled the room. If half the people sitting at the tables hadn’t been in wheelchairs or wearing bibs, it would have seemed like merely a social gathering of the over-seventy crowd. Ryan patted Gram’s chin with a napkin then sat back in his chair. The meal was actually quite good and reminded him again of why he was paying so much to keep her at Rose Arbor. He had eaten his dinner and part of hers and now he was working on getting her to eat a small dish of ice cream. One of the staff members stopped by their table. “Can I get either of you anything, Mr. Hayes?” “No, thanks, I think we’re almost done here.” He scooped another spoonful of ice cream and offered it to Gram but she was closemouthed and staring fixedly across the cafeteria at nothing in particular. He finished the ice cream. He took Gram by the arm and led her back to her room, telling her his schedule for the week. He always talked to her as he used to, acting as if she might understand him. “So, I won’t be able to visit for a while. That’s why I’m here on a weekday. My job is going pretty good. It’s spring—everybody’s building something. I only have a few more months of classes the n I’m out for the summer so I can work full time. Might take a summer class or two though.” He chatted all the way back to her room then settled her in a chair and put on some music for her. When he turned from the stereo system, she was standing looking at him expectantly. “You want to dance?” He took her in his arms, thinking that her body felt like a dry fall leaf that might crumble and blow away at any moment, and he danced her slowly around the room to the rich, melting voice of Nat King Cole. Afterward she was content to sit in her chair again. He kissed her cheek and whispered his goodbye. **** “Hello,” Monica said to the receptionist of Rose Arbor. “I’m here to visit a friend’s grandmother but—well, it’s kind of complicated, but I’m not sure of he r name.” She smiled brightly and tried not to look as insane as she sounded. “All right. I’m going to need a little more information than that.” The receptionist smiled back, ready to be helpful. “My friend’s name is Ryan. You’ve probably seen him here visiting his Gram. He’s about this tall,” she demonstrated, “with sandy hair and very blue eyes. A beautiful smile and…” The receptionist was already nodding. “Of course. Ryan was here to take Pearl to dinner but he’s gone now. He just left as a matter of fact. But of course, you came to see Pearl, and her last name is the same as his by the way. She’s in room 112. That’s down the hall to your left in the Alzheimer care wing. And your name was…?” “M-Monica Brennerman. ” She felt turned to stone. “And this is my sister, Lisa.” “Hey.” Lisa held up a hand. They walked down the hall, Lisa complaining all the way. “I can’t believe you’ve been dating this guy without telling me. Honestly, Monica, meeting someone in a chat room and inviting him to come to your home? I don’t have to tell you how incredibly

dangerous that is! But the weirdest thing is that you never got the guy’s last name. How do you know he even wants to see you again? This is bordering on really, really creepy. ” Monica knocked on the door of room 112. It was slightly ajar as were all the doors in this wing so that the attendants could keep tabs on the patients. Inside she saw a slight woman with thin white hair, sitting in an armchair gazing out the window. Glen Miller was playing on the stereo. “Hello? Gram? ” Monica said, walking into the room. The woman turned and smiled when she saw her. “Becky! I’ve been waiting for you for such a long time. How are you? ” “Fine.” Monica hugged the frail old body. “I’ve missed you too.” She turned and wandered around the room, stopping to look at the framed photos lining the dresser top. “Monica!” Lisa hissed, “You can’t do this!” “This is him.” Monica thrust the picture of Ryan, a few years younger but recognizable, at her sister. “He’s a baby!” “Well, he doesn’t look like that now! That’s an old picture, but it’s him.” She turned back to Pearl and offered her the picture. “Ryan. ” “Yes. That’s my Ryan. Emily’s son, you know. I did a poor job raising that girl. Guess I was too caught up in my own life. But Ryan, he’s my pride and joy. I’ve never seen a sweeter child, and I’m not just saying that because he’s my grandson. ” An attendant popped her head in the door. “Good evening, Mrs. Hayes, and how are you this evening? Having guests, I see.” “Hi. I’m Monica, a friend of Ryan’s.” “You just missed him. He was visiting earlier.” The attendant came into the room. “Yes, so I