The Merry Widow

THE MERRY WIDOW by

Adriana Kraft

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS Whiskey Creek Press PO Box 51052 Casper, WY 82605-1052 www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright © 2007 by Betty Vos & Robert Coates Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. ISBN 978-1-60313-175-9

Credits Cover Artist: Kendra Egert Editor: Jessica Darago Printed in the United States of America

Dedication To Ginger

Chapter 1 The lips pressing against hers were soft and pliant. They tasted of peaches. The tip of a tongue slipped out to trace the contour of her mouth, wetting her lips, causing Merry Delaney to fold in upon herself. It had been far too long. With eyes shut tight, she parted her lips slightly, responding in kind. A gentle sweep of passion filled her with warmth. The lips of peach became more eager, more insistent. A hand settled over Merry’s breast, and she focused her entire awareness on the nearly forgotten tingling sensation of her pebbling nipple. Good God, she’d missed that so. Practiced fingers wove their way underneath her blouse and inside her bra until they cupped a breast. Merry frowned. The kiss intensified and she redirected her attention to tasting those lips. An arm gathered her close. Breasts crushed against breasts. Merry’s eyes blinked and then sprang wide. She jerked out of the embrace and moved a foot or so down the length of the couch, away from her lifelong friend, Camille St. Jermaine. “What are you doing?” Merry felt her face flush with embarrassment. Camille patted her thigh. Merry shrank away. “Come on, Merry. It wasn’t just me. You were reveling in that kiss. I could feel it. So why did you stop?” 1

The Merry Widow Merry shook her head. Her shoulder-length hair failed to provide an adequate screen for hiding. “You’re right. I was enjoying it. But we’ve known each other since grade school.” “And for over thirty years I haven’t hit on you. I figured it was about time.” Camille blew raven bangs off her forehead. “Damn it, Merry, you can’t stay wrapped up in your self-made cocoon forever. Dan died eighteen months ago. I know for a fact you didn’t have sex for five years before that. M.S. killed Dan, Merry—don’t let it kill you, too. You stood by your husband. You sacrificed. You put your life on hold. Now it’s time to let go—try some new things. Take some risks. Live the life you’ve got left.” “You’ve said all of that to me ad nauseum since before Dan died.” Merry licked her lips. “But you’ve never kissed me— never tried to seduce me before.” “Maybe I got tired of talking.” Camille traced a pattern on the couch between her thigh and Merry’s. “You’ve known I’m bi for years. You never seemed to have a problem with that.” “Of course not. You’re my best friend.” Merry’s voice caught in her throat. “That’ll never change. But—” Her eyes rounded. “But you never thought of me in that way.” Merry shook her head. “You never thought of yourself with another woman.” “Not really.” “But you’re not repulsed by the thought of it.” Merry shrugged. “I’m not sure.” Camille chuckled and placed a hand on Merry’s thigh. Merry did not move. “I know you pretty well, girl. Sometimes maybe better than you do. You need to take that pretty blond accountant head of yours and go and figure things out. That’s fine with me. You know where I am.” 2

The Merry Widow Camille rose to her feet and reached back toward Merry, who let Camille pull her up from the couch. Camille kept both of Merry’s hands in hers. “You need to know I’ve wanted you for years. I’m not just coming after you to open you up, although I hope that happens. I’m coming after you because I love you and always will.” She shook her head. “I’m not seeking a permanent relationship—we already have that. I want to taste you and let you taste me. I want to show you how a woman can love a woman—totally and completely. I even want to help you find a man.” Merry scowled. “Don’t look so horrified. I’m not trying to keep you for myself. I’m just trying to coax you out of that cocoon of yours, and maybe have a little fun along the way.” Camille’s dark eyes lit up. “I don’t know if I ever recall you speechless. Come. Let’s send you on your way.” Camille led Merry to the front door, hand in hand. Merry turned to face her friend, struggling with what to say. How could she make an exit that wouldn’t insult her best friend? Camille leaned forward, and her lips brushed across Merry’s. Marshalling all of her strength, Merry resisted returning that kiss. “Go, girl,” Camille insisted, “before I do something I’ll regret. Let me know when you’re ready or want to talk.” Merry nodded and opened the door. Camille patted her on the rear as she stepped outside. **** It wasn’t until she was driving down the street toward her house that she allowed herself to breathe again. What was she going to do with Camille? They’d been best friends since the third grade, when they’d formed a bond to help each other 3

The Merry Widow withstand the threats of boys and the verbal abuse of girls. And now her friend wanted to make love to her. Good grief. She didn’t have any compunction about women being with women; she’d simply never thought of herself as being one of those women. But if the impact of that kiss was any indicator, she might have to reassess her thinking. Camille was right about one thing. It was time for her to get on with her life. That wasn’t news. She just hadn’t gotten around to doing anything about it. Inertia had set in, and it wasn’t easy battling inertia. Even her twenty-three-year-old daughter had been on her case for the past year about getting back into the dating scene. Merry shivered. She hated the thought of that. She’d never known what to do, even in the old days. And today? What did a forty-two-year old do on a first date—or on a tenth date, for that matter? She wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t have vast experience, either. She’d dated casually in high school. Daniel had been her first serious boyfriend—her first lover. She was barely out of high school when she discovered she was pregnant. There hadn’t been any men before him and none after. Merry winced. And there hadn’t been any women, before or after, either. They’d had a pleasant life. Daniel was not a reluctant husband. He’d been as excited about having the baby as she was. He was able to finish his accounting degree in four years, working part-time in the evenings. It had taken her nearly a decade to do the same, but she’d been tenacious about it. Their sex life had been ho-hum, certainly not demanding. There might not have been as many bells and whistles going off for them as Camille and others talked about, but she knew she was loved, and she’d expected the two of them to share a long and happy life together. 4

The Merry Widow Until disaster struck. Until the doctor pronounced those ugly words: multiple sclerosis. There had been many adjustments. Initially, to the very idea itself. Dan tried to be accepting, but that became harder day by day. First, there was the cane. And then a walker. And then a wheelchair. And then a bed. And then death. It was over too quickly. It took far too long, destroying much of the relationship they had worked so hard to foster. She’d set up her own business, operating out of their house so she could be nearby to take care of Daniel’s needs. There came a time when she regretted that decision. She’d needed to get away—just for a cup of coffee with Camille—but she felt guilty even thinking about being out of the house for an hour. But she’d survived all of that. Oh, she had plenty of scars left. There was still some guilt, but she’d survived. And her daughter and Camille were right. It was time to break out of her shell and join the world. Had she forgotten how to function as a whole woman? Had she ever really known? Sex. Merry laughed bitterly. She hadn’t had sex for much longer than Camille realized, and it wasn’t just due to Daniel’s physical limitations. He’d withdrawn emotionally long before he would’ve had problems physically. And that had hurt her more profoundly than anything else. She could’ve helped him, but he wouldn’t allow it. She could clean his bed and later his diapers, but he wouldn’t allow her to give him any pleasure. And thus he denied her the same. Merry slammed a fist against the steering wheel and fought back tears. For years, she’d cried more than enough tears to go around. She pulled onto her street. Yes, it was more than time to get out of the house and kick up her heels. But what was she going to do about Camille? Their friendship wasn’t at stake. Camille would handle a rebuff with grace. Her friend was offering her something, and she wasn’t 5

The Merry Widow entirely clear what that was. All she knew for certain was that she’d trust Camille with her heart and soul. Merry chuckled. Would she trust Camille with her body? **** Merry parked the red Lexus in her Glencoe driveway. She got out and breathed deeply. She loved the richly fragrant springtime air. One of the best decisions she and Daniel had ever made was purchasing this acre of land with its large old twostory house. Mature oaks and maples added to the sense of purpose and security of the place. This was home. Her home. And if she did kick up her heels and fall on her face in the process, she’d always have this place to return to. She stopped by a lilac bush and sniffed. She closed her eyes and let the scent waft into her nostrils. This would do. Life would be just fine. Camille loved lilac as much as she did. It was another passion they shared. Merry shook her head. Was she acting like a skittish teenager? She’d have to put her best friend out of her mind. They’d seen each other’s bodies nude countless times, so why was she now imagining Camille’s in such a tantalizing way? The crushed rock driveway crunched under the tires of a car entering. Merry cranked her head around as if she’d been caught doing something naughty. She compressed her lips. She didn’t recognize the modest gray sedan or the brawny dark-haired man prying himself out of the driver’s seat. He gave her a crooked smile and a nod and walked toward her. Sauntered, she corrected herself. “Mrs. Delaney? Mrs. Merry Delaney?” the man asked, reaching into his inner coat pocket and pulling out a badge. “Yes, I’m Merry Delaney.” Her breath caught. “What’s wrong? Is it Tiffany? Has something happened to my daughter?” The man shook his large head. He could pass for a Chicago Bears linebacker. His dark eyes penetrated. Was he staring into 6

The Merry Widow her soul? Was he stripping her naked? Where had that thought come from? So maybe he was just the first man to show up since she’d decided it was time move on. “I’m Detective Jim Barnes of the Chicago Police Department, Mrs. Delaney. I’m investigating a case that you may be able to shed some light on.” He looked around the front yard. “If it’s not too much trouble, could we step inside? This conversation might draw less curiosity if we conduct it indoors.” “Of course, Detective Barnes. Forgive me.” She reached for her keys and unlocked the front door. “Come on in. I’ll make some coffee.” “Don’t bother on my account.” “No problem. It’s already made; I just have to push a button. I almost always have some ready to go.” Now why was she rattling on so? Was it because she was unsure what questions he was going to ask? Or was it his physical presence? He was a solid male specimen—no question about that. And she couldn’t quite get away from him long enough to collect her thoughts. He’d followed her into the kitchen. That was okay. She was more comfortable in her kitchen than most anywhere else in the house. It was a large kitchen with every convenience she could get her hands on. She liked to cook—maybe that’s why Tiffany was establishing a catering business. She was a little self-conscious about the kitchen’s size. She knew some families lived in apartments not much larger. But she loved the large island sitting in the middle with pots and pans hanging overhead. She didn’t have a lot of time for cooking, so when she cooked she wanted her space well-organized and efficient. She noticed the detective taking in the entire setting. If he was impressed he showed no sign of it. His eyes raked up and down her body. Her red blouse and the white skirt that fell just above her knees should be conservative enough even for a cop. 7

The Merry Widow He seemed to focus on her lips. Could he tell those lips had just been kissed—by a woman? “You’ve got a real nice place here, Mrs. Delaney. You must like to cook. Or do you have a live-in cook?” Merry shook her head and grinned. “No, never that. I enjoy my privacy too much, even if I could afford it. And I do like to cook, when there’s time. And please call me Merry. Mrs. makes me feel older than I like to think I am.” “You don’t look too old,” he assured her. His lips thinned, perhaps passing for a smile. She wished she had some inkling of what was going on in the man’s head. This was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She reached into a cupboard for cups and poured coffee, then directed him to a stool at the island and pulled out one for herself. “So what can I do for you, Detective? I’m fairly certain you didn’t come here to just admire my kitchen.” Detective Barnes sipped his coffee and nodded. “You’re right about that. Damn, this is delicious coffee, ma’am.” He flushed slightly. “Sorry.” “Don’t be. I’ve heard the word before, that and a few worse actually.” “You do audits for a mid-size firm downtown called Fire and Ice Optics?” “Of course. Even though I work out of my home office, most of my accounts are with downtown firms. So what is this about?” “We’ve checked you out, Mrs. Delaney. You seem to be an above-board accounting agency.” “I should say so, Detective Barnes.” What was he after? And what kind of information had they collected? “I hope you’re not insinuating I’m a crook.”

8

The Merry Widow “You don’t carry unusual debt. You don’t make large cash deposits. You seem to have conservative tastes. You don’t appear to be living beyond your means.” Merry felt the color rising in her cheeks. “I should probably resent being so thoroughly investigated. Perhaps I should hire a private investigator and check you out.” Detective Barnes barely chuckled. “Doubt you’d find much that’s interesting about me. So no scandals, Mrs. Delaney?” “And that surprises you?” “That makes you potentially helpful in cracking the scum behind Fire and Ice Optics.” “Scum?” “We have a lot of circumstantial evidence that the mob may be using the firm as a front to skim funds for other mob-related activities.” Merry scowled. Wouldn’t she know if that were the case? Maybe not. “We need someone on the inside with knowledgeable eyes and ears.” “Why are you even telling me this? How do you know you can trust me?” Her eyes widened. “That’s why you’ve investigated me. You thought I was a crook.” “Now don’t get your dander up, lady. Of course we had to clear the accountant responsible for financial auditing. That person is always an obvious suspect. Sometimes he or she is the crook. We’re quite confident you aren’t. The question is, will you help us?” “Why should I?” Merry huffed. “You invaded my privacy. You impugned my client.” “We could talk about civic duty.” “Right.” “Or we could talk about running state audits on every firm you work with. Maybe even federal audits.” 9

The Merry Widow Merry folded her arms and grunted, “That’d only give me more work, more income.” “As your firms got wind of everyone being audited,” Detective Barnes smirked, “and I can guarantee they would, you might find yourself scrambling to keep your accounts.” “That’s blackmail,” Merry said, her voice rising. “You can’t do that. I’m a law-abiding citizen.” Detective Barnes raised his hands, palms up. “Be that as it may, we need someone on the inside, Mrs. Delaney.” She saw him hesitate. Maybe he was deciding on his next tactic with her. The beast. How could he do this to her? Threaten and cajole. “Mrs. Delaney.” He shook his head. “Mrs. Delaney, we believe the skimmed money is being used to sponsor drug dealers and pimps working the elementary schools.” Merry gasped. “Elementary schools! You mean—” “Precisely. Eight, nine, ten-year-old girls. Get ’em hooked on drugs and when they reach puberty, if not before, you have a precious commodity to sell over and over again. You raised a daughter, didn’t you, Mrs. Delaney?” “Of course I did. You know I did.” She rubbed her temples. Images of Tiffany during her elementary school years flashed behind her eyes. The detective had pushed the right button to get what he wanted, and they both knew it. “What do you want me to do?” “Nothing obvious. This is a long-developing case. You could blow it if you appear too eager or do things that are unexpected. We hope with this new info you might scrutinize the agency’s financial dealings through a slightly different lens. Often we don’t see something unless we anticipate seeing it. You may not recognize subtle fraud unless you’re expecting to find it.” “Yes, I think I know what you mean. How long do I have?” 10

The Merry Widow “As long as it takes. Here’s a card with my numbers. My cell phone and home number are probably best. Don’t hesitate to call at any time. I’ll check in with you at least weekly.” Detective Barnes stood to leave. Merry studied the man. He’d gotten what he wanted, but at least he wasn’t being smug about it. This was what he did for a living. So, he did it well. “Mrs. Delaney?” “You can call me Merry, remember? Now that you got what you came after, I guess we’re sort of partners, so please don’t call me Mrs. Delaney.” “Okay, Merry. I probably shouldn’t do this. It’s against departmental policy, but if I’m going to call you Merry it’ll seem odd to have you calling me Detective. My name is Jim.” “Okay, Jim. I’ve never been much for formality and titles.” “Merry, I do apologize for twisting your arm that way.” “No, you did what you had to do. I probably would have resisted otherwise.” She glanced at the detective’s whitening knuckles clenched on the edge of the island and frowned, raising her eyes to meet his. “You haven’t asked me about the danger level, Merry.” Merry’s hand flew to her throat. “Oh. I guess I’m so used to dealing with numbers and paper I didn’t think about it. So should I be frightened?” “Just be cautious. There are dangerous people behind the scenes. They seldom want to show themselves. The bigger risk is that they’ll get wind of our interest and just fade away into another gutter hole.” “So I should be discreet.” Merry rose to her feet to show the detective out. “Yes. This investigation has to stay between the two of us. Don’t tell your friends. Don’t let anything untoward slip at Fire and Ice Optics. Or else.” 11

The Merry Widow Merry opened the door for the man and laughed softly. “The way you say that—maybe I should be more frightened by you than by the mob.” The glower he gave her was undecipherable. “I’ll be in touch next week.” Merry closed the door behind the inscrutable detective. The mob. Had she been inadvertently aiding and abetting the mob? Judas Priest! She walked toward her first-floor office. The man had been downright intimidating at times, and she wasn’t easily intimidated. Or else. What the hell had he meant by that? And how thoroughly had he investigated her? Apparently quite thoroughly. Conservative tastes. She scrunched her mouth. She’d never thought of herself as having conservative tastes. Was that how the outside world saw her? Once in her office, she pulled the Fire and Ice Optics file. She thumbed through the pages. Nothing leapt out at her. She hadn’t really expected it would. She was trying to calm her nerves by staying busy. Detective Barnes and Camille on the same morning. The kiss. She absently ran a finger across her lips. She’d completely forgotten about Camille. She still could taste peaches. Maybe she hadn’t entirely forgotten her seductive friend. For such a conservative woman, she certainly felt like she was blindfolded, picking her way across a minefield. There was the mob. There was Camille’s enchanting embrace. And then there was the strange detective with the commanding presence. **** Detective Jim Barnes sat in his favorite stuffed chair watching the images flicker across his television screen. There was no sound. He preferred to watch baseball without the annoying patter of announcers. And the lack of noise gave him 12

The Merry Widow more room for thinking. He’d nearly fried his brain with thinking since leaving Merry Delaney’s house. He’d hated having to be so firm with her. He’d been surprised by the woman’s spunk. If he hadn’t played his trump card, she’d never have cooperated. Even the threat of full-scale audits hadn’t fazed her, not that he’d meant to do that so early in the process. It pleased him that the images of innocent girls getting turned on to drugs and sex had done the job. All the same, he didn’t like exposing the straight-laced Merry Delaney to the underbelly of the city. Yeah, he’d done his homework well on her. The captain never would’ve agreed with his harebrained scheme if he hadn’t. He’d turned over every rock he could find before confiding in her. Her daughter was a bit of a loose cannon, but other than that everything about the woman had checked out without suspicion. And she’d had a tough life—what with caring for a dying husband and all. He squinted at the TV. For a woman of forty-two, she’d stayed in pretty good shape. Many a younger woman would be jealous of her perky breasts and curvy ass. Not that he’d been looking at her in that way. She looked hot in that red blouse and white skirt. She probably didn’t even realize that. He lifted a bottle of beer to his lips and swallowed. What the hell was he thinking about? Merry Delaney would go to her grave with one love in her heart—her dead husband. He knew for a fact she didn’t date. So what? Neither did he. There hadn’t been a woman for two years. If he had to work closely with the Delaney woman, he might have to go out and get laid. That might take care of his raging hormones. Not that they raged as often at forty-six as they had at twenty-six.

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The Merry Widow Shit. He should retire and move to Arizona. He had enough time in. Younger officers could pursue the mob. Christ, the mob was going to outlast all of them anyway. A woman shouldn’t be blessed with that kind of body unless she was going to use it. “Calm down, old man. Cool your jets.” He sure hoped they could crack this case quickly. Then he could leave the shapely blond with sparkling eyes to take care of her mausoleum. That was a huge house for one woman to rattle around in. The question remained, how much could he trust the woman? If he hadn’t thought she was trustworthy, he would never have solicited her help. Still, it never hurt to cover his ass. Maybe he’d better follow her closely for a few more days, just to be certain she wasn’t running to the mob with her new information. **** Merry stared in disbelief at her daughter. “What did you say?” “I said, Mom, why don’t you get that vibrator out of the old cross-country ski sock and try it out? I’ll bet you never opened it!” Tiffany stood in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, glaring back at her mother. “You’re becoming more difficult to be around, Mom. If you don’t want a man, at least take care of your needs yourself.” “How did you know about the vibrator?” Camille had bought it for her years ago. She’d never bothered to open it. Using it would have sent her on a deeper guilt trip. How could she satisfy herself, if she couldn’t satisfy her husband? She’d forgotten the damn thing was still buried in a sock deep in a drawer, away from prying eyes. Or so she’d thought. Tiffany cocked her head to the side. Her close-cropped blond hair looked so sophisticated. Merry was a little jealous of 14

The Merry Widow her daughter’s looks and carefree spirit. How could that be right? “Mom, adolescents pry. Don’t you remember? You don’t know how many times I checked to see if you’d opened it. I wanted to try it out so badly, but there was no way I could use it if you didn’t rip it out of its package first.” Tiffany lips turned up in a half-smile. “If you must know, I haven’t checked in a number of years.” She arched her eyebrows in a smug look. “I haven’t had to. I got my own.” “When?” Tiffany shrugged her shoulders. “Sixteen, I think. Yeah, you got yours when I was fourteen. You’ve had it for nine years and haven’t used it yet! I waited two years and couldn’t wait any longer.” Merry slumped against the kitchen island. She couldn’t believe this conversation. “How?” “Aunt Camille. She understood.” “I’ll bet she did.” Merry froze. “Has Camille ever hit on you?” “Mom, of course not. No way, no how! She’s like family. I may get about a fair amount, but I’ve never thought of Camille in that way. Why?” Merry cringed under her daughter’s close examination. “Nothing.” “Nothing. Bullshit!” Tiffany smiled a knowing look. “Now wouldn’t that be something. You and Aunt Camille. That’d be perfect.” “How can you say such a thing?” Merry put on her oven mitts, opened the oven door, and pulled out the dinner rolls. “They look great, Mom. If there’s anyone who can help you get beyond the past several years, it’s Camille. She’s a gem.” “But she’s bi.” 15

The Merry Widow “What do you think I’m talking about? Do I look like an idiot?” “Of course not.” Merry shook her head and removed the oven mitts. “Sometimes I think the world is passing me by. I’m not sure I could date in today’s environment even if I wanted to.” “You’ll manage. Let me drain the pasta. Whatever you do don’t rush into a—quote—‘lasting relationship.’ You need some time for yourself. To explore. To decide what you want—not what some man wants.” “You sound like the voice of experience. I thought these mother-daughter conversations were supposed to go the other direction.” Tiffany chuckled. “You were always a year or two behind with them.” “Oh.” “So maybe we’re making up for them now.” “You know I tried my best, but with your father—” “I know, Mom. Believe me, I know. Let’s enjoy this newfound mother-daughter relationship. I really do believe I’ve gotten to know you much better since Dad died.” She frowned. “I’m not saying it was good for him to die.” “Of course not.” Merry moved to enfold her daughter in her arms. “But he died. And now there’s only us.” “Not true, Mom. Yes, there’s us, and there’s whoever I let into my life and whoever you let into yours. I’ve always thought Camille had the hots for you. She has such a tight body. It must be from all the jogging she does.” “Tiffany.” Merry tried not to sound exasperated. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about Camille that way. There’s nothing between us.” Tiffany’s mouth twisted into a smile. “I’ll bet that’s not her fault.” 16

The Merry Widow Merry threw up her hands. “So now I’m at fault for not going to bed with Camille?” “Don’t go psycho on me, Mom. I didn’t mean it that way.” Merry closed her eyes. She squeezed the bridge of her nose. Where was this conversation going? She opened her eyes and stared at the blank look on her daughter’s face. She pointed the serving fork at her. “So, Miss Know-It-All, have you been to bed with a female?” Tiffany laughed and hugged herself. “I was wondering if you’d find enough courage to ask. Yes—not often. But it was lovely each time. Less hassle and pressure than I’ve found with most guys.” She placed an arm around her mother’s waist. “It’s okay, Mom. If you want to be with Camille, do it. If not, that’s okay too. Though I personally think that would be a loss. But the most important thing is get out of this house and away from your bedroom. Have you ever thought of moving to a different bedroom? There are six in this big old house. I’d move if it were me. I’ve always liked the old solarium—you know, the dance room.” “Really? I haven’t stepped into that room for ages.” Merry smiled wistfully. “We did have some good times in there.” “You were always a better dancer than me, Mom. Do you ever wonder how your life might have been different if you had gone on to Julliard instead of having me?” “I’d make the same choice. You are the most special person in the world to me, Tiffany.” “But—” “No buts. Dance was a career option I chose not to take. We don’t even know if I’d have been any good at it.” “Julliard must have thought so to offer you a full ride. Anyway, there’s that big old room. Pretty much empty last time I peeked in there. I love the way it opens onto the gardens and 17

The Merry Widow that you put in three mirrored walls for my dance practice.” Tiffany stuck the tip of her tongue out at her mother. “Those mirrors have all sorts of possibilities.” “Huh?” “Erotic possibilities.” “Oh. Tiffany, will you stop, please!” She paused. Why hadn’t she thought of the solarium? It had been her favorite room before she’d turned it over to Tiffany. Maybe she should consider moving her bedroom. She could always remove the mirrors. She glanced at her daughter’s telltale grin. Or not. “I’ll think about the solarium. It does have a beautiful view of the back gardens. Maybe that’d help some.” “Hell, I might even sell the house, if it were me.” Merry’s hand flew to her mouth. “I couldn’t do that. This place is part of my soul.” Tiffany nodded. “I understand, just don’t let it be a millstone. If you’re going to keep it, then bring lovers here so it truly becomes your place—not something you share with a ghost.” “Tiffany! That’s enough! This conversation is finished. If I want any more advice regarding my love life, I’ll ask.” “That’s fine, and please do. Let’s eat.” Tiffany grabbed a plate and began ladling food. She glanced back up at her mother. “Remember. Lower right dresser drawer all the way to the back. In a big old cross-country ski sock, the silver bullet awaits.” Merry couldn’t stay vexed at the young woman who beamed at her with such hope and confidence. How had Tiffany survived those difficult years to turn into such a fine young woman? She’d tried to be the best mother she could, even with all the demands on her time. Camille had helped a lot. She’d gone to school plays even when Merry couldn’t. She’d helped with a lot of homework assignments. And apparently she’d been 18

The Merry Widow a better sounding board on sexual matters. Of course, that wasn’t saying much. Camille. Merry sighed and watched her daughter pull out a chair at the dining room table. She couldn’t seem to get away from the woman. And she had her daughter’s blessing! Now wasn’t that a hoot? **** At least the supper conversation had been less intrusive. Merry surveyed the leftovers. She’d have enough for lunch tomorrow. “Do you want to take some leftovers back with you?” Tiffany shook her head. “You know how much I hate leftovers. You enjoy them.” She stood to clear the table. “Do you want me to bring the books over this month, or do you plan on stopping by the shop?” “I’ll come by. I like spending time at the shop. You have some very creative people working for you.” Merry beamed at her daughter. “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you and your business acumen?” “Yes, just about every time we talk. You know I get it from both you and Dad. You’d think with two accountants for parents I’d be able to do my own books.” “You could do them, if you wanted to. You just try to keep me involved in the business some.” “Well, you should be. You’re the partner who provided the start-up money. I’m sure Dad never heard about that.” Merry ducked her head. “No, there was no need to trouble him about such things at that time.” Tiffany glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run, Mom. I’ve got a date at nine.” “At nine. Isn’t that awfully late for a date?” “Hardly. Who said there was a rule about when a date should start?” Tiffany grinned broadly at her mother. “When you do get back on the dating scene, you need to try a couple of 19

The Merry Widow young studs and maybe even some older guys. Don’t get stuck in old routines.” “Enough! Run along and let me think in peace and quiet.” “Okay, Mom. I love you. Give Camille a hug for me when you see her next.” “Right.” Merry watched the door close behind her daughter and then retreated to her kitchen to finish cleaning up. It didn’t take long before she had the dishes put away and the kitchen spotless. She’d been unable to put the conversation with Tiffany out of her mind—or, for that matter, the lingering taste of peaches that still mysteriously clung to her lips. She’d been in the middle of a huge decision when that detective had arrived. What to do about Camille? What had her daughter said? Lower right-hand dresser drawer, way in the back, stuffed in a red-and-white crosscountry ski sock.

20

The Merry Widow

Chapter 2 Merry left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to the bedroom she’d shared with Daniel for so many years. She could hardly remember all the apartments and townhouses they’d lived in before moving to the house. Upon entering the bedroom, she stripped and took a leisurely shower, trying to keep her mind blank. Her heart thumped faster, and her breathing ached. Still naked and dripping wet, she dried herself in the bedroom before the full-length mirror. For the first time in years, she examined herself. Not just for lumps, but for how she really looked. Would anyone find her attractive? For her age, she’d managed to stay in fairly decent shape. She should be. She worked out almost daily in the small gym in the basement. Her routine included using a ski machine and light free-weights. She’d never been into bulking up, but she wanted to keep her figure and her tone for health. That’s what she’d always told herself. She’d never imagined that same health and tone could attract a lover. She ran her palms over her breasts. She loved how they still stood upright. Maybe that was genetic. She couldn’t remember her mother ever having sagging breasts. She turned her head and peeked over a shoulder. Nice butt. Even Daniel had been fond of saying she had a tight ass. She’d never been sure if he enjoyed the pun or if he thought she was uptight. 21

The Merry Widow She ran her gaze down her mirrored reflection. The golden ringlets surrounding her pussy weren’t as thick as she thought they ought to be. She hadn’t seen a lot of women. She hadn’t been much different from anyone else during high school and college gym classes—furtively glancing around, checking out classmates, making comparisons. Discovering where they had abundance and where they were wanting. Merry always thought her labia were too pronounced and that if she only had more hair to cover them, they’d be less obvious. But then no one but she was looking anymore. She sighed. Was she ready to change that? She caught her reflection again. She’d often thought her eyes sparkled too much, giving away her inner desires. They sure were sparkling now. Merry grimaced and headed for the dresser. She knelt on the floor and reached way back in the right-hand lower drawer until she found the sock. She withdrew the packet containing the silver vibrator. Tiffany was right. The seal had never been broken. She grabbed a pair of scissors, sliced open the package, and lifted out the vibrator. She held it in her hand and frowned. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out how it worked. She glanced at the two batteries in the package. They’d never been used—what were the chances they’d be good after all these years? After popping the batteries in, Merry chewed on her lower lip and twisted the knob. The vibrator hummed to life. “Well, I’ll be damned. It may have more life than I do.” She’d never seen anyone use a vibrator. She scowled at herself in the mirror that hung on the wall across from the foot of the bed. She knew where the vibrator was supposed to go; she wasn’t quite certain how to get it there. 22

The Merry Widow Merry sat on the end of bed so she could use the mirror as an assistant. She placed the humming instrument against her abs and flinched. The thing had more umph than she’d expected. She played with the speed dial until the silver bullet trembled only slightly in her hand. Again, she placed it on her abs. “Not bad,” she said to her image in the mirror. She eased the vibrating object up her torso until it touched the underside of a breast. “Holy shit.” She covered a sensitive nipple with her hand and moved the vibrator across her breast. Her breath faltered. Why hadn’t anyone told her about this before? Camille had. But she hadn’t paid close-enough attention. Merry uncovered her nipple and approached it with the tip of the vibrator. Her entire breast vibrated. The engorged nipple stretched for contact with the instrument. She held the vibrator against the nipple for several long seconds until she couldn’t stand it any longer. When had her breast developed a direct connection to her loins? She recovered and stared at her pussy lips in the mirror. Was that moisture on them? Already? She lowered a hand and fluffed her curls. She hadn’t gone blind. She was wetter than she’d been in years, and the vibrator hadn’t even come close to her pubic area. She sucked in a breath. It was about time to rectify that situation. Staring wide-eyed at the mirror, she watched her hand guide the vibrator from her breast across her abs to her belly button. From there she could already feel vibrating sensations across her lower body. She recognized the power of teasing. So she skimmed the vibrator down the length of one thigh and up the other. “Oh my.” Her pussy seemed to lurch forward of its own volition, seeking its own pleasure. 23

The Merry Widow Merry took a deep breath and prayed she wouldn’t disappoint herself. She ran the tip of the love object along the edges of her pussy. She tensed, relaxed, tensed, and relaxed. Her forehead beaded with perspiration. She parted her nether lips and slid the humming instrument up her folds. She started to curl away, and then sat back squarely on the bed with her feet on the floor. She wouldn’t deny herself any longer. She poised the instrument at her opening and eased it forward. Her loins threatened to leap about. She pressed her buttocks to the edge of the bed and watched the long slim instrument disappear into her pussy. She threw her head back and closed her eyes and just as quickly opened them to refocus on her image in the mirror. She didn’t want to miss any part of this maiden voyage. She twisted the vibrator and eased it in and out little by little. Her own scent wafted to fill her nostrils. When had she ever been so completely sexually turned on? And then she felt it. A flame started to burn deep within her body. It flickered. It flared. She was coming to a boil—there was no doubt about it. She hadn’t climaxed in nearly a decade; she’d thought she was too old. “To hell with that thought,” she muttered. If she got much hotter down there she’d melt the damn vibrator. She watched her teeth bite down on her lip. She turned up the vibrator speed as much as she could handle and then grazed her enlarged clit with her thumb. Rocking back and forth on the edge of the bed, she struggled to focus on herself in the mirror. “Ah!” she screamed. She boiled over on the silver bullet and on her fingers. She came and she came. A couple drops of blood from her lower lip sanctified the moment. She hummed and shuddered like a human vibrator. Carefully she removed the instrument, turned it off and curled 24

The Merry Widow into a tight ball. She continued to boil over. Was there no stopping her? Would she boil dry? “My God,” she babbled. “I had no idea. No idea what I was missing. Thank you, Camille. After all these years, thank you.” **** Merry sat at her office desk staring blankly at a row of numbers. She jolted herself to attention. She had to finish going over these accounts; she had a report due to the company in three days. So why couldn’t she concentrate? She played back the scene that had taken place in her bedroom the night before, and satisfaction warmed her again. She should be relaxed; she’d slept very soundly. She punched some numbers into the calculator. It wasn’t the crescendo caused by the vibrator that clouded her vision. It was Camille. Or maybe it was the disturbing questions Detective Barnes had posed to her. She’d completely forgotten about him. Now there was a hunk. He could have stepped right out of one of the romance novels Camille had been giving her since well before Daniel died. They were supposed to help her stay in contact with the real world. That was a joke. Still, how could she have forgotten the formidable Detective Barnes? She cocked her head to the side. There was the unsettling conversation with her daughter. There was the amazing vibrator. And, of course, there was the peach kiss—Camille. She was going to have to deal with Camille, one way or the other. Merry scrunched her shoulders and stood. She left the office and walked down the first-floor hallway. Before a closed door, she paused and took a deep breath. She turned the doorknob and entered the well-lit solarium. Immediately, she was taken again by the view of her rose gardens and the waterfall. She’d always found the sounds of water quite relaxing when she was most tense or filled with dread. 25

The Merry Widow She slid open the patio door that led to the gardens. She inhaled and listened to the sounds—rushing water and chirping birds. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to these sounds? They used to feed her soul. After several minutes, Merry turned back into the solarium and saw her reflection in the mirrors on the remaining three sides of the room. Was it her imagination, or was the tension gnawing at her insides beginning to ease? This had been a perfect dance room. She’d so enjoyed teaching Tiffany. Merry sensed a shadow and cringed. The room had also embodied her broken dreams. For awhile she’d hoped Tiffany would fulfill her mother’s dream of a dance career. But Merry soon realized that while her daughter enjoyed dance, and it was good for both of them, Tiffany did not have the innate talent to forge a career out of the very demanding world of dance. Merry had backed off, allowing her daughter to find her own art. Tiffany was incredibly talented at preparing banquets, weddings, and parties. She’d hired a superb chef, but it was Tiffany who had the eye for the occasion, who could listen to customer fantasies and shape them into eye-catching realities. Folding her arms under her breasts, Merry assessed the room with a critical eye. It would make a bright, airy bedroom. Spacious. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors would have to go. Frowning, she recalled the mirror at the foot of her bed upstairs and how it had helped her with the vibrator. Maybe the mirrors could stay. She could decorate them. Or she could reduce them in size. No hurry on that decision. Merry smiled, flung her arms wide, and pirouetted. Yes, this could be her bedroom. And if she wanted, there would be plenty of room to practice old dance steps. That could help her stay in good health as well as any other physical routine. At her age, she could allow herself to dance without being overcome by 26

The Merry Widow misplaced hopes. She would dance for pleasure. What a novel idea. She drew herself up short and with firm resolve batted an eye at herself in the mirror. That’s not all she was going to do for pleasure. Not delaying a second longer, Merry hurried back to her desk and reached for the phone. Camille answered on the third ring. “Hello?” “Hi, Cam, it’s me.” “Hi, Merry, how are you this morning?” “Great! Couldn’t be better. Say, I wanted to thank you for the vibrator.” “Vibrator? Vibrator—You mean after all these years. Well, I’ll be damned.” Camille’s high-pitched laughter sent goosebumps across Merry’s shoulders. “I had no idea what it could do.” “I’m thrilled you finally used it. So what happened to bring this about?” “Ironically, Tiffany reminded me where it was. But that’s another story.” Merry paused long enough to wet her lips. She was on a roll; there was no turning back now. “A certain kiss also provoked this newly found interest. So I was wondering if you’ve got plans for this evening?” “Ah, I hoped that was the case. You’re it, girl. I have no other plans. Think you might need some help with that vibrator?” Merry smiled and didn’t hesitate. “Could be. You’re much more experienced than I am. I’m sure I have much to learn.” “No doubt. And I don’t have a teaching degree for nothing. I’m so pleased, Merry. You’ve made my day—no—my year. Damn, just the sound of your voice is making me damp. Why don’t you come over around seven? Plan on staying over. Hell, I don’t have any plans for the entire weekend.” 27

The Merry Widow “It’ll be a sleepover, like old times.” “It’ll be a sleepover,” Camille cackled, “but not exactly like old times. See you.” “Bye.” Merry set the phone back in its cradle, unable to ignore her trembling fingers. “Stop it,” she chided herself. “Don’t be a silly goose. You’re going to be just fine.” **** Throwing a couple of changes of clothes and personal items into a zipper bag, Merry was pleased she had no serious second thoughts. There were niggling questions around the edges of her consciousness. Hell, she hadn’t been able to concentrate on work for the entire day. But this might be her last chance to break out of the damn rut she’d fallen into for how long? Eighteen months. Six years. Twenty-four years. If she didn’t take the risk now, would she ever have another opportunity? She didn’t want to die without experiencing more of life. There had to be more to it then crunching numbers and being a caretaker. “Be straight with yourself, girl. You aren’t getting ready for the prom. You’re getting ready to be seduced. To make love with a woman.” Good grief. That didn’t bother her morally. Her best friend was bi. Even her daughter had been with other women. Did that make her bi? Merry scowled, pulled out another drawer, and grabbed some socks. She’d better hurry and get out of there. She didn’t want to get cold feet now. It was only sex. If she didn’t experience it now, she might be too old for it. Tiffany had advised her to try out some young studs and old guys before settling on any one man. She didn’t know the first thing about how to do any of that. But Camille would. 28

The Merry Widow She’d already had a partial hysterectomy so there were no fears about pregnancy, but there were all those nasty sexually transmitted diseases she’d heard about on the news. Merry glared at herself in the mirror. She’d go out and buy a gross of condoms. She could attest to what could happen without adequate protection. “Whoa,” she muttered, zipping up the bag. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, girl. This is Camille you’re going to.” Camille was as sensitive about STDs as anyone. And she wasn’t taking on all the males in the Chicago area tonight. Just Camille. Giving herself a last reassuring nod in the mirror, she retrieved the silver bullet and slipped it into the bag. It was time to step boldly out into a new world. Her sneaker skidded on the bare floor as she crossed the threshold of her bedroom. She caught herself on the doorjamb. Maybe she shouldn’t throw caution too quickly to the wind. She shook her head and walked briskly down the stairs and out the door. If she was going to do this, she was determined to enjoy herself. Wasn’t that what it was supposed to be about—pleasure? Besides, if she wanted out, she could always go back to what she had. Couldn’t she? **** “Thanks for taking things slowly,” Merry said, sitting across the small dining table from her friend. She hated to admit how nervous she’d been when she rang the doorbell. Camille had greeted her like she had thousands of times with a hug and peck on the cheek. She’d taken her by the hand and led her to the kitchen, where they’d finished preparing grilled chicken salad and opened a bottle of chardonnay. Conversation had been light, not nearly as stilted as she’d worried it might be. Camille lifted her glass in a toast. “No hurry. With your decision made, we want to savor this first time like well-aged 29

The Merry Widow wine. There never will be another first time for you with a woman.” Merry sipped her wine and hoped she’d successfully fought back a blush. This was her old friend. They’d bantered about anything and everything over the years. “I do feel a bit aged, if that helps.” “Why don’t we put the dishes in the sink, fill our wineglasses, and head upstairs and see what else develops?” “Okay.” Merry offered a wry smile. “I guess I’m as aged as I’m going to be.” **** “There’s no need to be coy,” Camille said, once they’d entered the huge bedroom tastefully decorated with two cushioned chairs, modern art, and an oversized soft pink bed. Pink frilly curtains matched the bed. A lush off-white carpet covered the entire floor. From where she stood, Merry also saw a bathroom, decorated in similar shades of pink. She smiled. Camille loved to decorate. Three months from now the entire ensemble might be done in blues, greens, or light brown. “Welcome to my love nest. Why don’t we get out of these clothes? We’ll start with a body massage.” She opened a cupboard beside the bed and pulled out two bottles of oil. “Can you do that?” “Sure. Seeing each other naked isn’t exactly new, but it has been a while.” Merry pulled her t-shirt over her head, and Camille did the same. They each reached for the clasps holding their bras in place. They both shrugged out of them at the same time. “Good God, Merry, you haven’t changed a bit. How do your breasts stay so firm? I’m envious. Mine have sagged some over the years. I love how yours turn up. They’re so perky. Those nipples are in perfect position for suckling. They must’ve 30