heard. He has such a long drive over here.” Monica smiled. “But he makes the effort. There’s a lot of them that hardly ever come to see their folks once they get them settled here.” She shook her head. “But Ryan, works, takes classes at Tri- Tech and still makes a visit out here every couple weeks.” Monica smiled wider. Double score. She now knew his last name and which community college he attended. Now if she could just pin down his address, because she had a feeling she wouldn’t find him in the phone book. But she was stumped. She simply couldn’t think of the right question to ask. “I went to Tri- Tech myself. ” The attendant, whose name was Mariah according to the tag on the front of her jacket, coaxed Pearl to take a pill and then offered her a cup of water. “I was studying to be a physician’s assistant but I ended up working with geriatric patients instead.” “It takes the right temperament,” Lisa offered. “Speaking of Tri- Tech. I know it’s a community college, but isn’t there any housing nearby for students? My friend is looking into going there but she doesn’t want to commute from home.” “Not really. There are some rat trap apartments, but it’s not the safest area to live.” She laughed. “I used to room with a couple of other girls on Patterson—only about a block down from where Ryan lives as a matter of fact. Small world.” “Yes, I’m always having odd coincidences like that.” Monica couldn’t stop grinning and Mariah looked at her curiously. Monica went to Pearl, stooped and hugged her once more. “Goodbye Mrs. Hayes. I’ll come again soon. ” “Bye-bye, Becky. ”

Once they were outside the building, Monica whooped and put up her hand for a high- five. Lisa tentatively slapped it. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? ” “Oh yeah! Now we drive to Patterson and cruise up and down the street until we see his Jeep.” “Honey, I hate to be so negative, but what if you’re wrong? What if you go to all this trouble, find him, and he doesn’t want to see you?” Despite her confidence Monica’s heart gave a lurch at the words but she replied, “Then I’ll feel like an idiot and go home again. But I have to try. ” **** Ryan closed the book resting on his chest and flicked off the TV in the middle of the game. He had done all the studying he could do at home. He needed to go on campus to the library for research materials and the computer lab to write his paper. It was the last thing he felt like doing tonight after a full day of classes and driving over to visit Gram, but he didn’t see any other blocks of time where he could fit in preparing this paper. He grabbed his keys off the kitchen table and an apple, slung his backpack over his shoulder and picked up the garbage bag that needed to be taken to the street. He trotted down two flights of stairs and out the front door of the building. Finally he’d been able to secure a prime parking spot right in front. He hated walking half a block to get from where he’d parked to his apartment. He had bit into the apple and was holding it in his teeth as he struggled to jam his trash bag into the can, when he heard his name called. “Ryan. ” He turned and there she was, the object of his still unresolved obsession, standing in the glow of a streetlight. Beautiful, petite, intense, Monica. On his street—at night— outdoors, while he stood there with trash in one hand and a metal lid in the other and his mouth stuffed full of apple. Over her shoulder he glimpsed another dark- haired woman, similar enough for him to guess it was her sister. Then his eyes slid back to Monica. Here. Now. Smiling at him. And coming toward him. He let go of the trash, dropped the lid with a clatter on the sidewalk, tossed the apple aside and opened his arms for her to walk into them. She felt impossibly real and warm enfolded in his embrace. He squeezed her almost too tight to make sure he wasn’t fantasizing this. She let out a little squeak. His face buried in her neck, he breathed her in. “You’re here.” “Yes.” “Why? How?” He pulled away to look into her eyes and stroke the hair back from her face. “It wasn’t easy. I had to track you down. And as for why, because I don’t think we’ve even scratched the surface yet. Do you? ” He grinned and shook his head, suddenly too choked up to speak and feeling an embarrassing prickle of tears in his eyes. “Will you do me the honor of taking me out on a date sometime?” she asked gravely. “Now that I’m going out again.” “I will,” he answered with equal solemnity. “This is my sister, Lisa, by the way,” Monica said, gesturing over at the girl on the