The Merry Widow been created for suckling. I can hardly wait to get my lips on them.” “I’m the envious one. You’ve always had more to work with than me. And look at these love handles, Cam.” Merry tugged on her waist line. “I didn’t have these ten years ago. I don’t understand it. Even with all the exercising I do I can’t make them go away.” Camille laughed. “Look at these, if you must. If love handles are needed for loving, then I’m in fine shape.” “I think you’re in very good shape, Cam.” Merry chewed on her lower lip as she watched her friend unbutton her skirt at the waist and step out of it. Silently, she shucked her own shorts. Her breathing became more ragged. Camille skimmed her panties down her thighs and legs, exposing a dark line of pubic hair. Merry stopped breathing and placed her thumbs in the waistband of her panties. Trying hard not to close her eyes, she leaned over and pushed the panties down her torso. Rising, she caught Camille’s admiring stare. “I’ve always liked how your pussy lips pout. I’d almost given up on the idea of ever tasting them. Turn around for me, please.” Merry did as requested. “Nice tight ass. I’d say you’re aging very well, my friend.” “Why don’t you turn around, Cam?” She did, and Merry flashed an approving eyebrow. “Your ass is firm, too. You’ve always had a great ass. Even Daniel thought so.” “That’s surprising. But you’re right, men and women seem quite enamored with my back porch. One guy thought he could balance a glass of milk on it, but I never let him try.” “That could get messy.” “Enough of this lollygagging. Why don’t you stretch out on the bed on your stomach and let me give you a massage?” 31

The Merry Widow Merry climbed on to the bed and laid her head on a pillow. “Here, put this pillow under your belly. That’ll help some.” “Okay.” “Now, simply close your eyes and relax. If you nod off, that’s all right too. We’re not hurrying to get anywhere.” Merry closed her eyes. Nod off. That was a remote possibility. “I’ll bet you keep tension in your shoulders and your lower back. Right?” “Uh-huh.” Warm fingers and warm oil soothed her shoulder muscles. Silently, Camille kneaded. She worked her fingers along the length of muscles and under the scapula. Merry felt herself go limp, giving her body over to her friend. Whatever Camille was offering, Merry was willing to accept. So how had Camille become such an expert masseuse? Camille worked on each of Merry’s arms and wrists. And she didn’t ignore her hands or fingers either. Merry hadn’t realized she had so many muscles and joints in her fingers. “I think we’re ready for the lower back.” Camille’s words penetrated Merry’s haze. The string of kisses the woman placed on her shoulders and spine reminded Merry why she was there. It wasn’t simply to receive a lovely massage. “Ah,” she moaned. Camille’s fingers worked on her lower lumbar region until there was no tension or feeling left. Merry heard Camille reach for more oil. Her buttocks were the next object of attention. Camille kneaded them thoroughly as if she did so every day. Merry stiffened and then relaxed. Her friend’s hands moved lower to massage thighs, legs, and calves. Even her feet and toes received their share of attention. She could sleep for a week. “There. Are you ready to turn over for me?” 32

The Merry Widow Merry couldn’t find a voice, but she did manage to roll on to her backside. Camille placed the pillow beneath her rear the way she wanted it. “Exquisite. You are a gift to behold,” Camille said, tracing a thumb along her neck muscles. Merry tried not to flinch when Camille squirted oil on her breasts. Fingers quickly joined the oils spreading the substance over and around both breasts. Merry held her breath. “So succulent. I can hardly wait.” Camille playfully tapped a nipple with an oiled finger. Merry’s eyes sprang wide. “Just checking to see if you were still with me.” “Oh, I’m here all right.” “Good. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to complete this massage without a little taste. May I?” Camille gestured toward Merry’s breasts. Merry parted her lips and nodded. She kept her eyes open and watched the dark head lower until Camille’s mouth encircled a nipple and part of a breast. Merry gasped for air. Camille suckled. Merry nearly shot off the bed and then settled, welcoming the suckling sensation and the oiled hand now working its way down to her abs. Was this a preview, or what? She opened her thighs and inched her breast deeper into her friend’s mouth. Then she felt cool air cascading over the wet skin that had been warmed by Camille’s mouth, leaving her suddenly bereft. Camille turned her head and smiled at her. “You’re going to be quite responsive. I knew you would be. But I do want to finish this massage. It’s almost a matter of honor.” Honor be damned. She wanted that mouth covering her breast. Oh my. Camille’s fingers had flitted across her pussy and she hadn’t even flinched. Merry gazed down her body. The back of Camille’s head blocked her view, but there was little doubt 33

The Merry Widow where the woman’s fingers were. They were kneading their way down one thigh and back up the other. Merry could feel her friend’s heavy breathing on her pussy. It pleased her to know Camille was as turned on as she was. She’d feared maybe her best friend was merely doing this to help her climb out of her shell. Merry placed a hand on Camille’s shoulders and traced their outline with her own fingers. “Jesus, woman,” Camille said, sliding back up alongside Merry. “Much more of your touching and I’ll take you right now. But I don’t want to rush you.” Merry gave Camille a half smile. “I don’t think I need any more aging.” She lifted a hand to Camille’s lips. “Take me. Please. I want you to show me how to please you. Would you kiss me?” “Of course. I’d love to.” Merry opened her lips slightly to greet Camille’s. Yes. They were as soft as she remembered. She smiled to herself. They still tasted of peach. They kissed and played tongue games for what must have been minutes, and then Camille covered one of Merry’s breasts with a hand. What to do? Merry didn’t want to break off their kiss, but she longed for Camille’s mouth to warm her breast again. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss and pushed gently on the ebony hair. Camille laughed softly. “It’s often a difficult choice when there are only two partners.” Merry blinked but refused to follow that line of thought. Camille fastened onto a raised nipple. Her suckling blotted out Merry’s ability to think; she could only experience. God, she’d never been suckled like this, as if her breast was the fruit of the gods. 34

The Merry Widow The lips backed away from her breast. Merry grabbed Camille’s head with both hands, urging her to return. She did. This time she parted her teeth and tugged on an engorged nipple. Merry slapped the mattress with one hand and kept the other firmly at the base of her friend’s neck. Camille covered Merry’s other breast with a hand and then tweaked that nipple between two fingers. What was happening to her? Merry pounded the bed with hands and feet, and then her loins exploded. There had been little warning. Good grief. She shoved Camille away and lay back, delighting in the afterglow of her orgasm. How had loving her breasts like that led to an orgasm? “So responsive,” Camille whispered. “You’re going to be such fun. You’re going to have so much fun.” Merry flashed an eyebrow at Camille. “That was a surprise. You look so lovely licking my breasts. I can’t explain it.” “We’re not going to condense lovemaking into an accounting equation. And make no doubt about it, this is lovemaking.” “Oh, I don’t question that. I’ve never questioned the love we share; I just never thought it would play out this way.” “Believe me, we’ve just begun. I’m going to take you to places you’ve never known existed.” “I think you already have.” “If you’re ready to continue, I think somebody may be feeling left out.” “Oh, I’m sorry. I haven’t done anything to satisfy you.” “Nonsense, you’re a visual, tactile, sound, smell—erotic cornucopia of satisfaction.” “You left taste out.” “Exactly. And I wasn’t referring to me; I was referring to your pussy.” 35

The Merry Widow Merry succeeded in keeping her jaw from dropping. “Oh.” She watched Camille use her tongue to lick her way from her breasts across her abs to her belly button. Camille ringed the indentation with her tongue. Flinching, Merry giggled. “That tickles. Sorry, that caught me unawares. I can’t see what you’re doing down there.” “No problem.” Camille moved further down the bed and settled between Merry’s legs. She smiled up at Merry. “Do you have a better view now?” “Oh yes.” “Good, because you’re wet. And those pussy lips look almost overripe.” Merry watched Camille’s tongue poise above her pussy and then dip fractionally until it grazed her lips. “Oh, my God,” she exclaimed. Involuntarily, she spread her hips wider still. She heard Camille’s muffled laughter. Camille raised her head and smiled at her. “Delicious, girl. You are absolutely delicious.” “Good grief, Cam, don’t stop now.” “No danger of that.” Merry watched her lover’s head lower. She felt the tongue licking and then probing. It was joined by a finger—no, two fingers. Merry raised her knees and jutted her pussy forward in open invitation. She wasn’t to be disappointed. Camille levered in and out with tongue and fingers in unison. With her other hand, she searched for and found Merry’s clitoris. Unmercifully, Merry bucked against both hand and tongue, demanding, seeking her own pleasure. At last, she felt it building from toes to skull. She heard Camille’s strained words. “Come to me, girl. Come.”

36

The Merry Widow And she did. Wave after wave threatened to dislodge fingers and tongue. She wasn’t ready for them to leave. Camille slowed her efforts but did not pull away. Merry felt her flow ebb. Camille’s tongue lapped at her juices. Merry’s muscles tightened. “Oh no, it’s happening again.” She was overtaken by a massive wave. Camille sucked on her pussy as she had on her nipple. The woman was draining her. Too much. She pulled away to escape the intensity. Later—she didn’t know how much later—she became aware of Camille holding her firmly against her body. The woman’s breasts felt like two pillows pressed against her back. “Wow,” she murmured. “That was beyond anything I had imagined.” “It was good for me too,” Camille said softly against Merry’s neck. “I doubt I could ever quench my thirst for your nectar. Exquisite. Why don’t I turn off the light and we can see how we feel in the morning.” “But I didn’t do anything for you. I didn’t give you pleasure.” “You’ve got to be kidding. I am so filled with pleasure if I take any more I’ll bust. There’s plenty of time for me. There’s plenty of time for us, at last.” Merry smiled happily and nuzzled back against her lover. “Yes, at last.” **** Jim Barnes slammed a hand against the steering wheel. The light in the upstairs bedroom of the St. Jermaine house had just gone out. And he’d thought he was such a good judge of character. Plus, he’d followed Merry Delaney for weeks. Nothing like this had ever happened. Not even close. There had been no clue. He wasn’t absolutely certain even now, but he was no fool, either. He’d seen the upstairs bedroom light come on bright. 37

The Merry Widow And then he’d seen the women lighting candles. Some artificial light had also been left on, likely a lamp on a bedstand. He hadn’t seen anything else—which was probably fortunate—until Camille St. Jermaine blew out the candles. The pink curtains didn’t provide for much privacy. The woman was naked. So he’d been fantasizing about a woman who preferred women. Go figure. Well, each to their own. Whatever trips your trigger. That wasn’t about to bother him. Nothing to lose sleep over. He banged the steering wheel again. “Stop thinking with a limp cock.” Christ, could this side of Mrs. Delaney compromise the Fire and Ice case? Shit. It would only be a problem if she let it be a problem. Obviously, she was quite discreet, or he would’ve discovered this little factoid before now. He turned on the engine and eased the car out of park. He was some damn poor detective. They’d never have gone near Merry Delaney if they thought the mob might be able to blackmail her. Of course, that still depended on how the woman felt about being publicly known for sharing her bed with women. Pissed. Had he ever been more pissed? He felt like he’d been taken. But no one had taken him—except maybe himself. He’d like to throttle the damn woman. Be honest with yourself, you idiot. You’d like to be the one in bed with her. He tipped the rearview mirror and glanced at his haggard features. Shit. He looked like some damned street beggar. Fat chance he’d ever see Merry Delaney’s bed. She was class. He wasn’t. She was a classy lesbian. Go figure.

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Chapter 3 “Damn, you’re a quick study, girl.” Camille’s soothing words were a lullaby reverberating in Merry’s ears. She probed deeper into her friend’s pussy as if searching for hidden treasure. Pressure from Camille’s hand on the back of her head guided her effort. Camille’s other hand clawed at her own clit. Merry reveled between the woman’s quivering hips. It was as if her mouth covered the top of a volcano that was going to erupt at any moment. “Now!” Camille’s words hung in the air. A command? A plea? The hot liquid startled her. Merry sipped tentatively. Nice. She drank greedily. Camille’s thighs pumped faster. Merry gulped until she could swallow no more. She rested her cheek on her friend’s trembling thigh. Had they both gone to heaven? Merry’s heartbeat at last calmed. The scent of love filled her lungs. Could this really be happening to her? Yes, it was. Was she levitating, or was she only giddy? “Very nice ride, my friend,” Camille said, stroking Merry’s hair. “How about for you? You’ve had your first taste of a woman.” “It was wonderful. You’re wonderful. You have such a beautiful pussy.” “You’re babbling.” “Yes, but it’s true. I love how you’ve trimmed your pubic hair into a pencil line showing the way.” 39

The Merry Widow “If you can move and if I can pull you away from my pussy, why don’t you slide up here so we can cuddle?” Merry kissed her friend’s pencil line before stretching out beside her. She smiled into Camille’s eyes and lowered her head to kiss her newfound lover. It felt right and pure. She lay back in the crook of Camille’s arm. Merry couldn’t recall being happier. “By the way,” Camille whispered, “I like your pussy the way it is, but you could trim it, too.” “I don’t know. My labia are so puffy—if I trim much they’ll just be more obvious.” “And that’s a problem?” “I don’t know.” “You could try a bald look.” “Completely shave?!” “Sure. No guy could miss those luscious lips then.” Camille clucked. “I used to be very envious of you. I thought those puffy pussy lips meant you were constantly turned on.” “Not hardly. I’m not sure guys need that much help.” “Some seem to have no notion about a woman’s anatomy. It’s amazing some can even reproduce. I nearly trimmed my pubic hair into a downward pointing arrow.” Merry giggled. “No.” “The pencil line helps. You certainly found your way. You might look quite fetching bald.” “I believe I could’ve found my way even without the pencil line. I’ll think about bald—isn’t there a saying that bald is beautiful?” “Yeah, probably started by a bald guy. But I am partial to bald men.” Camille winked. “Bald pussies are fun too. Are you hungry?” “Famished.” “Good. Let’s eat.” Camille narrowed her eyes. “Not that way. Let’s get dressed and go out for brunch.” 40

The Merry Widow “Oh. Good idea.” **** Merry glanced around the restaurant. She couldn’t stop smiling. Did everyone know she’d just made love with her best friend? Were they stamped as lovers? Oddly, she didn’t care one whit. She had a mind to stand up on her chair and shout to the world that she’d just drank the nectar of the gods from her lover’s pussy. Instead, she sipped her Bloody Mary. She’d never had one that tasted so flat. She grinned at Camille, who sat next to her in the cramped booth. Neither one of them wanted to be as far apart as across from each other. Merry squeezed her lover’s thigh and slowly returned her hand to the table. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’re doing for me.” She felt Camille’s hand glide up her thigh and stop. “You don’t think I’m getting a lot out of this, too? I’ve waited for you, girl.” “And you’ve been there all along.” “Here’s your eggs Benedict, ladies,” the waiter said, setting plates in front of them. “Will there be anything else right now?” Both women said, “No.” “This may be cozy,” Camille said, “but when it comes to eating food I need a little more space.” She slid across from Merry, picked up her fork, and cut into an egg. Merry frowned, feeling suddenly alone. She said nothing and began slicing into her brunch. She’d been famished. Where had her appetite gone? She watched Camille study her before speaking. “It was good to see you bubbling again—no pun intended.” Camille sipped orange juice. “You used to be so vibrant and alive—even after Tiffany was born. Even during the hard-ass years when you were working on your accounting degree part41

The Merry Widow time. But then you stopped bubbling. You’re my best friend and I wondered why and where you had gone. It happened before Dan was diagnosed. “Of course after that, you gradually became a shadow of yourself. I used to think of you as St. Merry. If you were a Catholic, they’d put you up for sainthood.” “Right. Well, I’m not Catholic, so I won’t lie awake nights worrying about that. God, last night was superb.” She felt herself redden. “You may be right, though. I nearly forgot how to bubble. It feels good to be on the edge of good emotions, to not have to check my pulse to see if I’m still alive. And I owe this to you, Cam. I owe you so much.” “I may come up with a new moniker for you. You’re going through a transformation. I’ll call you the Merry Widow. I like that.” Merry’s lips turned up. “Not bad. Better than St. Merry. Yes, I accept. You are so cool. Why did we wait so long to do this?” “You weren’t ready. And you’re the one initiating your transformation. I may be helping. I may be inviting. But you and only you can accept.” “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Merry’s brow furrowed. “So now what?” Camille nodded and pursed her lips. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask. You’re beginning to sound like a girl coming down with puppy love. You remember when we were kids?” Merry shrugged. She felt a sudden chill. “What do you mean?” “We are lovers.” Camille smiled. “On top of all this food, I can thankfully still taste you. Much better than this pricey stuff. But—and this is a big but, Merry—I value our friendship above 42

The Merry Widow all else. You need to know up front I’m not looking for a live-in partner.” Merry balled a napkin in her fist. “Divorcing that no-good son of a bitch Todd was the best action I ever took. I tried living with a woman—that didn’t work either. So just in case you begin fantasizing, I’m not interested in a live-in relationship.” “I’m not either,” Merry snorted. “But I don’t know why we have to be discussing this now.” She looked around at other patrons. “And in such a busy place.” “Because you were beginning to wax in love and it wouldn’t take long for you to at least imagine the next leap. And because if we were back at my place I’d have you in bed, on the kitchen table, on the living room floor, and there wouldn’t be time for this conversation.” “Oh.” Merry looked at her cold egg. “The kitchen table? Really?” Camille laughed. “Yes. Would I lie to you?” Merry shook her head. “So why are you doing this, Merry? Why now?” “If not now,” Merry said, “maybe never. Strangely, Tiffany helped me see the light.” “Is that so?” “Did you know she’s been with other women?” “No, but that’s hardly a shock.” “Well, you’re not her mother. Anyway, she thought you and I would be good together.” “I’ll be damned. Tiffany said that?” “Yes. She also thinks I need to try out some so-called young studs and older guys before settling on a guy.” “Tiff has a good head on her shoulders. So we’ll be good together, but not a lasting, permanent thing.” “Apparently.” 43

The Merry Widow “Wish I had the crystal ball of youth. Life seemed much simpler then. So you’re supposed to be auditioning men.” “I guess so—though she wasn’t excluding women.” “Thank goodness! So can we go forward from here, Merry? Can we be lovers without strings and expectations?” “I sure want to try.” “Can you stay the rest of the weekend?” “No, I have to get back today. I was so excited yesterday I didn’t finish a report that’s due on Monday. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go fairly soon.” Merry ducked her chin and then grinned at her friend. “Though I should have enough time to try out the kitchen table, if you like.” “Oh, I’d like that very much.” Camille rose and grabbed the check. “This one is on me to mark the occasion of your coming out as the Merry Widow. From here on, we go Dutch.” **** Merry rotated her strained neck muscles and stared at the numbers on her computer screen. The next time they tried out a kitchen table she was going to have more pillows for neck support. Whew. She wiggled in her chair. Would she ever get enough of Camille’s tongue? She’d screamed like a banshee this morning when Cam had sent her over the top. Maybe it had been the novel setting. Maybe it was because of her new lover. Maybe the screams were necessary for the Merry Widow to begin throwing off her old self. She was determined to enjoy this new persona. Camille had been right. She had begun to fantasize like a teenager about until death do us part. But she’d been through that. The whole shebang. No, she needed time to explore. To explore herself. And—Merry licked her lips—to explore more bodies. Camille had given her the condom lecture, as if she needed it. And Camille was working on setting her up with some blind 44

The Merry Widow dates. She trusted Camille when she said she’d only refer men and women who were health-tested and clean. Funny, she’d never realized how plugged in Camille was to the Chicago sex scene. The way she talked, it was like an underground of people who sought sexual delights with no holds barred and no expectations. It sounded so hedonistic. Merry hummed a tune and punched in more numbers. Well, if she had her way, St. Merry was about to become very hedonistic. First, though, there was the mundane matter of producing an audit report. **** Sunday evening, Merry admired her refurbished solarium that had turned into a splendid, inviting bedroom. A scarf covered her hair. Her arms were grimy from dust and dirt. But her smile spread from ear to ear. “What do you think, Tiff?” she asked, looking at her daughter’s smudge-splattered cheeks. “We did it! It’s as gorgeous as I envisioned. The sun will warm you in winter.” “And cook me in summer.” “You can pull the blinds. I love the mirrors. They do have lots of possibilities.” “Yes, yes. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get away from them. The desire to watch one’s body may diminish with age.” “I hope not. You can always cover some of them with hangings and drapes.” “I suppose.” “You’re going to love it down here, Mom. I know you will. It will be refreshing to be in here. And it was a stroke of genius to resurrect your grandma’s four-poster bed from the attic. I’d forgotten we still had it.” 45

The Merry Widow “It is lovely. Thanks for all the elbow grease you used to get that wood grain to shine again.” “That doesn’t come close to matching your shine.” “What?” “I’m pleased to know you’ve been with Camille.” “How? Do I have blinking lights saying so?” “You don’t have to. It’s evident in your radiant smile and in the bounce of your step. For the first time in a long time, you look like the mom I remember from when I was a little girl. So sure of herself, embracing everything about life, including me.” “Well, maybe. But I don’t want to talk to you about Camille. She’s your ‘aunt’ and I’m your mother.” “I do seem to recall that. But I am happy for you. Now, you’ll have to find some guys.” “I don’t have to do any such thing.” “I could line you up—” “Tiffany Ann Delaney, you are my daughter. I will not have you sending men my way. If I want a man, I’ll find one on my own. End of conversation.” “Camille can help.” “End of conversation!” “Oh, okay. I just want to see you happy. And I brought you a present to celebrate your new bedroom and commemorate this life change you’re going through.” Tiffany rummaged through the bag of stuff she’d brought over and handed her mother a small wrapped package. Merry took the package and shook it. There was no sound. “This better not be a vibrator.” Tiffany smothered a giggle. “It’s not. I didn’t think about that.” Carefully, Merry removed the paper and opened the box. “Oh my,” she breathed, “it’s precious.” She lifted from the box a crystal figurine of a butterfly shedding its chrysalis. Its head and 46

The Merry Widow one wing were free. The second wing was half out. She held the figurine up so it would catch light from the corner lamp. It sparkled with the multiple hues of a rainbow. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked at her daughter and bawled. Tiffany gathered her up in her arms and hugged her tight. Merry cried on her daughter’s shoulder. Where were those tears coming from? She seldom ever cried— even during the worst of times. And this—this was a beautiful time. After what seemed like an interminable amount of time the tears stopped, and Merry stepped back and filled her lungs with air. She shook her head. “I will treasure this beautiful gift for as long as I live, Tiffany.” “I’m glad you like it, Mom. I hope it will comfort you when you need comforting and encourage you when you need encouraging.” “I’m sure it will. I think I’ll place in on the bookshelf in the corner so it can pick up the early-morning light.” **** On Monday morning, Merry woke up with a start. It wasn’t the alarm that startled her; it was the strange surroundings. And then she realized where she was. She snuggled back down under the covers of her grandmother’s four-poster bed and drank in her space. The bed was surprisingly firm. Tiffany had done such a nice job on the mahogany—it gleamed rich and exotic. The butterfly prism shone brightly in the morning sun. Rays gathered by the prism reflected off the mirrors. Merry studied herself in the mirrors. Would she ever get accustomed to seeing her reflection in three different directions? Sleep still filled her eyes. She did look well-loved. She beamed at herself; she should look well-loved. 47

The Merry Widow She stretched. “Come on, sleepyhead. It’s time to rise and shine.” She eased out from under the covers. She’d slept nude for the first time in years. When she was young she’d slept nude, relishing the feel of satin sheets in the summer and flannel sheets in the winter. Yes, a well-loved body. She palmed her breasts, remembering Camille’s mouth covering each of them. Her gaze swept down the mirror and caught the reflection of her full pussy lips. Bald. She chuckled. Maybe. Won’t that be a hoot? She’d thought they were a liability. Won’t Camille be surprised? God, when had she last felt so carefree? Merry twirled around her room, soaking up the morning sunshine. She stopped and stared at the four-poster bed. Who would share her bed first? Camille? Or maybe someone she hadn’t even met? How many lovers would she bring to her bed? It was outlandish that she could even think of such a thing. What would her grandmother think? Merry swallowed a laugh. She’d completely forgotten her grandmother had been branded a hussy in her day. She’d been a sociologist who worked on one of the earliest major studies of sexual mores in the country. There had been rumors within the family that she’d taken female as well as male lovers. Unfortunately, she’d died before Merry was born. “Here’s to you, Grandmother. May you and your bed continue to inspire!” Merry chuckled and headed toward the bathroom. If she kept this bedroom arrangement, she might add a connecting bathroom. **** Jim Barnes couldn’t shake his grumpy mood as he got out of his car and walked toward Merry Delaney’s house. How the hell could he have been so wrong about the woman? 48

The Merry Widow He’d followed the two women to Paddywack’s restaurant. They might as well have been making out in the booth. Anyone who paid them any attention certainly knew they were lovers, though he doubted anyone even looked at them other than him. And then he’d followed them back to St. Jermaine’s house. Jesus H. Christ. On the goddamn kitchen table! Maybe he should be ashamed for spying on them, but he was only doing his job. It hadn’t been difficult at all to slip into the woman’s backyard and hide in the bushes. He’d tried to get out of there once he realized what they were going to do, but the neighbor’s dog started barking. He didn’t have any choice but to stay where he was. It never occurred to him to close his eyes. It took all the restraint he could muster not to jerk off in the damn bushes. Surprisingly, Merry Delaney was one hot chick. St. Jermaine wasn’t hard on the eyes either. But, Christ, on the kitchen table? He’d never done that. He tried to straighten his erection before ringing Merry’s doorbell. She threw the door wide open as if she might be expecting someone. When her jaw dropped, it was clear she hadn’t been expecting him. “Good morning, Merry.” She frowned. “Good morning, Detective. Come on in. I thought you said the end of the week. You want some coffee?” He followed the shapely rear sashaying down the hallway to the kitchen. He grabbed a stool at the island and sat down, trying hard not to imagine Merry Delaney lying on it, offering herself to him. Licking his lips, he shook his head and accepted the coffee mug she handed him. “Something bothering you, Jim?” “No, I was just in the area, and I wanted to know if you were having second thoughts—about helping with Fire and Ice. I could find someone else.” 49

The Merry Widow “Please don’t. I’ve already tracked some of the records stored on my computer. You’re right—if you’re looking for something, several possibilities for skimming come up. As a private auditor, I’m basically at the mercy of what I’m given by company accountants and financial officers. I don’t normally have intentional fraud in mind when I examine books. I want to make sure the company is complying with standard accounting procedures and seems to do well by its stockholders, if it’s a publicly owned company.” “You’re sure bright and chipper this morning.” “I beg your pardon?” “The other day you seemed more reserved. You seem different today.” Was that a blush creeping up around the collar of Merry’s blouse? “I tend to be a morning person, I suppose.” “I was here in the morning last Friday.” Merry scowled at him. “Yes, you were. Well, I don’t believe you are here to discuss my personal affairs, are you?” Jim coughed and reached for his handkerchief. Damn, he’d like to discuss her affairs. But that didn’t seem wise—at least not at the moment. “No, ma’am. This is damn good coffee. Don’t know if I’ve ever had better.” Merry laughed readily. Jim relaxed. He liked this woman much better than the one who wanted to keep him out of her personal life. “It’s a special blend my daughter concocted for her catering business.” “So you want to continue working on this Fire and Ice case?” “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? When I decide to do something, I usually follow through.” “Okay. Good. I’ll be on my way. Some people change their minds about working with the police after having more time to 50

The Merry Widow think about it. If you come across something of interest, give me a call. Or I’ll check in with you later.” “Okay, Detective, you do that. I’ll be sure to let you know if I’m making any progress.” Jim Barnes walked back to his car mentally kicking himself. He’d dropped by to fire the woman. After Friday night, he’d been certain it was the right decision. But having seen her spread-eagled on the kitchen table like some tasty morsel on Saturday morning, he was less certain he wanted to be done with her. He shook his head and opened the car door. How many times had he told junior officers not to think with their cocks? He might be getting a little old, but damn it, his cock still had a mind of its own.

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Chapter 4 “You did it,” Camille squealed, jumping on the bed. Her breasts bobbed up and down delightfully. “You got the bald look! Let me inspect more closely.” Merry laughed as Camille knelt between her legs, holding her hands apart as if she were sizing up a piece of art. “I figured it might help my transforming self-image. When I grow tired of it, I can grow it back. It wasn’t a pleasant process.” “No, I’m sure it wasn’t. It gets easier with practice. I really like it, Merry. Those lips look so heavy with desire. You look like a ripe melon to be plucked, sucked, and fucked.” “Oh my. That does sound good. Why don’t you give it a try?” “Hopefully, I’ll do better than try. Why don’t I shift around so we can munch on each other for awhile?” “Sounds good to me. Sixty-nine was always one of my favorites, though I’m not sure it was one of Dan’s. I usually had to ask for it.” “Let me slide a pillow under your butt. There. Enough talking.” Merry widened her thighs to give Camille as much access as possible and used her tongue to trace the outlines of her lover’s dark pussy. Soon they were matching tongue thrust with tongue thrust. Merry laughed when they both released at the same time. Early on, Dan had always asked if she’d come with him. Neither she nor Camille had to pose that question. 52

The Merry Widow Camille stayed on her knees, keeping her weight off of Merry. She reached for the lube, slathered more on her fingers, and rested her chin on Merry’s pelvis. One of Camille’s fingers slid below Merry’s pussy. “That tickles,” Merry said, tensing. “Relax. If you want to see what I’m doing put some lube on your fingers and do to me what I’m doing to you.” “Okay. That sounds fair. You were always the ticklish one.” Merry lubed her fingers and slid them up and down Camille’s pussy until one finger was halfway between pussy and anus. She grinned and tickled Camille good. Camille jerked and then settled. “Hey, you did that on purpose. This isn’t a tickle-fest.” “It could be.” “Not this time.” Merry pulled away from the finger that threatened to enter her ass. “Don’t be afraid, Merry. Do as I do.” Merry scowled at the dark hole staring her in the eye. She pressed a finger against it. It gave way. Her finger slipped halfway in until it met with resistance. “That’s how it works,” Camille said. “Your ass is just tighter than mine, but you’ll open up to this pleasure too. There, you’ve already relaxed the inner ring.” Merry breathed sharply as Camille’s finger probed further. Without more instruction, she pushed her finger deeper into Camille’s ass. Her finger was all the way in. “Wiggle it around. Explore.” “You’re so hot. I never thought of the anus as an erogenous zone.” “It’s time to start thinking outside the box. I’m going to wiggle my finger around just a little bit. If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop. How’s that?” 53

The Merry Widow Merry wet her lips. “Full, but not bad—but I don’t know how much more I can handle.” “I’ll ease out for now. Why don’t you come out of my ass, too?” “Oh, I almost forgot I was in there. Sorry.” “That’s okay. Only next time pull out slowly. Lubes tend to dry up in time. So how was your first experience with anal play?” “Strange. Naughty. Nothing too thrilling. I prefer your mouth on my pussy.” “We’ve just begun to play, girl.” Camille reached over and pulled out a drawer. “I’m going to send you home with some homework. These are butt plugs. Start small and work up to larger sizes. You’ll be surprised at what you can take in that delicious ass of yours and you’ll be overwhelmed by the pleasure.” Merry didn’t even try to keep the shock off her face. “I’d never be able to take anything that large in my butt,” she said, pointing at the largest pink object. “Nonsense, I’ll wager larger things have come out of it. Watch.” Again, Camille reached into the drawer, pulled out an even larger butt plug, and spread lube over its entire surface. “The ones I’m giving you are new; they’re just for you. Be sure to wash the plugs after using them.” Merry sincerely doubted she’d even try the smallest one. She watched Camille prop herself up against the pillows and direct the large pink object to the dark hole where Merry’s finger had just lingered. Merry’s eyes bugged. The plug was a third of the way in, but its bulge remained outside. Surely, that was enough. Camille smacked her lips, squirmed about, and pressed down with her butt, taking in more of the object. “Almost there. It takes time and practice to relax the muscles. But you’ll start much smaller than this.” Like hell! 54

The Merry Widow The pink bulge disappeared inside Camille. Only the flange kept her friend from swallowing up the entire plug. “Wow! I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it go in with my own eyes. Heavens!” Camille’s passion-filled eyes told the story of what was happening to her internally. She was building toward a huge climax. “Help me, Merry,” Camille pled. “Put your fingers in my pussy. Help me over the edge. Please. Hurry.” Merry didn’t hesitate. She might not fully understand, but it was clear what her lover needed. She knelt beside her and worked two fingers into Camille’s pussy, then leaned over and wrapped her lips around the hooded clitoris. “Yes. Good God, yes. Work those fingers faster. Suck on my clit. I’m coming. I’m coming. Oh, my God I’m coming.” Merry levered her fingers until Camille’s spasms ceased. There was no way she could avoid contact with the foreign object in Camille’s ass. Gradually, she drew her fingers out of her friend’s pussy. Her hand joined Camille’s to ease the butt plug out of Camille’s ass. It fell to the bed. Camille gathered Merry in her arms and hugged her. “Thank you, love. Thank you so much. That was power personified. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a more powerful orgasm; I’m so happy I could share it with you. Thanks for hanging in there with me.” Nodding, Merry didn’t know what to say. If they were pushing the envelope for more powerful orgasms, then she’d just witnessed a gigantic one. But was that what she was about? Laughing and pulling away, Camille stretched to her full length. “Didn’t mean to get so mushy there. Whew. That was huge. I’m probably satiated for a spell. We need to line up some guys for you or you’re going to wear me out.” “Wear you out?” 55

The Merry Widow “I’ve talked to a young stud about you. Don’t be perturbed, I didn’t use your name. I just told him I knew this widow who was looking for some fun and asked whether he’d be interested. He is. He’s clean. I told you I wouldn’t refer anyone without thorough checking, including health. How long has it been since you’ve had a cock, Merry?” “I’m not sure I remember.” Merry shrugged. “Six years. Maybe more.” “Damn, this guy is hung. You’re probably tighter than a virgin.” Merry didn’t know if she should be pleased to see her friend in such determined thought. “I did have a baby, you know.” “I’ve got just the ticket. Let’s have some wine and cheese and then I’ll help you get ready for the stud.” “All of this is happening pretty fast, Camille.” “Now’s the time, girl. Now’s the time. Promise me you’ll try at the least the smallest butt plug later this week.” Merry scrunched her mouth. Camille’s finger hadn’t felt bad at all—mysteriously enticing, actually. She hadn’t tried to explain even to herself her sense of loss when Camille had pulled her finger out. “Okay, the smallest one,” she managed to whisper. **** Camille set their refilled wineglasses on the bedstands. She untied her robe and held her arms out in invitation. “Come here, my Merry Widow. We’re going to prepare you for your men.” “Men,” Merry chuckled. “You make it sound like there’s a line of men around the block.” “There will be if you want. I can make it happen.” Merry opened her mouth slightly, welcoming Camille’s now-familiar lips and tongue. Sometimes she wondered if she didn’t prefer kissing to everything else. Then she thought of some recent orgasms and decided not. 56

The Merry Widow Camille lowered a hand to cup Merry’s pussy. A finger slid easily in. Merry swallowed hard. Was she in a perpetual state of readiness? “Good, you’re already moist. Give me a minute. I’ll be right back. Go ahead and stretch out on the bed and relax.” Merry fluffed up the pillows and lay back, awaiting her lover’s next surprise. She’d been in any number of emotional states in this bed lately. Relaxed wasn’t necessarily high on that list. Satiated. Maybe that counted for relaxed. The bathroom door opened and Camille stepped out. “Oh my God, Camille, what is that thing?” Merry pointed and giggled. “You look hilarious.” Then she laughed. She couldn’t stop laughing. Camille shook her head. “Haven’t you ever heard of a strapon cock?” She wrapped her hand around the electric-pink, lifesized, imitation cock dangling from the harness she wore and pretended to jerk it off. Merry howled. And then her eyes grew large. Her hands flew to cover her bare pussy. “You’re not.” Camille nodded her head. “I’ll be much more tender reopening you than any young stud will be.” She hadn’t considered that. Her brow furrowed. “I thought a vibrator would be good enough.” “Depending on its size, it might. But I’m ready to take you with this. Camille walked to the bed and sat down beside Merry. “Here. At least feel it.” Smothering a laugh, Merry reached out and touched the object Camille admired so much. She frowned. “I didn’t realize it’d be so soft.” She squeezed. “And pliable.” “This one’s modeled after the real thing. Some are hard and stiff. I’m not so fond of those. This doesn’t beat an actual cock, but it may be the next best thing. Let me try. You can be on top. That way you control the entire coupling.” 57

The Merry Widow “I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop laughing long enough.” Merry wiped tears from her eyes and shook her head at Camille’s perplexity. “Hell, I’m game. Grab the lube.” “You’re a real trouper, girl. Here’s the lube. I’ll get on my back, and you straddle me like I’m your young stud.” Smiling, wishing she was home to see herself in the mirrors, Merry lubed the fake cock with both hands and then raised herself above it. She widened her hips and inserted the tip. Camille helped steady its base. Merry pushed down. She took in another inch or two. She frowned. It had been a long time. Why hadn’t the vibrator helped more than this? Of course, the silver bullet didn’t compare in circumference with what Camille was wearing. Determined, Merry grabbed more lube and spread it the full length of the thing. She reinserted it and tried to ignore the look of awe in Camille’s eyes as she took more and more of the fake cock deep into her vagina. “Wow. You did it, girl. Take your time and let your body adjust.” “Adjust, hell. I’m already on the edge.” Merry tested traveling the length of the cock. It did fine. Real fine, actually. Six or so more strokes and her juices were flowing down the cock. She sat still for a long moment, trying to comprehend what had happened. Then laughter bubbled up from deep within her throat. She pulled off of the love object and collapsed on Camille’s chest laughing and crying. “Incredible. I didn’t expect to come using that thing. Not at all.” “So what’s so funny?” “It just—it just looks like a disembodied cock. I’ve never had a cock without a man attached.” “Damn, girl. Maybe we shouldn’t have taken you out of your bottle. For a lot of women disembodied cock is very serious stuff.” 58

The Merry Widow Merry shook her head. “I guess I’m not a lot of women.” Camille kissed her full on the lips. “Thank God for that. Rest up. I want you to fuck me, too.” “Oh, don’t think I’m not going to. I couldn’t leave without trying that.” Merry shook her head. “I hope I can stop laughing long enough to insert it in the right hole.” “Ouch, girl. Don’t even think about it. My ass is still sore from the reaming I gave it with that oversized butt plug.” “That’s what you get for trying to impress me.” Camille smiled. “You’re probably right. I seldom try that one.” “So you still prefer real cock to this contraption?” “Absolutely. But this makes for nice variety. And as I said, some women wouldn’t trade this for the real thing for any amount of money.” Merry lay back and threw an arm across her forehead and sighed. “So do you prefer men or women?” “I was wondering when you’d ask.” Camille chuckled. “I have no preference. I like both equally. It may depend on my mood, I suppose.” “You seem to be in a mood for a woman quite a bit lately.” “Yes.” Camille brushed a finger across Merry’s nipple. “But you’re a special case. You’re my best friend. I’ll always be in the mood for you.” “But not solely and not live-in.” “Exactly.” “Do you think I’ll have other women?” “I know you will.” Merry turned onto her side. “So now what are you cooking up?” “Can’t tell you.” “Won’t tell me.” 59

The Merry Widow “Be that as it may, you won’t know until it happens. An important part of setting you free is opening you to surprise. Getting you to take risks.” “So how am I doing?” “Admirably.” “Good. So now it’s my turn to open you up. How in the world do I put on that contraption?” “I’ll show you, but let’s wash it off first.” Camille got up and brought a small bowl of water back from the bathroom. Merry giggled, splashing water onto the false cock and across her friend’s breasts. “You’re beyond bubbling tonight, girl. You’ve got more energy than ten women. Come on, let’s get this thing on you. I think I’m going to like watching your face. You think you’re going to just fuck me, but I expect you’re in for another surprise. “Let me kneel on the floor and stretch across the bed. You can enter from behind. Make sure you’re well lubed. And make sure of your target.” “Don’t worry. I seldom miss a target. Okay, we’re lubed back here. Are you ready?” “I’m so wet. I may not feel you.” “I doubt that.” Merry guided the head of the false cock to the entrance of the dark pussy and pushed inward. She was startled to see nearly half of the object slip in with one shove. She pushed again. “I’m in,” she announced. “Why am I not surprised? So what are you going to do now?” “I’m not certain.” “Goodness. Wrap a hand around the base of the cock to help keep it steady and then start thrusting. It’s a move that should come naturally. You could also squeeze my butt cheeks 60

The Merry Widow with the hand that’s not otherwise occupied.” Camille shook her head. “Okay, I get the picture. I thought we weren’t in a rush.” “Well, now we are. I’m already beyond simmering. If you don’t want to get left at the gate, you better start fucking.” Merry eased the cock out a bit and pushed it back in. “That’s the idea. Quicker.” “Okay.” Her hips picked up the pace. “Very good. You’re my cowboy; I’m your cowgirl. Ride ’em, Cowboy!” Her hips began to churn. She was no longer in control. Her hips had taken over. “Slap my ass, Cowboy. Slap my ass.” Merry flinched at the sting of her hand slapping Camille’s fleshy cheek. “Harder, Cowboy, slap my ass like you’re riding a bronco.” Merry struck harder. She saw her imprint on Camille’s ass. “That’s right. I’m coming. Hold on for dear life, Cowboy. I’m coming.” Merry reared back and rammed as hard as she could. Again, her hips took over. Churning. Churning. Merry’s mouth fell open. She peeked down at their joining. And then threw her head back and wailed, welcoming her own orgasm. Like an old-fashioned locomotive, her hips slowed and finally stopped. Not a word was spoken. In the heavy silence, Merry tried to be reasonable. She’d had a huge climax fucking her friend with a fake cock. How had that happened? She’d fully anticipated Camille coming, but not herself. What had caused it? Not the fake cock, certainly. Camille’s words. Losing control. It was too much to fathom. They lay across the bed, recouping their breath and strength. “Do you suppose guys ever lose it like that? I couldn’t 61