sidewalk with her arms hugged around her body. “She helped me look for you. ” Ryan nodded and Lisa gave a little wave. “I’m glad you came,” he said, resting his forehead against Monica’s. “I didn’t think you could.” “I guess I can do anything given the right incentive.” She pressed her lips to his. He responded, his mouth opening and claiming hers possessively. They kissed until they were breathless then Monica pulled back. “I have one question for you, ” she whispered. “What about Travis? Why did he—you know—without getting paid?” “I told him I’d help him build a deck in his backyard,” Ryan explained. She shook her head. “For me? I can’t believe it. Why would you do that?” “I wanted you to have what you wanted, to make you happy. ” “This is what I want,” she said, rising on her toes to press her lips to his again. “This is what makes me happy. ” “Then this is what you’ll get,” he replied, hugging her so hard he pulled her up off her feet. “Okay, break! Time out. I’m right here, standing like ten feet away. I can’t take much more of this,” Lisa said. “Can I leave now? It looks like you have a ride home when you need it.” “I’m sorry, ” Monica turned toward her sister, but without moving out of the circle of Ryan’s arms. “My bad. Thank you so much for driving me all over today. ” She glanced up at Ryan. “Do I have a ride home? You look like you were about to go somewhere.” “I have a paper to write. I was going over to the campus but it doesn’t matter.” “Of course it matters. You go ahead and do what you need to do. This,” she gestured between them, “can wait. I know where you live now and I’m not letting you get away again.” **** Monica watched the muscles in Ryan’s back ripple as he hammered nails into her trellis. Ooh, didn’t that have a naughty sound? It was barely summer but already his skin was tanned and the highlights in his hair sun-brightened from the hours he spent outdoors every day. She sipped her lemonade and watched him lift the trellis upright and position it in place, giving it a shake to make sure it was solid. She could have gotten up to help him lift it, but watching was so much more fun. “There you go,” he said, stepping back to admire his work. “Do you want a coat of paint, a stain or to leave it natural? ” “Natural is fine. I’m going to have morning glories covering it before the end of summer.” He sauntered over to the table and picked up the other glass of lemonade. The condensation on the glass dripped onto his chest, mingling with the sheen of sweat already there and Monica felt a corresponding wetness between her thighs. She had turned into such an awful horndog. Her pussy was doing all of her thinking for her these days and her brain seemed to have gone on permanent vacation. Catching her avid look, Ryan set down the glass and reached out his hand to pull her to her feet. He twirled her and danced her around the patio for a few steps then kissed her deeply, pressing her up against his sweaty body. Her fingers tangled in the damp hair at

the nape of his neck. “You ready for this evening?” he asked. “I think so,” she said. They planned to go to Barb’s wedding reception where Ryan promised she wouldn’t have time to have a panic attack because she was going to be so out of breath from dancing. “Wedding today. Maybe Hawaii next month, ” she said. “Of course I’d feel better about it if you’d let me take you along. ” “You’ve done too much for me already. ” His tone bordered on sharp. “But I want you to go with me.” She tried to think of a way to convince him that it wasn’t charity for him to accept a plane ticket. “Maybe I can work some overtime and scrape together the money. I’ll see what I can do.” She dropped the subject, knowing his pride was at stake. He freely admitted that it was hard for him to accept her financial help, especially given the circumstances of how they met. Monica hugged him tight and rested her head on his hot, hard chest. She never grew tired of listening to his heartbeat. “Never mind,” she said. “Forget Hawaii. Let’s just concentrate on getting through tonight.” “Tonight,” he repeated, his voice rumbling against her ear. “What are we telling your relatives about how we met?” “You … came to fix my trellis.” “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” he quipped. “You fixed my trellis,” she drawled suggestively, “then we started talking. We hit it off and you asked me out on a date. That’s all true.” She remembered their first “dinner and a movie ” together and how the evening had ended with another sex- fest. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. “Then I moved into your house less than two weeks later. God, they’re going to think I’m a gold digger.” Laughing, Monica pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes. “First of all, I don’t have any gold to dig and second, if my relatives are going to think anything it’s that I’m a cradle robber. I mean, look at you. ” “Christ, Monica, I’m only five years younger. You’re hardly an older woman and we look the same age. Quit harping on it.” He frowned. “Are we fighting? ‘Cause this feels like a fight,” she said. He sighed. “No. We’re not fighting, just expressing our opinions strongly.” He pushed a stray curl back from the side of her face and leaned in to kiss her. “You know how much it bothers me that I’m mooching off you. ” “You’re not. You contribute to the household expenses and you fix things all the time. So what if right now I’m the primary wage-earner. It won’t always be like that. And even if it was—who cares.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes, staring somewhere in the region of her neck. Monica dipped her head into his line of sight, forcing him to look at her. “We both have issues to deal with about the way we met, but I know we can move past them. ” He met her eyes with his amazing, ice-blue ones and, after a moment, nodded. “You’re right. We’ll be fine.” Again he leaned in to peck her lips then pulled back to murmur. “God, older women are so wise.” She slapped his chest. “Shut up, you young pup, before I spank you. ”

“Would you? ” He kissed her so hard, long and deep that Monica’s head was spinning by the time he pulled away and went to take care of his tools. She watched Ryan packing up the tools for a moment then examined her newly restored trellis. She smiled, picturing Ryan building Travis’s deck. She still found his determination to serve her like that unbelievable. After he had finished his clean up, Monica grabbed him from behind, threw her arms around his neck and said, “Tell me again how you felt when you saw me with Travis.” “I wanted to tear off his head and drop kick it down the street.” He unhooked her arms from his neck and pulled her around in front of him. “And at the same time I wanted to help him fuck you senseless. It was complicated.” “Caveman, ” she teased, arching up on the balls of her feet to kiss him. He lifted her up, she wrapped her legs around his hips and he carried her through the door to the kitchen where he set her on the counter. “Let me wash up first.” He quickly washed his hands and splashed water on his face, dried off then moved back between her legs to plunge his tongue between her parted and waiting lips. His mouth was hot and the sweet-sour lemonade flavor on his tongue tasted like sunshine to Monica. He pulled away and said, “Now your turn. Tell me again what it felt like when I ‘raped’ you. ” “Like you had all the power and everything was out of my control. But instead of panic I felt exhilaration and …arousal. ” “Arousal, huh? ” He grinned and picked her up from the counter with a growl then carried her to the bedroom. He tossed her carelessly on the bed and shimmied out of his jeans. She loved watching him emerge from the denim, his hips and flanks, well- muscled legs and his cock, already hard and ready to go. She quickly stripped her bathing suit top and shorts and lay naked and quivering. She licked her lips and watched his muscles flow like water as he climbed up on the bed. The mattress sagged beneath his weight and Monica anticipated her body being covered by that same weight. She loved the way he felt on top of her. He crawled up her body, growling in his throat like a wild animal. The primal sound raised gooseflesh on her arms. He pinned her arms on either side of her head and dove at her neck, kissing and tickling in equal measure, while she twisted and giggled beneath him. “Stop it. Stop!” She shrieked, squirming against his heavy body and pounding on his back with her fists. She squirmed more than she probably needed to because she just loved the way his skin felt sliding over hers and she knew it aroused the hell out of him. The hard evidence was pushing against her groin. She was breathless when he finally stopped toying with her. He rested his folded arms on her chest and leaned against them, looking into her eyes. “Now tell me what you thought when you first saw me,” she asked. “I love to hear that.” “Vain,” he teased. “You know what I thought.” “Say it again.” His eyes sparkled as he complied. “I thought, ‘Jackpot! This is going to be the easiest job I ever had in my life. I can’t believe I’m going to get paid for this.’”