The Merry Widow control my hips. They took on a life of their own. They were in charge.” “Some do quite often,” Camille replied. “Fortunately.” “Daniel never spun out of control like that.” “That’s too bad.” “He certainly came. His coming was often accompanied by a satisfied grunt, as if he’d just successfully finished computing a balance sheet. I don’t understand why he couldn’t let go.” “You let it go, girl. Enjoy the moment. You don’t have to understand everything.” **** So where was her new partner? He seemed more like a nemesis at times. He certainly was unpredictable. He showed up on a Monday when he wasn’t due until Friday. Now, an entire week had elapsed without her seeing him. He probably was working many cases. And, given his athletic frame, he probably had women hanging all over him. Why should that thought stir her? She didn’t favor athletic men. She scrutinized the computer screen and scrolled back up. Ah, ha. Could be it. This would require more digging, but she might at last have something for Detective Jim Barnes to chew on. **** He walked into her house later that afternoon. “So what do you have for me?” “Probably not as much as you hope,” she said, unsure what they were actually talking about. He wasn’t suggesting—or, was he? She peeked at him as she led him back to her office. He was inscrutable as usual. The man probably didn’t have a clue about sexual innuendo. “Pull up a chair,” Merry said, scrolling down her computer screen. “Just about there. Here it is.” Jim peered over her 62

The Merry Widow shoulder at the screen. She breathed in his aftershave and momentarily lost her focus. “Looks like a bunch of numbers to me. You’re going to have to spell it out in plain English.” “Sorry. Of course. I’ve gone back over my audit reports for Fire and Ice Optics for the last five years.” “And?” “Not much has changed. But what has changed may be significant,” she said, pointing to the screen. “I’m still in the dark, lady. Words. Use some words. Tell me what you have.” Merry turned her head and stared at him. “Right.” She steadied her breathing and continued, “Fire and Ice is reporting a steady increase in total revenue of about twenty percent a year. Healthy, but not overly robust. Not enough to draw immediate attention. On the other hand, profits are not keeping pace— averaging a meager three percent.” “So where’s the other seventeen percent going?” “Good question. During the past five years, Fire and Ice has added a new vendor each year, only to have it drop out of their vendor list the following year. Look at the list I’ve created. Year one: ABC Hardware; year two: Industrial Supply; year three: Solid Plastics; year four: Beta Metrics; and year five: Hardy’s Glass. And I’ll bet you most anything Hardy’s Glass won’t appear on next year’s books.” “I might like to take your wager, but I expect that’s a sure bet. I’ll run a check on those companies. They could be dummies or legitimate businesses being used as fronts. In any case, Fire and Ice doesn’t want to establish a pattern.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But my bright CPA found the pattern anyway. Good work. This may be all we need. Whatever you do, don’t breathe a word about this to anyone at the company. Don’t ask questions.” 63

The Merry Widow Merry shrank from his dark scowl. “So far you’re only lurking behind the scenes here. Danger increases if you start asking questions. That’s my job. Got it?” “Of course. It’s not like I have daily contact with those people. And my main contact is the chief financial officer, Ben Grayson. I think I’ve only met the CEO, Doug Henry, once or twice.” “It’s difficult to imagine a scenario where both of them aren’t up to their ears in this shit. Be careful. It’s uncanny how the bad guys have an instinct for trouble. Sometimes they’re almost as good at it as cops.” Jim stood and walked over to her bookshelves. “You appear to be an eclectic reader, Merry. Accounting, history, dance, art, romance—do you enjoy romance, Merry Delaney?” “Of course I do, or I wouldn’t have the books.” She rose and walked over to see what he was looking at. “I didn’t mean books. Do you enjoy romance?” His dark smoky eyes could have leapt from one of the pages of her most recent romance novel. She stood her ground. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Detective.” His features hardened. “Of course I do. I imagine most women do. Not that I’ve known much in years.” She glanced back at her desk. “Forgive me. Now I am rattling on.” “I like to hear you rattle on. You have a lilting voice, Merry. Rich. Playful. Almost sultry.” Merry turned and retraced her steps to her desk. If she’d stayed in close proximity to him a minute longer, she would’ve stood on her tiptoes and kissed the fool. Would that have been so bad? Probably not. So who is the fool? “I’ll leave you to your work. If you think of anything else or come across something of interest give me a call or—” “Or you’ll check back in a few days.” “Exactly.” 64

The Merry Widow He waved and gave her a crooked smile. She waved back. Hopefully it was a confident wave. So why was she already looking forward to his checking back? Had he been flirting with her? Had she been flirting with him? Merry hugged herself and stared at her computer, seeing nothing. There was something nice about flirting.

65

The Merry Widow

Chapter 5 He was built; she readily admitted that. So were the two other young studs she’d had in the past week and a half. Camille must assume she was into athletes. She’d have to correct that assumption. Michael Stanley had taken her to a noisy, smoky bar where they’d munched nachos, swigged beer, and talked about sports. Actually, he’d talked about sports whenever he could pull his eyes away from the ballgame on the large-screen TV. She was certainly being exposed to a broader range of life than she’d ever known. Quiet was more her style. Soft music and stimulating conversation. She’d brought him back to her place; she wasn’t about to risk discovering where or how he lived. And hotels were too clandestine, too cheesy. If she wanted a young man, then she’d have him—in her own house—in her own bed. She lay naked on satin sheets. She smiled at Michael standing equally nude at the end of the bed, seemingly undecided about what to do next. Maybe he wouldn’t be in as much of a rush as the last two fellows. She raised one arm above her head and covered a breast with a hand. “So, young man, do you see anything you want? Or are you going to stand there and stare all night? Looks like you got something between your legs that could use some attention.” He responded by encircling his full cock with a hand and running it quickly up and down his shaft. “Yes, ma’am, I see 66

The Merry Widow plenty. Gosh, Mrs. Delaney, your pussy screams sex. I’ve never seen anything like it.” “Yeah, well if it’s screaming for sex, maybe you should answer the call.” “Oh. Of course, Mrs. Delaney. “If you can’t call me Merry, maybe you shouldn’t call me anything. Mrs. Delaney makes me feel like I’m old enough to be your mother.” “But you are—” “Just get on with it, Michael.” “What do you want to do?” “Have sex, damn it!” “I mean what position.” “I don’t have names for all the possibilities. Why don’t you choose one and surprise me?” “Okay. Roll over on and get on your hands and knees.” Rear entry. Merry shrugged. She could handle that. Wasn’t this guy into preliminaries? Oh my, yes he was. His tongue flew across her pussy, trying to be everywhere at once. Merry gritted her teeth, hoping he’d find what he was searching for or at least slow down his search. A finger opened her entrance and pressed deep. He’d no doubt found something he’d been hoping for all evening. “Nice,” she heard him mutter. What the hell had he expected? Merry steadied her pulse and tried concentrating on her own body. Yes, there was that distant drumbeat. This guy was going to turn out okay after all. Did he plan on staying the night? Merry shuddered. The drumbeat stilled. She felt her lower legs and hips being gathered up in strong arms. Her weight shifted to her forearms and head. She swiveled to get a glimpse in the mirror. “Ah.” She didn’t have to watch a mirror to know he’d just entered her full bore. Son of a bitch. She 67

The Merry Widow held on for dear life as he hammered in and out of her. He was a young man of considerable force. She braced herself the best she could. Fortunately, he wasn’t a young man who could hold on long. Even through the thin condom, she sensed his sperm pouring out of him like a waterfall. He dislodged himself and laid her gently down on the bed. She rolled over on her back and stared wide-eyed at him. He was still semi-hard. “That was some kind of great, Mrs. Delaney. Give me a few and I’ll be able to go again.” Merry held up her palm. “No. No, I don’t think I can go again. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Michael, but once was enough.” “Okay. No problem. I’ll get dressed and be out of here.” “Great. I mean that’s fine.” She cocked her head to the side. “Michael, does that position have a name?” “Sure. Haven’t you tried it before? It’s great for deep penetration.” “I noticed.” Merry resisted rubbing her sore pussy in front of her paramour. “It’s called the wheelbarrow, Mrs. Delaney. Your legs are the handles, your shoulder and head the wheel, and I load the bucket.” “Right. I get the picture. It’s been nice, Michael. You drive home safely.” “Thanks, Mrs. Delaney. I’ll always remember this night. You have an unforgettable pussy. Bye.” Merry withheld her laughter until she heard the front door close, and then she howled and reached for the massage oil. Gingerly, she applied the oil to those bruised lips that Michael couldn’t seem to stop talking about. Maybe that image was his souvenir. At least he hadn’t asked for her panties. 68

The Merry Widow **** At least the damn kid didn’t stay the night. Was Merry Delaney on a sexual binge, or was this normal behavior for her? Three guys in ten nights. And he’d lost track of how many times she’d been with her girlfriend. If it was normal, why weren’t there any signs of these antics before he brought her onto his case? Jim tucked his binoculars under the seat and drove off. He couldn’t take this much longer. He was going to have to either fire her or fuck her. And he wasn’t the least bit interested in firing her. **** “So how’s it going, Mom? You’re not letting the bed bugs bite, are you?” “Not hardly. Are those the files I need to close out the month for you?” “Everything you asked for,” Tiffany said, dropping files of receipts and bills on a table near her mother’s desk. “I thought you were coming down to the shop to do them.” “I’m sorry, honey. I’ve been so busy. I couldn’t get away. This is a big help. I can work on them here in between things, if necessary.” “In between things.” Tiffany arched her eyebrows. “A lot of things?” “Tiffany. I love you. I appreciate your interest and your support. But I’m not going to discuss my love life with you. You are my daughter.” Tiffany pouted, suddenly reminding Merry of her little girl who pretended hurt feelings. “And I thought we were friends.” “We’re that, too. But I don’t ask you about your love life.” Tiffany immediately perked up. “What do you want to know?” “Tiff, I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know.” 69

The Merry Widow “But you are having fun. At least tell me that.” Merry shook her head, inhaled, and then exhaled. “Yes, I am having fun.” “And are you taking my advice? Are you trying out some young guys and some old guys? Of course, I know about Camille.” “I’m working on it. That’s all I’m going to say. So how’s business these days?” “Hectic. Martha quit. She got herself pregnant. She’s hardly out of high school.” “She’ll manage, if she wants to.” “Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. I forgot.” “That’s okay. I know it’s hard to imagine I was ever eighteen with hormones that got me into trouble.” “I’m thankful you did. I wouldn’t be, otherwise.” “Yes, I think of that often. You make it all worthwhile. So you’re hiring again.” “Not my favorite job. That reminds me. I’ve got an interview in half an hour. Wish me luck.” Tiffany leaned over to hug her mother. “And, Mom, good luck with all those things. You look so young and cute when you blush.” **** Later than evening, Merry lay on her bed going through the nightly ritual she now maintained when home alone. She already had a butt plug in her ass. She’d gone up two sizes since starting this routine. Camille would be proud and pleased. Merry licked her lips and turned the page of her romance novel. Would the hero arrive in time to rescue the heroine? Of course he would. She yawned and laid the book across her breasts. She smiled at the chrysalis butterfly figurine. It did feed her soul. It was so full of promise. She set the book aside and gently removed the butt plug. After washing it off, she returned to her bed and turned out the 70

The Merry Widow light. The image of the chrysalis flitted behind her closed eyes. Life was good. Maybe she should get a tattoo or a body piercing. Ouch! A tattoo sounded better. Drifting off to sleep, she dimly realized she’d never completed the scene of the hero rushing to save his damsel in distress. She hugged a pillow tight. If she were to write a romance, the heroine would save the hero. A soft-focus image of a dark-haired, handsome man emerged in her mind. He had a gun in his hand. Or maybe they’d save each other. **** Opening Camille’s door without knocking, Merry glanced about with increased curiosity. Camille had called to tell her to drop by this evening, that she had a surprise for her. She was to come in and go immediately upstairs. Merry climbed the stairs, her heart beating faster on each stair step. She opened Camille’s bedroom door. Her mouth dropped at the scene in front of her. Lying naked on the bed she almost considered her own were Camille and Florence Johnson, a longtime friend. The tall, thin, black woman turned and waved cheerily. “Hi, Merry, it’s been too long. Come over here. Let me give you a hug.” Merry fought for breath as the woman hauled her down onto the bed, fully clothed. “Flo is our surprise for the evening,” Camille said, joining in the hug. Camille kissed Merry and then Florence. “So I see,” Merry said, finding her voice. She saw the questioning in Flo’s eyes. “I’m glad. You’re beautiful, Flo. I’m jealous. Don’t you have any flab?” Florence stretched. “Not if I can help it; I run every day. But I expect this is more God’s doing than mine. It’s been too long since you were by the court, Merry. I’m still prosecuting at the 4th District.” 71

The Merry Widow “I haven’t been involved with criminal or civil cases lately. Things have been a little boring. But that’ll change.” “That’s going to change right now. Come on, girl, let’s get you out of those clothes. I want a good look at you. Of course, I’m going to want to do more than look.” “I hope so.” Merry grinned. She reached to unbutton her blouse. Dark hands pulled on her skirt. She lifted her rear, and skirt and panties came off in one fell swoop. “Well, lookie there,” Flo exclaimed. “I was looking forward to nibbling some blond curls, but those fleshy lips will certainly do. Goodness gracious, you’re as bald as a chicken egg. Hurry up with that bra, Merry, I want to see all of you. “Ah, nice breasts. I wish I were so blessed. What flab? You’ve got about as much flab as a turnip. I’m sure Camille has sampled everything you have to offer, so it’s my turn.” Flo patted the mattress. Merry lay down on her back, anticipating Flo’s tongue. She wasn’t disappointed. Flo moved between her legs and lapped her pussy like Merry was a saucer of milk. Was it black on white? Was it Camille’s fingers stroking her clit? Whatever. She came quickly, too quickly. But Flo wasn’t backing off. The woman drove her fingers into Merry’s pussy. Camille continued to stroke her clit, and Merry started to thrash. She couldn’t get away from fingers and tongue. There was no end. She pounded her heels against Flo’s back. “Come to me, baby.” Flo’s large eyes sparkled with pleasure. Flo’s words drove Merry over the top, again. She came fast and hard. Flo lowered her head, not letting any juices go to waste. Merry lay back, closed her eyes, and covered her pussy with both hands. Both her lovers waited. “You were scrumptious, girl,” Florence said. 72

The Merry Widow “But I want to taste you, too.” “Later. We’ve got time. And we don’t want to leave our hostess out, either.” “I should hope not,” Camille said. “But that was beautiful to watch, Merry. One thing I like about a threesome is I get a different view of what’s happening. Sometimes it’s fun just to watch.” “Maybe I should watch the two of you.” Florence shook her head. “No, this is your night. I’ve been saving up for you for a week.” “Oh.” “Why don’t we snuggle in a sandwich for a few minutes? We can catch up and still be close.” “A sandwich.” “You turn on your side and face me. I’ll cuddle you from the front and Camille will cuddle you from behind.” “I do feel loved.” Merry sighed after getting in position. She wiggled her butt against Camille’s loins and then brushed her pussy against Florence’s.” “You catch on fast,” Florence said. “Be easy. There’s no hurry, and you already had one gigantic orgasm. Or are you greedy?” “Maybe.” Merry leaned back and peered at her friend. “Flo, can I ask you a personal question?” “After what we just did? You ask away, girl. I expect I know what you’re going to ask, but go ahead.” “Does Raymond know about this?” Florence laughed, and then her lips covered Merry’s for a brief moment. “This is Girls’ Night Out, Merry. If don’t ask don’t tell is good enough for the U.S. Army, then it’s good enough for us. He probably suspects, but he doesn’t complain about it. I make sure he gets the best mind-blowing sex I can muster when I get home from Girls’ Night Out.” 73

The Merry Widow Merry dipped her head and wet a dark nipple. “I love your nipples.” “I wish I had bigger tits, but I do have some responsive nipples. It’s like they want to reach out and touch someone.” “Or be touched.” “Right. That does feel good. I’ve been told by some women that going to church choir practice turns them on. They go home afterward and get it on with their husbands, live-ins, boyfriends or whatever. That doesn’t do it for me. But pussy—” Flo winked at Merry, “it doesn’t matter if it’s black pussy or white pussy or brown pussy—pussy turns me on for my man. And he never goes away disappointed on Girls’ Night Out.” Merry traced figure eight patterns from Florence’s breast to the black curls at the apex of her triangle. “You’re revving up my jets. Hopefully, you’re about revived yourself. I can’t wait much longer. But don’t stop on my account. Why don’t you try the other breast?” Merry leaned over, took the proffered breast in her mouth, and swirled her tongue around its nipple. “You’re good, Merry. Hopefully when you settle back down and get your own man, you’ll find one who’s cool with Girls’ Night Out. If not, you may have to be sly about it.” “You mean cheat.” Florence rolled onto her back and pushed Merry’s hand lower. “You can be more assertive now.” Merry slid a finger along the woman’s labia. “Nice and easy, girl. I prefer to call it sharing. Pussy sharing, if you will. Ninety percent of the time I share my pussy with my husband. The other ten percent I share it with women friends or,” Flo stuck her tongue out, “I save it for myself.” “Sort of like profit sharing.” Florence giggled and pressed on Merry’s index finger. “Go on in. Don’t be shy. The door is open.” 74

The Merry Widow Merry slipped her finger into the black woman’s heat. “Hold it right there. Be still. Push up a little. That’s right. Don’t go away.” “I’m not going anywhere.” “You know, Merry, only an accountant would come up with that profit-sharing idea. That’s got real possibilities.” “I don’t know.” Merry shook her head and rested it on Florence’s abdomen. Camille’s hands weren’t idle. They were squeezing Merry’s butt cheeks and sliding up and down the crack of her ass as if undecided where to settle. “I’m not sure men are as much into sharing as women are.” “You may be right about that. They seem to be hardwired in the wrong direction when it comes to sharing. It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about beer, money, or women.” Flo wiggled her bottom. “Honey, I think you better start paying more attention to what’s happening down below. Why don’t you swing your butt around so I get another taste before I have to leave?” “Are we leaving you out, Camille?” Merry asked, settling her pussy over Flo’s open mouth before lowering her own lips to the woman’s waiting pussy. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do.” “Kneel at my head, Cam,” Flo said. “I can finger your pussy and you can help do Merry.” “Sounds like a fun plan to me.” Merry tried to ignore the women’s plans while licking her way around Florence’s pussy folds. She eased a second finger into Flo’s pussy and began rotating both fingers. She pulled them partway out and pushed them back in. She used her tongue to swipe at Flo’s swollen clit. Flo raised her legs, providing an even better view. “That’s it. Stay with it.” 75

The Merry Widow Merry’s heart skipped a beat when a tongue burrowed into her own heat. She pressed her lower torso back, seeking more, but she never let up her assault on the pussy in front of her. Dimly through her erotic haze, Merry sensed a second tongue working its way across her butt cheeks until it rimmed her ass. Good grief, she didn’t have to wonder any longer what it might feel like to have all orifices filled. The second tongue was replaced with a well lubed finger. Holy shit. She was fucking a pussy with her fingers and tongue. And in turn, her pussy was being fucked with a tongue and her ass with a finger. And given Camille’s scream, there was no question Flo had at least some fingers lodged in Cam’s pussy. Flo began to buck in earnest. “Stay with me!” she shouted. “I’m coming.” She tried her best. She sawed her fingers back and forth until her wrist nearly gave out. She clamped down on the clitoris with her teeth. Flo never stopped bucking. And then she gushed. Merry had never seen anything like it. Greedily, Merry ducked her head and lapped. No way could she get it all. Cam would have to change her sheets before settling in for the night. And then Merry’s awareness was overtaken by her own climax. Someone’s tongue—someone’s fingers—it didn’t matter—drove her over the edge and beyond. She collapsed on her friends, her lovers. There was no strength even for shifting weight. “It’s okay,” Florence announced. “You can’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds. Rest a bit while I continue filling my nostrils with your fragrance. Damn, that was good.” It took several minutes before Merry regained full consciousness. Well, she knew she hadn’t actually been out, but she sure hadn’t been present. At last, she managed to slide off of Florence. Camille handed her a freshly brewed cup of tea. She 76

The Merry Widow propped herself in a sitting position against the pillows and sipped the tea. Florence knelt beside her with a grin splitting her face. “I’m glad you came over tonight.” Merry shook her head. “Oh, I came all right.” She grinned. “But then, so did you.” “You better believe it. Hope that wasn’t too much for you. It’s not exactly something I can do much about. I don’t always come that huge, but you brought it on.” “How often do you do Girls’ Night Out? Once a week?” “Don’t I wish! What do you think, Camille? Once or twice a month?” “That sounds about right.” “When the last kid leaves the house, maybe I can move it to once a week. That would be real nice. Well, I can’t lollygag. I’ve got to get home and satisfy my husband.” She beamed a smile. “I think he’s going to be in for a real treat tonight!” Buttoning her blouse, Florence asked, “Merry, does your daughter still operate that catering service?” “Sure.” “I should call her. Raymond and I will be celebrating our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in a couple of months. By the way, you’re all invited. I’m going to have the party catered. What’s the name of Tiffany’s business?” “Simple Creations. She’s in the phone book.” “Good, I’ll give her a call.” Flo leaned over. “Give me a last kiss, Merry. Damn, hope we can do this again some time, soon.” Merry giggled. “Me too, Flo. I enjoyed it a lot.” Merry felt Camille’s eyes on her after Florence headed down the stairs. She turned to face her. “So is Girls’ Night Out a club, Camille?” “What makes you ask?” 77

The Merry Widow “From what Flo says, Girls’ Night Out is fairly routine, something she can count on when she needs it, or wants it.” “You always were a smart girl. I’m not sure we’d call it a club though. It’s a group—an informal group. There’s usually about nine women or so involved. The membership is fluid to a certain extent. You’d recognize all of them. Every woman is bisexual. We don’t have anything against lesbians, but this is a group for bi women. It’s quite exclusive, actually.” “So, how do you join?” Camille smiled broadly. “You were just initiated.” Merry matched her friend’s smile, leaned over, and chewed on Camille’s upper lip. And then she slanted her lips across Camille’s and kissed her thoroughly. She broke off the kiss. “Thank you. I think I’m going to like Girls’ Night Out.” “That’s quite evident. Now what’s wrong? Why are you scowling?” “Tiffany’s not part of this group, is she?” “Of course not. Merry, I don’t know if I should be shocked or irate at such a question. Tiff is my niece. Oh, I know, not a blood niece, but I am her godmother.” “But not her fairy godmother.” “Right.” Camille chuckled. “How many times have I said that over the years? Tiff comes by now and then to cry on a shoulder or to worry about you, but that’s it. I do have some boundaries.” “I know. I know. It was a mistake to ask.” “You’re her mother. In your position, I would’ve asked, too. Enough said?” Merry smiled easily. “Enough said, and I recognize that quizzical look, Cam. Yes, I’m ready for some more loving.” “Good so am I. Come here, girl; the night has hardly begun. Thankfully we don’t have husbands to dash home to.” 78

The Merry Widow Merry raised her lips from her friend’s breast. “That reminds me. Not all of the women are single, right? Flo, for example.” “Don’t stop what you were doing.” Camille guided Merry’s mouth back to her breast. “About half the women are married or have live-in male partners. Some guys know about the group and other don’t. Usually, there’s no more than four women gathered at a time. We live such hectic lives these days.” Camille cradled her unattended breast with both hands. “Try this one. I think it’s more turned on. Oh yeah, it’s the live wire of the pair tonight. Geez, you’re good at sucking. Anyway, to finish answering your question—on rare occasions we invite a man to join us. Never more than one. And rarely that. Not all women want to be here for that. For whatever reason, they don’t want more cock than they have at home. Some of us are less prudish. A real live cock adds a little variety and is often visually satisfying if nothing else. Don’t forget my pussy.” “If you must talk, why don’t you just tell me what you want me to do to you?” “I can do that. Don’t move away from that breast. Skim your hand down to my mound. Just palm it. Let me rock against it. That’s hot. Don’t stop sucking. Oh my, I’m going to have to try and think about the next steps. I hope you’re not in a hurry.” **** Three days had gone by since she’d been with Florence and Camille, as well as one more young stud. Merry arched her eyebrows at her computer. She’d already called Camille to tell her not to refer more young guys. She’d had enough of them, at least for a while. Cam told her she was working on an older fellow who would treat her like a lady. Merry stood and paced. She was beginning to feel like Camille was her pimp. Girls’ Night Out was one thing. Just remembering brought a smile to her lips. She was definitely 79

The Merry Widow looking forward to more nights out. She wondered which other friends of hers were in the group. Camille wouldn’t disclose that information, which was probably good. But men? It was as if Camille didn’t think she could be counted on to entice her own men. What a lame idea that was. Yes, that’s what she needed to work on. Her eyes roved over her bookshelves until they settled on a well-read book: Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Lady Chatterley had seduced the gardener. Merry hugged herself. She was no Lady Chatterley—but she could be. She looked out onto her gardens. She knew she’d seen Ramon earlier in the morning. Yes, there he was, bare-chested and all. But could she seduce him? Did she have the guts to try? This might take some plotting. She’d already showered, but she wasn’t dressed right. Slacks and a grubby t-shirt weren’t going to do it. She poked around in her bedroom until she found what she wanted—one of her tennis outfits: short green skirt and white blouse. She left the green panties behind, picked up a file folder, and walked out onto the patio adjoining her bedroom. She settled back on the chaise lounge. She waved at Ramon, who waved back with a broad smile. Thirty minutes dragged by. Merry went back into the house for a glass of water. She returned and again lay back on the lounge chair. Minutes crept by. Was the guy near-sighted or blind? He knew she was there. But he wasn’t going to come to her. Maybe she should get up and go to him. No, she didn’t exactly want to throw herself at him. She didn’t handle rejection well. Merry breathed the heavily flower-scented air deeply and closed her eyes. There was always tomorrow. She had plenty of time. The sun warmed her flesh. She dozed. 80

The Merry Widow “Jesus H. Christ, woman. Cover yourself. You’ll get a sunburn, or some damn bumblebee will come along and sting you where you don’t want to be stung.” Merry jerked her eyes open. “What?” Where was she? Where had Detective Barnes come from? He had a knack of popping up in unexpected ways. Her eyes lowered to his waist. He was making no effort to cover his arousal. Cover. Oh my God! She used both hands to yank her skirt down. Even that probably didn’t cover much. Tennis skirts were meant to be worn with panties. She cowered, not knowing what to do. Barnes was clearly enraged. He leaned over. His lips were only inches from hers. “If you need a cock so damn bad, Widow Delaney, I’ve got one right here that should more than suffice.” With horror, she watched him try to straighten it. His erection was clearly causing some pain. Did that mean she was causing him some pain? She smiled to herself. Maybe all hadn’t gone awry yet. “Don’t be presumptuous, Detective. Maybe I’m not interested in cock.” “Oh, you’re interested all right. Cock, pussy, it doesn’t seem to matter to you as long as it’s breathing. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be breathing to satisfy you.” “What?” “I’ve seen you with your friend Camille St. Jermaine. You’ve had a string of young guys come in an out of your house—if I didn’t know better I’d think this was a drug house.” “You’ve been spying on me.” Merry lurched to her feet. “Get out. And how did you get back here in the first place? This house has a doorbell, you know.” “Apparently, it doesn’t work.” “Oh.”

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The Merry Widow He dropped a file folder on the chaise. “Here are some more leads I’ve been developing while you’ve been having the time of your life.” “You mean you have time for work in addition to spying on me?” “You are work, lady. You are an investment of sorts. I can’t let you blow this case for us.” He scowled. “As much as I might like to dump you, lady, you’ve become too important to our case. And as you’ll see from my notes, you may be in danger.” “Oh.” “Yeah, you ponder that after you read this file. Hope you don’t suffer too much from sunburn.” He started to walk away. “By the way, I don’t think you’re going to get very far with your gardener. He’s gay.” “Humph.” Merry grabbed the folder and stalked into the house. She sat on the edge of her bed and sobbed. Good grief. Had she ever been more embarrassed? He’d caught her red-handed— well, sort of. She’d bared her pussy before him. He might have raped her. She shook her head at her reflection in the mirror. Jim Barnes could be obstinate, crude, and apparently a spy, but he wasn’t a rapist. She braced herself on her elbows and caught her image in the mirror. Damn, he really did get a view. Now what was she going to do about him? What did he mean she might be in danger? From the mob, or from him? She gathered up the file and headed for her office. Enough with seduction. And her gardener was gay?!

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Chapter 6 Merry squeezed down on the plug protruding from her butt. Would she ever fail to be surprised at the pleasure that simple movement engendered? The phone rang. “Damn.” She pulled the plug out and picked up the phone on the fourth ring. “Hello.” “How are you, Merry?” Merry recognized the voice. “Is that you, Jim?” “Maybe. Are you done playing with the butt plug for the night, or am I calling too early?” “Jim, have you been drinking?” “Don’t I wish!” “How did you know about the plug?” Merry gasped. “Have you been spying on me again? Are you a peeping Tom? I should call the police.” “You’re talking to the police. It’s okay, woman. I’d never hurt you. You must know that.” “I’m pretty certain of that, but I hardly know you.” “You know me well enough.” “But you seem to know me better.” “Oh yeah, I’ve memorized every square inch of your body. You’re gorgeous, Merry. And I’m besotted. Your tits are made for loving. Your bald pussy. Your sweet ass. God, I wish I’d never seen you naked. Now, I can’t see enough of you. It tears 83

The Merry Widow me up to see you giving your body to those other guys, to those women. But I want more than your body, Merry. I want you— body, heart, and soul.” “But I hardly know you.” “You know me. Are you naked?” Merry swallowed. “Yes.” “Do me a favor.” “What?” “Slip that butt plug back in your ass and imagine it’s me.” “Jim!” “Do it.” “Are you watching me? Are you somewhere out there in the bushes?” She heard him laugh. “No, I wish I were. I’m at home on my bed.” “Are you naked, Jim?” “Oh yeah, you better believe it. And I have absolutely no trouble imagining you.” “How can I imagine you, Jim? I’ve never seen you.” “You are getting into this, aren’t you? Have you done phone sex before?” “Never.” “Good. Put your phone on speaker to free up your hands.” “Okay.” “I’d suggest you use a larger butt plug than you’ve been using, Merry. I’m not a slim fellow. But I sure as hell know how to love a lady better than those young studs you’ve been parading your stuff before.” “Okay, I’ll move up a size.” “Don’t forget to lube it well.” “I’m lubing it now.” “Ready.” “I’m ready.” 84

The Merry Widow “Lie on your back and place your feet on either side of your butt.” “Done.” “Line up the plug and push gently inward.” Merry moistened her lips and complied with his request. Her heart pounded. “It’s in a third of the way,” she mumbled. “Take me in slow. Imagine my hard cock partway up your ass. Okay, you should be ready. I’m coming in further.” “Yes, you’re all the way in. You are larger.” “Don’t forget your pussy. Use your other hand. Palm your pussy. Rub your clit. Imagine they’re my fingers.” “I am. I am. Tell me what you’re doing, Jim. Don’t let me come alone.” “I’m beginning to pump faster. My hands are sliding over my cock as if they were the insides of your ass. Are you matching my pace?” “Absolutely.” Merry’s voice faltered. “Can’t hold on much longer.” “I’m coming with you.” “Fantastic.” Merry allowed herself to soar for a minute before pulling her drenched fingers from her pussy and easing the butt plug from her ass. “Did you come?” she whispered. “All over my belly. I wish you were here to lick it up.” “I’ve never done that.” “Good. Save a few things for me.” Merry hugged a pillow to her breasts. “Jim?” “Uh huh.” “We’ve got to talk about this. I can’t have you watching my every move and disrupting my life like this.” “Did you find this very disruptive?” 85

The Merry Widow “No, I don’t mean that.” “So a little phone sex was pleasurable.” “I suppose so, if you must know.” “Oh, I must. How about breakfast?” Merry gulped. “Okay, but not here.” “Paddywack’s at seven thirty.” “That’ll work.” “Fair warning, Widow Delaney. I’ll be coming after you— body, heart, and soul.” Merry couldn’t resist a chuckle. “I hear you, Detective Macho Man, but I’m not sure you’ll get everything you want.” “I’m not a greedy man. And you know what they say: Rome wasn’t built in a day. I have a hunch, lady, you’re worth more than all the gold in Rome. You’ll be surprised to discover how patient I can be.” “We’ll see about that. Good night, Detective.” “Good night, Widow Delaney. Sleep tight. See you first thing in the morning.” **** Merry hadn’t particularly wanted to arrive at Paddywack’s first. Why should it surprise her that accountants were more prompt than cops? Cripes, what was she doing here? What was she doing period? On the one hand she had no idea; on the other she was having the time of her life. It couldn’t continue. But what a ride. What a fucking ride! Even thoughts of last night failed to embarrass her. They were two mature adults. Well, at least they were two adults of age doing something both apparently enjoyed. The question bothering her wasn’t whether last night should have happened. The question was, what happens next? She could probably grapple with that question for weeks, months, possibly years without a reasonable answer. She glanced up from the menu. Fortunately, she didn’t have that long to wait. 86

The Merry Widow “I ordered coffee for both of us,” she said, taking the initiative as Jim took a seat across from her. “Thanks. I could take it in through an IV this morning.” He looked down at his hands and then over at her. The pain in his eyes tore at her innards. “Should I be apologizing for last night?” “Don’t,” she said, “please don’t start there. There’s nothing to apologize for—at least about last night. I was a willing participant. You didn’t coerce me.” “About spying on you—I do apologize for that.” He pulled on his nose, glanced around and added, “At first it was part of my job. I watched you before I ever invited you to help with Fire and Ice. I had to be sure you were clean. Then I had to watch afterward to be certain my assessment was accurate.” He shook his head. “And then I began seeing things I couldn’t believe. I even stopped watching. But I kept coming back for more, like some love-sick kid. You could fry my ass if you’d called my captain.” “I wouldn’t do that.” She pursed her lips. “So much for privacy.” “If you want privacy, pull the damn shades. Close the damn solarium blinds.” “You didn’t!” Jim cocked his head to the side. “You are a goddamn fucking gorgeous woman. I don’t care how old you are. I’m no spring chicken either. But how can you give yourself away like that?” “Don’t you judge me,” Merry hissed. She was pleased to see him move back from her venom. “You’ve not walked in my shoes, mister. You don’t know how left out of life I’ve been. How much I’ve sacrificed, given up, allowed others to degrade me. No, I’m not talking about now. I’m in charge now. I choose to do what I wish with my body—it is my body. It never will be 87

The Merry Widow yours or any one else’s. Never again will I go down that path. I have lost years to make up for, and I’m damn well going to do it.” Jim failed to hide a quirky smile. “You do seem determined to do that, lady. I’ll give you that. What you may lack in common sense, you make up for with guts.” “I’m the most commonsensical woman you’ll ever encounter. Always counted on to do the right thing in a timely manner. Never upset the apple cart—or anyone, for that matter. Just poor old stuck-in-the-mud Merry Delaney. Will she ever get out from under the dark cloud hanging over her?” “You really have been carrying a load. No matter, I want you so badly I’m going to explode if I don’t have you soon.” Merry smiled at the passion burning in the man’s eyes. Yes, she wanted him too, perhaps from the first time he’d stopped by her house. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t give myself to you, Detective. Truth be known, I believe I’ll relish that immensely. I just don’t want you thinking there’s more to it than that, and I do want you to promise you’ll stop spying on me.” “Christ, lady, at this point I’ll promise to go jump into the Chicago River after we’re finished if that’s what it takes to get into your pants.” “No need for such extreme measures, Detective, I may decide I want seconds.” “May I take your orders?” asked the gray-haired waitress. “How hungry are you?” Jim asked. “Not really.” She watched him stand and pull a five out of his billfold and toss it on the table. “Guess the lady’s not hungry for breakfast,” he told the waitress, guiding Merry by the elbow toward the exit. “Here, hop in my car,” he said. “We’ll come back for yours later.” 88

The Merry Widow He jumped in the driver’s seat, put a flashing blue light on the car roof, and squealed out of the parking lot. He glanced at her. “Hold on tight. We’ll be at your place as soon as I can get us there.” Merry tried not to look at the speedometer. He slowed for intersections and used the siren as they whizzed through them toward her house and toward their destiny. She was appalled by how he had taken control. She was thrilled. “I didn’t know we were in such a hurry.” “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a raging fire burning in my pants and you’re the only one who may be able to contain it.” Merry’s laugh started deep in her throat. She dropped a hand to her crotch. “Now that you mention it, I do believe my panties are nearly burning up. Maybe you’ll be able to smother that fire.” “Jesus, woman.” He glanced quickly at her and then back at the traffic. “Don’t say another word. Not one more fucking word. Two minutes. I’ll work on that fire in two minutes.” Merry held onto the door handle as Jim jerked the steering wheel and pulled into her driveway. He sprang out of the driver’s door like a shot before she’d even opened hers. They raced toward her door. She fumbled for her keys and managed to get the door closed before he hauled her into his arms. His lips were hot. There was nothing soft about them. They were demanding, insistent. Her ardor matched his. She had to have more. His mouth scorched her tongue. There was a greedy, frenzied battle of tongue against tongue. She broke off the kiss and roughly pushed his head downward. She had to feel his mouth on a breast; clothing didn’t matter. His heat penetrated blouse and bra. She tossed her head back and howled with pleasure. 89

The Merry Widow Merry yanked at her blouse; buttons scattered on the foyer’s hardwood floor. His hands helped. They fumbled at her bra clasp. She yelped when he lost patience and ripped it apart. And then she discovered Nirvana. Her breast was ensconced in his hot mouth. She moaned. Her brain tripped a switch. Her heart started pumping again. She kissed his dark hair and ran her tongue across his balding spot. She reveled in his responding groans. His mouth clamped down on her breast as if he’d never give it back. Merry closed her eyes and lowered her hands to his belt. Somehow she got it undone, pulled his zipper down, and dipped a hand into his undershorts. She wrapped her fingers around the object of her quest. Her eyes sprang wide open. She gawked at a superfluous knickknack on the near wall. Goodness. If size really did matter, then Detective Barnes really mattered! His hands moved under her skirt and cradled her buttocks, bringing her crotch to bear on his. Merry could vaguely distinguish her groans of anticipation from his. His fingers kneaded her butt cheeks, fueling her fires even more. Air cooled her flesh but not her ardor as his fingers dragged her panties down over her thighs. The panties dropped to her ankles, and she kicked them into the living room. Without taking his mouth off her breast, Jim spun the two of them around so her backside rested against the wall. His fingers clawed at her crotch. He spread her labia and had no trouble slipping two fingers into her pussy. He never paused. He never slowed. He worked those fingers back and forth until she was clinging to him for support. She bit down on his shoulder, trying to hold back her climax. She didn’t want to come without him. She couldn’t stop her wanting if the house was ablaze. She had to have this man—now! Frantically, she reached down and 90

The Merry Widow pulled a condom from her purse, which had fallen to the floor by their feet. With both hands, she pushed his trousers and shorts down. He didn’t bother trying to step out of them. He pulled his fingers from her chamber and watched while she unrolled the condom and fit it over his huge girth, then pressed his cock against her opening. He entered partway. He lifted her, and she complied by wrapping her legs around him and pushing against his cock. He shoved. She stretched, taking all of him. She couldn’t control the inner glow that spread throughout her body. She hung onto his shoulders and squirmed, seating his great pole securely in her chamber. “Damn it to hell,” he groaned. Had she burned him with her heat? And then his hips began to move. “Oh, my God!” She tried to meet him thrust for thrust but soon gave up. He churned faster and faster until she thought both of them were simply a blur. She held on for dear life. His broad shoulders shielded her as his lower body raged on. Without warning, her interior exploded. Her muscles turned to mush. She no longer had strength to hold on. He held her in his arms and continued to drive into her body. Her eyes rolled. She came again. “God, I never—” Words failed to materialize. Thoughts tumbled over themselves. At last, she felt him grow even larger. “Damn.” “Yes, come with me,” she said. “I want all of you.” He pumped his seed until he had no more to give. She was certain he continued long after he had any more to give. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Merry reveled in his loss of control. This man couldn’t get enough of her.

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The Merry Widow Had she ever been claimed, ever been possessed more thoroughly? She remained in his arms, shuddering against his trembling muscles, waiting for her head to clear. Now what? **** At last, he pulled out of Merry and let her feet touch the floor. She stood shakily. She looked up at him and smiled. “Hi. You want some coffee?” Jim Barnes blinked and shook his head. “Hi, yourself.” The cold air against his shriveling cock made him wish he could’ve stayed in her longer, much longer. He rested his forehead on the wall above her shoulder. Bastard! What the hell had he done—acting like some randy young stud? That’s what he got for going without a woman for two years. Well, he’d just had one. A lady at that. Bastard. So what was he going to do with her now? He backed away, lowered her skirt, and pulled up his pants. He buckled his belt and tried to read Merry Delaney’s blue eyes. It was difficult because they were clouded with sexual bliss. No fear. But no warmth either. He’d blown it big this time. He shook his head. “No, I’d better go. I don’t know whether to say I’m sorry.” The hurt in her eyes stabbed at him. “I’m not. But I didn’t plan this.” He raked his fingers through his thinning hair. “I’ve never lost control with a woman like that. If you want another detective assigned to work with you, I’ll understand.” Damn, even her furrowed brow was sexy. She walked into the living room and plucked her panties off the floor. She didn’t bother with putting them on. She just held them as if they were a reminder of his grievous error. There were no buttons left on her blouse, so it stood wide open, framing her still-perky, alert breasts.