Monica laughed. Ryan leaned down and kissed her once more then pulled away, “But I found out it was one of the hardest jobs I’d ever had because I couldn’t control my emotions like I was supposed to.” “Because you fell in love with me,” Monica whispered like a child reciting “and they lived happily ever after.” “Because I fell in love with you, ” he repeated. Then they stopped talking. Ryan kissed her dizzy once more then moved down to stroke her breasts. He pinched and pulled her nipples, rolling them between his fingers. Monica gasped and arched into his hands. She loved rough stimulation of her tits. Ryan pulled one pink nub into his mouth and sucked it hard. She cradled the back of his head, relishing the feel of his thick, shaggy hair that always seemed to need a cut, and held him close. After ministering to each of her breasts, Ryan moved farther down to attend to her clit. He was a master of orally pleasing her, licking and sucking the sensitive nerve bundle until she was shaking with need and thrusting against his mouth. He didn’t bring her off, but moved up her body until he was suspended over her again. He guided his penis to the entrance of her slippery, wet channel and pushed inside. Ryan moved inside her with an easy pace. Monica arched to meet his thrusts. Her hands ran up his smoothly muscled back and hooked over his shoulders, holding on tight. Their mouths fused together in a long, lingering kiss while their bodies moved in relaxed unison as though to unheard music, slowly rocking their way to climax. **** When Monica woke, late afternoon sunlight was shining through the window giving everything in the room an orange glow. They had fucked and drowsed the afternoon away and now it was time to get ready for the wedding. Monica stretched until her back cracked then looked over at her shiny, new boyfriend sleeping peacefully by her side. Ryan lay on his stomach with one arm draped casually over her belly. His eyelashes rested in two dark crescents against his cheeks. She wanted to kiss his eyelids and feel the lashes flutter against her lips. His hair was a tangled mess that begged her hands to finger-comb it. She loved the way it felt sifting between her fingers. The naked expanse of his back, butt and legs was a landscape she would never tire of exploring and touching. His skin was so smooth, stretched tight over lean muscles, but she knew now where scars marred the perfection. He was no longer a flawless catalog model to her, but a real, flesh and blood man who loved her. He was sweet, thoughtful, attentive and loving. He was also hard-headed, sloppy, chronically late and so tone-deaf she had to ban singing in the shower. She remembered how devoid of color and vibrancy her life had been before she met him and was grateful for the miracle that had allowed her to find him. Ryan stirred and woke. “Time is it?” he asked through a yawn. Monica replied, “Time to get ready to go out.”

The End About the Author: I have a dirty secret. I’m as big a fan of movies and TV series as I am of books. In addition to countless movies, my DVD library includes all seasons of Buffy, Angel, Northern Exposure, Freaks and Geeks, Dead Like Me and Sex and the City. I just love a good story in any form. Admitting an addiction is the first step to recovery, right? And I love romance—the quirkier the better. My protagonists are flawed women, and my handsome heroes are not he- man alpha males. I’m much more intrigued by damaged boy- men like Tom in my upcoming Liquid Silver release Bone Deep or Ryan the floppy- haired, easy-going escort in Home Bound. I hope you enjoy these men too. For my other books, check out my website, www.BonnieDee.com I live with my husband, three daughters, two dogs and three cats in a happy home in southwest Michigan where the winters are too long, but the summers are beautiful.

Meet Lsb Authors At Silver Net, Aka The House Of Sin Http://Lsbooks.Net We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com for other exciting erotic romances. Featured Series: The Zodiac Series: 12 books, 24 stories and authors Two hot stories for each sign, 12 signs The Raven Series by Rhiannon Neeley Seven books about the brooding Raven family of vampire hunters The Coven of the Wolf by Rae Morgan Benevolent lusty witches keep evil forces at bay The Max Series by JB Skully Meet Max, her not-absent dead husband, sexy detective Witt, his mother… And many, many more!