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The Merry Widow Jim tried to breathe normally. That wasn’t going to happen as long as he stayed in this woman’s presence. Her lips started to move. He tried to focus on what she was saying. “No apology required. If I remember correctly—my brain is still somewhat fried—I wasn’t holding back any. I don’t want another detective.” Merry gave him a sultry smile. “Your cock will do quite fine. I’ll gladly attest to that.” He crossed the foyer in a flash and crushed her to his body. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her lips while her hands roamed across his back and buttocks. “Jesus,” he exclaimed, feeling himself harden again. “I’m not a twenty-year-old.” “Thank God.” He jerked himself from their embrace. “I don’t know what your game is, lady. I don’t know what you want. But I’m finding it damn hard to walk out of here.” Merry laughed. She actually laughed at him. She gripped his arousal. “You don’t seem to have much difficulty getting hard again.” She dropped her hand. “I’m not into games, Detective. Maybe I’m too old for that. I don’t have any particular wants other than some good, mind-blowing sex— which you’ve already demonstrated the capacity for. That’s all I ask. No strings. No commitments. No expectations. No nothing but hot sex.” “So, I’d be one of many if I sign on.” “Probably.” She never hesitated. She never blinked. “Never done it that way before,” he grunted. Merry smiled at his distress. “Neither have I, but I’m learning it can be quite stimulating—quite invigorating, actually. And after so many years of abstinence, I’m not looking for a lovey-dovey relationship. Maybe someday, but not now. I’ve made a commitment to myself to be open to new sexual experiences, new opportunities.” 93

The Merry Widow “So your commitment is to yourself?” She shrugged. “Yes. And I don’t feel a bit guilty about that. I’ve sacrificed so much of myself because of commitment, I’m setting about to reclaim part of myself.” “So I was merely part of that reclaiming.” “Maybe. I enjoyed it. I think you did, too. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe once was enough. Or maybe you want to stay for coffee.” “No, I really do have to run. Damn, you have the perkiest breasts.” He reached out a finger and grazed the nipple that held him transfixed. She laughed like a seductress, throwing her head back and thrusting her breasts toward him. He bent his head and pecked at an aroused nipple. Her sigh reeled him in. Damn, could he ever get enough of this woman? She was eager for more, again. He reached under her skirt and palmed her still wet pussy. She gasped. He pushed one finger between her folds. Two fingers. Three. Her hips started bucking. He let her ride his fingers until, gasping for breath, she climaxed and collapsed against his chest. Minutes went by before she backed away from him. Her lips formed the word “wow.” He nodded, sniffed his fingers, doffed an imaginary hat, stepped to the door, and walked outside. Had he ever felt more alone? **** He backed the car out of the driveway and headed downtown. So why was he annoyed? Because she had initiated things? Nah, he didn’t have to be macho man all the time. Though pinning her against the wall with his cock probably wasn’t on the list of gentle sex. Then there was that scene afterward. She’d never bothered covering her nakedness. He had never been with a woman so 94

The Merry Widow comfortable with her nudity. There was something about it that made their brief moment so familiar and yet at the same time so provocative. He flipped the radio on. Great sex! Christ, he hadn’t been certain he’d ever stop coming in her pussy. But something was missing. He couldn’t name it, but something was definitely wrong. Would he go back to her? He knew it was up to him. She wouldn’t come on to him again. But he didn’t like her terms. He didn’t like sharing his women. Not that there’d been that many to share after his first wife, who hadn’t minded sharing her body with as many guys on the force as she could con into her bed. He was halfway back to the station before he remembered Merry’s car was still at Paddywack’s. He’d get a squad to help her retrieve the damn car. If he went back now he might never again see the light of day. And that was bad? **** A week and a half went by. No word from her detective. Was he still watching her? Did he give a whit about her? Were they still working on the case together? So what about all the looming danger? Merry glared at her kitchen stove over her second cup of morning coffee. The bastard had to know she wasn’t going to break down and call him. She couldn’t do that. That would put her right back where she’d lived so much of her life—beholden to a man for her identity. No way. Not even for him. Sex with him had been raw, over the top. How could any man measure up after that? She hadn’t tried a man since that rampage in her entryway. She smiled, envisioning her panties flying into the living room. They had been in a rush. Sometimes slow wasn’t best. But this having no man thing was going to change. She’d agreed to go out with one of the older guys Camille had lined 95

The Merry Widow up. The detective could deal with it. If he wasn’t going to be around, he certainly had nothing to complain about. A quick fuck in the foyer hardly passed for commitment. Merry tilted her head to the side. She sure could use a more extensive sample of that particular cock. She smiled. She hadn’t exactly gone without loving. Two nights with Camille kept her from going hungry and kept her from spending all of her waking hours doing a rerun of the foyer escapade. Where is the idiot? **** Detective Barnes sat in his home office, poring over the latest information on the Fire and Ice case. Merry had e-mailed him that the account with the current suspicious vendor had been abruptly closed. How could they have found out? Only he and Merry had put those links together. He hadn’t shared any of it with department personnel. He was quite convinced Merry hadn’t shared it with anyone. So how did they get the information? “Jesus H. Christ.” Could they have bugged Merry’s computer and phone? Why the hell hadn’t he considered that possibility earlier? Would the mob hire an auditor they couldn’t keep tabs on? He checked his watch. Six thirty in the evening. Maybe he’d try scrounging supper off of her. She might not like seeing him after their fuck in the entryway. Hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see her. But she was in real danger now. Somebody knew she was working with him trying to put them in jail. And somebody knew a hell of a lot more about her private life than he thought they should. He grabbed a can of pop from the fridge and ran out the door. Once again, he fastened the blue flasher to the car and drove like a madman toward Merry Delaney’s house. **** He parked in her driveway and ran to the door. She’d gotten the doorbell fixed—he heard it doing its thing. But she 96

The Merry Widow didn’t come to the door. Maybe she was spending the night at Camille St. Jermaine’s again. He might not like that, but it was probably safer. Jim picked his way around back and peered into her office and into her bedroom. Nothing. She wasn’t in the house. Her car was in the garage. That didn’t bode well. Not at all. Had she gone out on another date? He was fairly certain she hadn’t been with a man since their little tryst. That fact had done some positive things for his ego. So how was he going to feel if she was out with a guy? Like a jerk. He should’ve called before now. He went back to his car, drove down the block, and waited. There wasn’t much he could do about anything now. If he blew in on her date, she’d never forgive him. It was unlikely she was going to do anything in one night that would give anyone any more ammunition to use against her. These were moments when he wished he’d given up women instead of smoking. Who the hell had ever conned him into doing that anyway? He opened the glove compartment and slammed it shut. His emergency pack was gone. He’d forgotten to replace it. How long ago was that last cigarette? A year—eighteen months. And that single cigarette had been the result of excruciating pressure. It’d been ten years since he quit smoking. He’d gone cold turkey. He was proud of that. Shit. Why wasn’t it as easy to go cold turkey on the Widow Delaney? Jim sighed and made himself as comfortable as he could. It might be a very long night. Maybe the young stud wouldn’t measure up and would leave early. Hell, she’d had him now. Was she at all as frustrated by all of this as he was?

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Chapter 7 Merry was luxuriating. Mason Downs might be sixty-six, but he was a gallant man. She’d never been treated like such a lady. The silver-haired man had shown up with a bouquet of yellow roses and had taken her to one of the fanciest restaurants in Chicago. He had been a delightful conversationalist, regaling her with stories of his travels around the world. He was a retired paleontologist and had traveled extensively. She’d been spellbound. What a contrast with the twenty and thirtysomething men she’d been with. Mason hadn’t mentioned a single sport—unless she counted a precursor of lacrosse practiced centuries ago in some primitive culture. And now he was disrobing her in her bedroom as if she were a precious wine. She was down to her bra and panties and was already creaming, but Mason wasn’t even breathing hard. He wouldn’t let her help. His fingers trembled ever so slightly when he unclasped her bra. “Ah,” he said, smiling. “As I expected. Twin peaks worthy of poetry.” She lifted her bottom, allowing him to slide her panties down one leg and then the other. He kissed the soles of her feet before commenting. “You are good for an old man’s heart and soul, Merry. Perky breasts match your personality. Your shaved pussy allows for a most provocative presentation. And your labia are filled 98

The Merry Widow with promise for any man or woman, but I expect mostly for one special man.” She shrugged, uncomfortable under his close scrutiny. “You haven’t found him yet?” “I’m not looking.” “You will.” “Now that you have me stripped bare, aren’t you going to join me?” “I will, don’t worry. At this age, slow is the only speed. It’s not optional.” “Take your time.” “I will.” Merry watched him unbutton his shirt, step out of his trousers, place them over the back of a chair, and pull off his socks. He was a deliberate man. He slipped off his briefs and stood before her. She tried not to frown, but she must not have been successful. “Do not worry, Merry. It is more than enough to suffice. Perhaps you could help him find new life. Would you please me by sucking on this cock some? He’ll get hard, I guarantee you.” “Of course. I’ll be pleased to help.” At last she had something to do. She would do all she could to repay this man for his kindness. He deserved more than she could give. Merry lay on the mattress while Mason remained standing at the bed’s edge. She easily took all of him in her mouth. It felt strange having an entire cock in her mouth. She worked her mouth over it and smiled as it grew. She placed a hand at its base and bobbed up and down. It grew longer by a great deal, but it still couldn’t be much fatter than a plump hotdog. She welcomed his satisfied grunts, and then he tapped her on the shoulder. “That’s enough.” He winked at her. “Very pleasurable. So that’s about as big as he gets these days. I admit he’s lost some size, some plumpness with age, but I believe it’ll be quite 99

The Merry Widow adequate for the evening. Cam has told me about your desire for sexual adventure, and I plan on doing my part. I’m sure she’s supplied you with a variety of lubes and oils.” “Yes, I’ll show you.” Merry rolled over to pull the bedstand drawer out. “Very good. Let’s see, this condom will do. And now some lube. By Jove, I believe I’m about ready. What about you?” “I’m doing fine. Where would you like me?” “Why don’t you get on your hands and knees, if that feels okay?” “Sure.” Certainly, he wasn’t going to try the wheelbarrow. He wouldn’t be able to lift her for long, if at all. “You do have a marvelous ass.” She flinched slightly when his lips caressed her butt cheeks. He didn’t seem bothered. He used his tongue to trace her suntan line. He reached around and palmed her pussy. Her breathing faltered. His tongue dipped into the crease between her buttocks. He dipped lower. His tongue rimmed her anus. Her thoughts jumbled. Thank God she’d showered. My God, what kind of magic did this man have in his tongue? He plowed his tongue deeper. Even Camille hadn’t gone this far. He pulled out. She felt relieved and lost. “A most marvelous ass, my dear. Ready for plucking. I understand I am to be your first.” Merry canted her head about. “What?” “Your asshole. It is a virgin—save for butt plugs, fingers, and tongues, of course.” Oh my God. Her eyes rounded as she stared at the bed board. This was Camille’s doing. But then she’d said she wanted to experience new sexual adventures. And he was right, she was a virgin—of sorts. Well, why not do it with this gentle man? She’d probably already taken larger butt plugs. 100

The Merry Widow She nodded at the man’s reflection in the mirror. “It is with pleasure that I give you my virgin ass. Go ahead and take it with my blessings. Be my Sir Knight.” The man bowed in return. He smiled softly. “Madam, I know it will be my pleasure, and I will do everything in my power to make it as pleasurable for you. With all of that said, I’m going to apply some lube directly on your anus.” Merry licked her lips and tried her best to remain open to his lubed finger. “Well done, my lady. This shouldn’t hurt. If it does, tell me and we’ll go slower. Okay, I’m at your dark portal. I’m pushing in a wee bit.” Her natural reflex was to tighten. “Relax. Have confidence. Your muscles will open up.” Merry gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and concentrated on her inner muscles. She sighed as she recognized the nowfamiliar delayed relaxation response. “There—a little more. Good. How are you doing?” Merry nodded her head. “I’m doing fine.” She chuckled. “I didn’t realize it’d be this easy.” “Perhaps there is something positive to be said about a slim cock.” She felt him ease further in. His hips pressed against her buttocks. “By Jove, we’ve done it. You’ve swallowed me up.” He leaned over. Merry felt his warm breath on her back. His hand returned to her clit. This was no trial run. He was determined to bring her off while up to the hilt in her ass. “Are you ready?” he asked. “More than ready. I want you to come in my ass.” “Damn, what I’d give to do that, Merry Widow,” he said, pulling out and driving back in. “She told you my name.” 101

The Merry Widow “Of course. It’s a lovely name, fitting for one who seeks sexual prowess.” Merry watched the man close his eyes and lose himself in giving her pleasure. She tried to focus on their image in the mirror, but the sensations emanating for her ass threatened to shut down every other sensory monitor. He felt so smooth gliding in and out. He was turning quite red. She freed his hand by placing her own on her clit. With newfound force and energy, he reared and slammed back into her ass. She was opening so wide it felt like she might actually swallow him whole. Her orgasm came suddenly. She had to drop her hand from her clit to brace herself. She screamed to the walls, to the lovely man buried in her ass, to the gods—“Come with me. Please come with me. I want you to feel this.” She blinked her eyes shut and opened them in time to see Mason jerk wildly. His screams merged with hers. “So long. It’s been so long. You truly are a gift.” He pulled out and collapsed by her side. He tore the condom off. She covered him with her hand and held him. Together they cried. “I’m sorry, Merry. I didn’t mean to cause you pain, to make you cry.” She shook her head. “These aren’t tears of pain; they’re tears of joy. Thank you for making me a complete woman. Thank you for taking such care. And thank you for not holding back. I needed you with me. Even if this is our only time together, I needed you with me tonight. Please don’t go. Stay and cuddle.” “Of course. But I am the one who should be thanking you. I haven’t come since my dear wife died six years ago.” “Shh. No more words. Let’s just cuddle.” **** 102

The Merry Widow The next morning, Jim Barnes shook his groggy head in disbelief. What the hell did she see in that old geezer? And he’d spent the entire night. Maybe he should ring the doorbell and make sure the guy was still alive. He had the look of a mortician, or maybe a cadaver. Clearly, his partner wasn’t just into women and young studs. What the hell did that guy have that he didn’t have? Class, you bastard. Class. He’d seen the yellow roses in her bedroom. The guy probably took her to a fancy restaurant, too. She hadn’t even saved her ass for him. Son of a bitch. He wouldn’t have been in the bushes if she hadn’t been in so much danger. But she was torturing him. He was torturing himself. At least the old fart had been gentle with her. Probably more gentle than he’d ever be. Christ, he’d almost raped her in the foyer. Or maybe she’d almost raped him. It didn’t matter now. Son of a bitch. He’d let her slip through his fingers. He’d had her. And he let some rich bastard come and take her away from him. He growled at the sight of the Mercedes pulling out of Merry’s driveway. At least she wasn’t with him. No matter what, he still had a job to do. Once again he pulled into her driveway, got out, and rang the doorbell. He leaned on the damn thing until the door was yanked open. Merry, dressed in a thin robe, scowled at him. “Oh, it’s you.” “And a happy good morning to you too, woman. Rough night?” “Not at all,” she said, looking at him quizzically. “Why are you here, Detective Barnes? And why didn’t you shave?” “I’ll shave when I want to. So how was he?” “Who?” Her eyes widened. 103

The Merry Widow “Lover boy. I saw him leave. Thought you were into young, muscle-bound guys. Now you’re taking on geriatric cases?” “Don’t fret about me, Detective. If you must know, he was a much more considerate lover,” she looked him square in the eye, “than I’ve had for a long time.” “He filled your ass nicely, that’s for sure.” The slap was quick and loud. “Get out!” she screamed. “You must be some demented idiot to spy on me.” He shoved her against the wall hard, harder than he intended. “Don’t you ever slap me, woman. Not unless you want to be slapped back.” He placed a hand against the wall on either side of her head and pinned her there with his body. He tried to ignore her breasts crushed against his chest and his pelvis pressing against hers. “Listen and listen good. I only watched long enough to make sure the guy wasn’t going to croak.” He lowered his lips. He could feel her breath. “Turns out I’m not your biggest problem, lady. Your computer may have been hacked and your phones and house may be bugged.” She parted her lips to scream. He covered those lips with his own. Her scream echoed down his throat. Her eyes rounded. And then closed. Her lips became active; her tongue sought his. He didn’t disappoint. They tangled like warriors until they both broke away, gasping for breath. She wiped the back of her hand across her lips and started to speak. He was sure he wasn’t going to like what she was going to say, so he clamped a hand over her mouth. She struggled and then calmed. “I’m not going to hurt you. You know that, right?” She nodded. He removed his hand. “We can discuss us later. First, we have to secure this place.” “What us?” she demanded. 104

The Merry Widow “Us! That wasn’t me kissing the damn wall a moment ago. You weren’t buried in a damn romance novel. That was me you were kissing. That was my cock you were rubbing your pussy against. If I’d wanted, we’d be writhing on that floor and you’d be as happy as a clam who escaped the clambake. Don’t even try to deny it, woman.” “But last night—” “That was last night.” Jim sighed deeply. “Merry, we’ve got to set up some protective measures. And I’m not talking about condoms.” “Oh.” “You power up your computer. Start running whatever security checks you can; I’m positive you’ve been hacked. I’ll check your phones and the rest of the house for bugs.” **** Half an hour later, Merry continued testing software with a variety of security programs. Reluctantly, she had to admit he was right on a lot of counts. Her computer had been breached; she was trying to figure out how and by whom. And she would’ve made wild, passionate love with him on her entryway floor, in the living room, wherever—it didn’t matter. But how could he be so certain? And he’d seen her last night with Mason. She smiled to herself. Secretly, she’d sort of hoped he might be out there somewhere with his binoculars, watching, agonizing. It served him right for putting her through a week and a half of misery. And Mason Downs had a spectacular evening. She was certain he had no complaints. And he’d made it clear he had no expectations. That part was easy. But what did Jim Barnes expect of her, of them? And perhaps even more troubling—what did she expect? They had a lot to discuss, if they could keep their clothes on long enough. Of course, clothes weren’t really a prerequisite for conversation. 105

The Merry Widow She looked up from the computer screen to see the object of her concern stalk into her office. He didn’t look any more relaxed than earlier. He held out his hand to her. She saw three tiny objects. She cringed away from his hard stare. “So tell me. What are they? Where did you find them?” “Each of your three phones was tapped.” “Shit. You were right about the computer. I don’t know why the security programs didn’t block the hacker. Somebody knows what they’re doing. You didn’t find anything else?” “No. No other bugs. I’ll have specialists come in and double-check. I’m not an expert on that, but I’ve checked the obvious.” “So we don’t know if anyone is listening as we speak.” “Probably not.” Merry slammed a fist on her desk. “This is too much. Having you spy on me from bushes is one thing, but this guy or woman is lurking in my space.” “As I said, Merry, I doubt they have the house bugged. We’ll know for sure in a couple hours. I’ve already called in for assistance.” “Good. I don’t like this, Jim. Not one bit.” She chewed on her lower lip. “It’s scary.” “I know it is. Come on,” he said, offering her a hand. “Let’s go outside. Just in case.” She grabbed his hand and led the way out onto the patio. “Would you hold me, please?” She directed him to the chaise lounge and sat on his lap. “Put your arms around me, please. I’m chilled. I’ve never been this scared. I was just trying to help—to help those young girls stay off drugs.” She laid her head on his shoulder. His arms curled around her. For the first time since he’d stepped into her house this morning, she felt safe. She shook her head. “Somebody has 106

The Merry Widow actually been in my house to bug my phones.” Her voice faltered. “This will come to an end soon.” She was comforted by his lips on top of her head. She leaned back and parted her lips. He didn’t hesitate to accept her invitation. This was a gentle kiss. The first gentle kiss they’d shared. It was nice to know he was capable of gentle. She pulled away and again dropped her head on his shoulder. Her breathing steadied. She might make it through all of this yet. “So did my discoveries merit all of this computer hacking and telephone bugging? Why didn’t they just close up shop and move on like you feared they’d do if they discovered we were on to them?” “I’m not sure, Merry. I’ve been mulling that much of the night. Well, not just that.” She thought she should poke him for that, but she didn’t. “I’m wondering if you have other audits or accounts that are mob connected that my department is not privy to. It does seem obvious that you were being used. It wouldn’t cost them any more to use you more than once.” “Good grief. That could be like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. I have hundreds of accounts when you add the auditing in with my straight accounting clients.” “My hunch is it would be new accounts—at least within the last five years. It’s likely some firm—maybe even Fire and Ice— was the test case. You didn’t see anything wrong—so they added another and another. You may be a much bigger threat than we originally thought.” “Five years. That would be after I moved my office here and after Dan became so ill. I certainly had my hands full then. Probably more vulnerable to missing things that I might otherwise have seen.” 107

The Merry Widow “As we’ve said, it’s difficult to see some things unless you’re looking for them. There’s your doorbell. Why don’t you stay out here? Or,” he chuckled, “you might want to go get dressed and then come back outside. You never know what you’ll find in your bushes.” Merry leaped to her feet. “I forgot I only had a robe on.” Jim laughed and followed her into the house. “I didn’t forget.” **** An hour later, Jim came to the patio with news. “Everything else checks out fine. No more bugs.” Merry placed her yellow pad aside. “Whew. Good for that. Have they left?” “Yeah, it’s just us. Any more ideas?” “I’ll have to check the computer files. It’s a little surprising they didn’t erase the files.” Jim crossed his arms. “Could they do that from a remote site?” “They could, but they must know an accountant or an auditor will keep backup files. Sometimes backup to backup files.” “That doesn’t make me feel any better about you being here by yourself.” “Nor me. But it does mean we need to work on those files as quickly as possible.” She rose and headed for her office. She heard him tagging along behind her. That was good. She didn’t particularly want to be left alone yet. All of this cloak-anddagger stuff was going to take some getting used to. She’d wanted some adventure in her life, but being a possible target of the mob was much more adventure than she ever bargained for. **** Four hours later, she knew her eyes were going to cross if she stared another minute at the numbers scrolling up her 108

The Merry Widow computer screen. She’d been over half of her accounts and had found four more possible candidates for further investigation. She glanced over at the couch. Detective Barnes was capable of emitting a fairly powerful snore now and then. She rubbed her temples. She could probably get used to that. She shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes. “Hey,” she said. “Hey, yourself.” “You want something to eat?” “What did you have in mind?” She gave him what she hoped was her fiercest, hands-off scowl. But he wasn’t having any of that. He set her down on his lap. She wiggled her butt and felt his arousal growing harder by the second. He tugged her down on top of him and kissed her. She propped an elbow on his chest and stared at him. “I know what you want, Detective. But you must exercise some patience. This woman is hungry for some food. I haven’t eaten since toast and coffee this morning. You may recall we skipped lunch.” “I never noticed.” “When did you eat last? Food!” His brow furrowed. “Yesterday noon, I think.” “Cripes, my good man. If you expect to keep up with me, you’d better consume some vittles.” “Okay. You’ve convinced me. I did like that part about trying to keep up with you.” Merry shoved off of him and headed toward the kitchen. “You were supposed to,” she said, grinning over her shoulder. **** Within minutes, Merry had prepared trays of sausages, cheeses, crackers, and assorted fruit. Jim had opened a wine bottle and carried two wineglasses as she led him down the hallway through her bedroom to the adjoining patio. She set the 109

The Merry Widow food down and pulled out a chair. “I assume you are quite familiar with this area. No guided tour necessary.” “Nope. That won’t be necessary.” “So are you going to tell me why you followed me and spied on me?” She chewed on a grape and spit out the seed. “As I’ve already told you, at first I needed to know you weren’t running to the mob with my story.” “Okay. I’ll give you that one. That’s when you saw me at Camille’s?” He nodded. “Sounds like you were quite impressed with my friend’s kitchen table.” “Absolutely. I want one just like it.” Merry cut herself a thick piece of sausage and tore off a bite. She chewed, giving her picnic mate time to squirm. “So how long did it take to convince you I wasn’t a mob informant?” “Not long. A few days at most.” “So why did you spy on me and my friends after that?” Jim sipped his wine and never batted an eye. “I had to know what the mob might use against you as possible blackmail.” “Oh.” Merry pursed her lips. “I suppose that’s plausible. That couldn’t have taken more than two or three weeks. You know, to discover the other women and the guys visiting my house. And you were clear this wasn’t a drug house.” “You’re right, of course. If you really want to know, Widow Delaney, I became obsessed with you. With your body. With your wild escapades. At first, I couldn’t figure you out. And then I had to have you. You were wasting yourself on all those young Turks. And I was in the wings more than willing to serve you.” “And more than able, I will add on your behalf. But you do have an ego, Detective Barnes. Why did you wait a week and a half to come back to me?” 110

The Merry Widow “Why didn’t you call?” “I asked you first.” “It was stupid to wait. I didn’t want to appear as if I needed you. I wanted you to come to me.” “You thought since I’d experienced your world-renowned cock, no other would suffice.” “Something like that.” “Do men often think with their cocks? Ignore that question. It was rhetorical and inflammatory.” “Well, you don’t want to be inflammatory, now do you?” She managed a smile around a piece of cheese. “Not yet,” she said with her mouth full. She sipped more wine and swallowed. “And what of last night? You seemed to have been in your perch or whatever, again.” “Oh, yeah. I learned of the computer hacking and I was suspicious of your phones. So I raced over here to protect you.” “I see.” Merry bit into an orange, which squirted in Jim’s direction. He reached for a napkin and wiped the table. “So from where you sat,” she motioned toward the numerous bushes ringing her yard, “did it look like I needed protecting last night?” “Not really. You’re damn good at asking questions, Merry. Now I have a few for you. Did you think I was out there last night? That I was watching that gentleman fuck you in the ass?” Merry tapped her lips with a napkin. “It did occur to me to wonder.” “And did that turn you on—wondering if I was watching?” “Maybe. Did watching me turn you on?” Jim stood. “I don’t know about you, Widow Delaney. But I believe we should append a big ‘to be continued’ sign on this conversation so we can retire to your bedroom. I expect—as planned—you have both of us on an erotic edge.” Merry stood and began collecting the plates. “Is that a complaint?” 111

The Merry Widow “Not at all; more like a sense of urgency.” “I do declare, Detective,” Merry said in her southern drawl, “you seem to have an instrument in your pants that’s looking for relief.” She reached over and squeezed his erection. “Leave the damn paper plates and food,” he growled. “But they might blow away, and the squirrels—” “I’ll see to it later. We have more important things to tend to. Come on, Merry, or you’re going to talk me into climaxing in my pants.” “That would be a tragic waste.” Merry grabbed his hand and led him through the sliding door into her bedroom. She was unbuttoning her blouse and sliding off her skirt before she heard the sound of the sliding doors clicking and the blinds being drawn. She smiled. “I hope you know I left them open for you.” “Thought that might have been the case. God, here we are, Widow Delaney. You can’t believe how often I’ve fantasized about this.” “It’s crossed my mind more than once. You have a huge erection, Jim. Maybe we should take care of him first. And then get some more wine. We have all night.” “Hell. We have longer than that. What did you have in mind?” “Nothing too elaborate. Just this.” Merry jerked his belt out of his pants and pushed his pants and shorts down his muscled thighs and legs. She lifted one foot and then the next, freeing him of the clothing. She ignored his fumbling at his shirt buttons. She saw what she wanted. It was weaving before her. She knelt and grabbed his cock with both hands. “You’re right,” she said, “he’s bigger than any butt plug I own.” She licked her tongue the full length of its underside. She traced the soft ridge of its head and slipped him into her mouth. 112

The Merry Widow He was so ready. She squeezed him at the base. She wanted to have some fun before letting him come. Leaving one hand at the base of his cock, she reached around with the other to squeeze his buttocks and pull him closer. Even she was amazed at how much of him she’d managed to take in. Maybe not all, but damn close. She might want to perfect that skill later. She backed off slowly and settled back down on him, pressing his ass harder. She skimmed a finger down the crease of his rear. He pushed against her. She wanted to smile. There might not be any more need for practicing her oral techniques— she had all of him. The back of her throat ached with wanting. His hands settled on her head—pleading, urging, begging. She liked that a lot. No need not to reward him. She backed off some and then bobbed up and down, with her hand following her mouth. Her finger settled on his anus just enough to let him know she was there and that she was promising more. His fingers dug into her ears. Jesus, she hadn’t planned on coming, but there she was threatening to bubble over before he did. No way. She quickened her pace. His growling filled her ears, and then he came. His hips pumped against her hand and mouth. She swallowed quickly. She was determined not to lose a drop. At last his hips stilled, but her hand didn’t. She milked every last bit she could get from him. Finally satisfied, she dropped him from her mouth. Her lungs filled quickly. She rose and let him gather her in his arms, then suddenly lost herself in their kiss. Merry pulled away. “Maybe I should pour some more wine and then get undressed.” “The undressed part is a must.” His voice was husky, even for him. “The wine is optional. I thought you said you didn’t swallow cum.” 113

The Merry Widow “I said I hadn’t.” She grinned at his questioning look. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t. You were my first.” **** Jim grinned at Merry stepping naked back into the room, carrying a tray with two wineglasses and a bowl. That was a view he’d never tire of. “I’ve found some fresh strawberries to go along with the wine,” she said, setting the tray down on the bedstand. I have cream, or something that approximates cream, if you want.” “Don’t bother. Strawberries, wine, and you will do quite fine. I can’t think of a better menu.” “Looks like you’ve recovered nicely. Thought it might take longer.” “Don’t always count on him bouncing back this fast.” “Is he a fickle lad when the novelty wears off?” “Hope not.” “Me, too.” “So does this make us lovers?” Jim asked, handing her a glass of wine when she settled next to him, propped up on the pillows. “By the way, I like all your mirrors.” “Sometimes they make me a little claustrophobic. I’ve been thinking about taking some out.” “Don’t.” She looked at him sharply. “Please. Not yet.” “Okay. So what’s this about us being lovers? This ought to be good.” “You’ve only had one guy sleep over. The old gentleman was probably too exhausted to drive home. The young guys were out of here in two hours. Tops.” “Very tops. So you think you’re staying the night.”

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The Merry Widow “I expect to be in your back pocket for at least the next forty-eight hours or so until we get a better handle on what’s going on.” “Oh. Right. I forgot. Isn’t that convenient? But that’s your job, to protect me. That doesn’t make us lovers.” “Maybe, but this little fact does.” “What fact?” “You’ve never invited a guy back once he’s given you what you wanted.” “Humph.” Merry crossed her arms under her breasts. No doubt she knew full well the effect that would have on her breasts and on him. “I don’t remember inviting you back. I remember almost throwing you out.” “But you didn’t.” “No, I didn’t.” “So we’re lovers.” She wrinkled her nose. Damn, he loved the way she turned her nose up in disdain, particularly when he knew she didn’t mean it. “I guess we’re lovers for the moment. Although it’s hard to know, given all the talking you’re doing. Just because you had a splendid orgasm doesn’t mean we’re done.” “I’m nowhere close to being done, Widow Delaney.” He tried not to writhe as her fingernail dragged across his chest from nipple to nipple. She tapped a nipple with a finger pad. “If you must call me something other than Merry, I have a suggestion. Widow Delaney sounds rather dowdy. Camille has called me the Merry Widow, and that tag seems to have caught on with others.” He smiled and laughed. “The Merry Widow. I’ll be damned if it doesn’t fit. Who am I to rock the boat? The Merry Widow it is. If you’re willing, I’d be pleased to tend to some of your 115

The Merry Widow needs. Hopefully, I can live up to this Merry Widow image you’ve been cultivating.” “I’m willing,” Merry whispered. “And I expect you’ll be more than able.” “You are a feast for a king, Merry Widow. If you but lie down a bit, I will go about setting my table. Thank you. This is excellent wine. It is about to become superb wine. First, I sprinkle a little on each breast. That will add to the wine’s bouquet, don’t you think?” He smiled at Merry’s widening eyes. She remained silent, letting him orchestrate the feast. “Perhaps a trail of wine leading to your belly button in case I lose my way. Ah, and then there is that glorious crème de la crème pussy of yours. Cleanly shaven, brazenly displaying, to those lucky enough to see, lips as full as grapes ready for harvest. A little more wine from navel to pussy.” She flinched. “Sorry if that tickled.” “It’s okay. Continue, please.” “A little eager, are we? Ah yes, where was I? I should probably baste those lips with wine, but how best to do it?” He peeked at her, and she grinned wildly, sticking out her tongue suggestively. “I do believe you’re right. No better brush than a tongue.” He dipped his tongue in his glass and brushed the wine over her puffy labia. He chuckled at her hips gesturing for more. He shook his head. She relaxed. “Sometimes I think, Merry Widow, you are most gorgeous when you pout like that. Don’t worry, we won’t leave your pussy wanting. But not yet. Not nearly yet.” He knelt beside her and examined her flesh. The woman was quivering in the most delightful places. “I nearly forgot the strawberry. Shall we spread a little strawberry juice along the same path as the wine?” He shook his head. “No, that might take too long even for me.” Merry’s audible sigh pleased him. “But, I 116

The Merry Widow know a place for one of these scrumptious strawberries to reside. It will become the hidden prize of the feast.” He lifted several strawberries and scrutinized them closely before he found one just right. “Let’s hide this one, shall we? I may need a little help with this.” Merry tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin. She reached down with both hands to part her folds. “Yes, there is the portal. It stands open, awaiting its prize. Let’s just pop this berry in like so and cover it up like this.” He leaned back and applauded. “I believe we’re ready.” He thought he heard her mumble, “I hope so.” “What did you say?” he asked. She shook her head and lifted her breasts for him, encouraging him to begin his feast. He nodded and licked the wine from one breast and then from the other. He took a nipple in his mouth and then as much of the breast as he could manage. Merry’s breathing came in small gasps. Her sounds were the only ones to be heard other than his smacking lips. He left her breasts and shook his head. “I doubt I could ever get enough of those.” He followed the trail of wine to her navel. He rimmed it with his tongue and chuckled at her quivering abs. From there he continued downward to her loins. He licked the folds of her pussy. He licked them thoroughly. He peeked up at the Merry Widow and smiled. She had her eyes closed and her teeth clenched. Good, she wouldn’t soon forget this feast. He pushed his tongue into her vulva, seeking the strawberry. He’d hoped to be able to grab it with his teeth, but his tongue only pushed it in further. “I guess the strawberry thinks it’s found a home.” He pushed a finger in and then a second. “Ah, here it is. I have it.” He plucked it out and clenched it between his teeth. “The prize must be shared with the hostess,” he said, pressing the berry to her parted lips. 117

The Merry Widow Merry giggled but kept herself reasonably under control— not words he often used when thinking of her. She opened her mouth, bit off half the strawberry, and chewed it thoroughly. “I believe another prize awaits my attention,” he said, sliding back down her body until he was lodged between her hips with his face buried in her pussy. She wrapped her legs tight around his torso as if to keep him from escaping. He probed gently with his tongue, and then more vigorously. Her hips began the kind of movement that would guide him the rest of the way. He snaked a hand over her hooded clitoris and stroked it, enticing the hardening flesh out of hiding. Merry nearly exploded off the bed. She came, and he smiled, with her juices flowing down his chin. Her heels pounded his backside, and she came again. The Merry Widow was insatiable, but he’d love to spend a lifetime trying to satisfy her. She mewed his name in the aftermath of lovemaking. Had he ever heard a sweeter sound?

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Chapter 8 Slipping carefully out from under the sheet, Merry stood and raked fingers through her matted hair. She glanced at the large man asleep in her bed and smiled. She reached for a wrapper and padded toward the kitchen. Humming softly, she started the coffeepot, grabbed a couple of mugs, and waited. Her mind lurched about, trying to find a single line of thought. Several muscles she didn’t know she had screamed for help—they needed either a massage or to be used again. She grinned. The night was a blur and unforgettable. So strong and yet so gentle. She’d reveled in Jim’s strength, and she’d basked in his gentleness. Had she ever been loved before? She poured herself a cup of coffee and swallowed the strong, hot liquid. It was soothing as well as stimulating. Love. That was a dangerous word. One night didn’t make for love. But she had been loved—that was crystal clear. Detective Jim Barnes was a strange mixture of a man. She had her hands full with him—yes, she chuckled, in more ways than one. But she had to be careful. He’d warned her on the phone that he wanted her body, heart, and soul. She’d willingly given him her body. Her heart and soul were another matter. **** Jim smelled her first and then the coffee. He inhaled, trying to keep both separate—she still smelled of arousal and sex. The 119

The Merry Widow coffee was richly aromatic, the way he liked it. He opened his eyes. There she was, standing by his side, holding out a cup of coffee. She wasn’t smiling as he might have expected. She looked thoughtful. She wore a blue-striped wrapper that she hadn’t bothered to tie—thank God. The Merry Widow looked luscious the morning after. “Good morning. Thanks,” he said, sitting up to accept the coffee. “This is a necessity.” Merry didn’t say a word. She walked around the bed and reclaimed her place beside him. Sunlight poured through the skylight above the blinds. Early-morning rays shone upon the crystal figurine he’d noticed the night before. He sipped his coffee. “It’s beautiful. Awesome, actually.” “What?” Merry startled as if she’d forgotten he was there. “The butterfly emerging from its cocoon—the way the rays of sun shine through and bounce off it. I almost expect the butterfly to fly away.” “It is a lovely piece. My daughter gave it to me when I moved into this room. It’s supposed to symbolize my transformation, I guess.” “What are you transforming into?” “I don’t know.” “Well, it’s a beautiful piece of art, only surpassed by your own beauty.” Merry grinned softly at him. That smile could liquefy him if he looked at her too long. “You can spin the words, Detective.” He gave her his version of a pout. “I like to think you got more than words last night.” Merry closed her eyes and twisted her head back and forth. She opened her eyes, and her lips parted in a warm smile. “Last night—this morning. Much more than words. My muscles are reminding me, in case I forgot. At this age, I didn’t know I had that much stamina. I lost track of my orgasms.” 120

The Merry Widow He chuckled at her coloring cheeks. “I didn’t know you were counting,” he teased. “After half a dozen big ones, I stopped counting—or thinking, for that matter. I never tried to count the smaller ones.” She tapped the tip of his nose with a finger. “I hope a body doesn’t have a finite number of orgasms for a lifetime.” “I do like the way you come so often. And you can be quite demonstrative about it, too.” He ducked the elbow she threw at him. “I’m serious. Sometimes you use words. And other times you’re silent, but your entire body is screaming. It’s a real turnon for a guy to be with an expressive woman.” “Well, I hope so, since you happen to be in bed at the moment with an expressive woman. I noticed you weren’t exactly the silent type in the throes of lovemaking either.” “Yeah.” He downed more coffee. “That’s the way it is. So, no second thoughts?” “What’s there to think about?” “Coy doesn’t befit you this morning, Merry. When you came in with the coffee, you weren’t exactly a carefree spirit. You don’t know what to do with me. And you’re wondering what I’m expecting of you.” “Having a guy sleep over and making love with him countless times does tend to complicate things.” “I’ve been called a lot of things. I not sure anyone has called me a complication—at least to my face. So what are we going to do?” “About Fire and Ice?” “Don’t be a ninny. That’s small potatoes compared to this. About us. What are we going to do about us?” “Is there an us without Fire and Ice? I would’ve never met you otherwise.” Merry set her coffee cup down, reached for a brush, and ran it through her hair. 121

The Merry Widow “Why do I have this feeling you want to talk about us, yet you’re trying to flee from this conversation?” She shrugged. She was beginning to try his patience. “You’re right, without Fire and Ice in the first place there would be no us—we would not have met. But there was. And we did. And we’ve made fantastic love. And now there’s an us.” “But,” her voice cracked, “what does that mean?” She was scared. He’d have to be cautious. She could run away from him as quickly as a deer if he didn’t play his cards right. “It means whatever we want it to mean.” “Oh.” “Damn, Merry, you are an expert with the one-word responses. Sometimes you chatter away to the point that my ears begin to ache, and then you have these one-word comebacks.” “I’m sorry if I strain your ears.” “Jesus. You’re not going to help at all, are you?” She looked at him with doleful eyes. Is she going to cry? His heart stopped. She shook her head. “I can’t, not yet.” The only word he liked in that sentence was yet. “Okay. Let’s review what we are. Is that all right?” She nodded. “The background is this damn case that’s brought us together. And we will take care of that in due time, trust me on that. Okay?” “I’m trying.” “Great. And we’re two mature, single human beings who have found a certain level of mutual attraction. A strong level, from my point of view. Are you with me?” “I won’t deny the strong attraction.” “Good. Because if you did, you’d be lying. So where does that leave us? We’re probably not ready to walk down the aisle 122

The Merry Widow and say our I dos and ride off into the sunset like in one of your romance novels.” She gave him a menacing look. “Not all of them end that way.” “I wouldn’t know; I haven’t read any.” “Well, maybe you should,” she huffed. “Maybe you’d learn something.” Jim grunted. “I think we’re getting off track again. What about us?” He scrunched his mouth. How much could he get? Could he get anything? He looked at her pebbled nipples. It sure as hell was worth the try. “I’m not big on sharing.” She seemed to focus on the tip of her nose. She refused to look at him. “I didn’t figure you were.” “But I don’t imagine you’re ready for a committed relationship.” She shook her head vigorously. “Nope. I don’t know that I ever will be.” “But you enjoyed last night. Isn’t that worth exploring further?” “Depends on what you mean by exploring.” She turned to face him directly. She folded her arms. She’d come to some kind of decision. Had he pressed her too far, too quickly? “I hardly know you, Jim. I’m just getting to know myself. I know that sounds outlandish at forty-two years old, but that’s the way it is. I am not ready to settle into some kind of exclusive relationship. If that’s what you want—if that’s what you have to have, then you’d better get dressed and walk out of my life.” “I won’t do that. Not with Fire and Ice hanging over us.” He tried not to sound bitter. “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed having sex with you.” She held up her palm to stop him from speaking. “And I felt loved, Jim. Really loved. I imagine that’s the only way you can have sex with a woman—really love her in the moment. But a moment isn’t a 123

The Merry Widow week, a month, or a lifetime.” She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “I’m willing for us to be together from time to time. Maybe it would be fun to get to know you better. Maybe I’ll dislike you the more I know you. Maybe you’ll dislike me the more you find out about me, though I’m not sure there’s much left for you to find out. “And I do want you to stop spying on me.” Jim shook his head. “I’ll try not to pry, but I won’t be far away until you’re out of danger.” “Aren’t there any other cops?” Damn. He was getting nowhere, or worse, digging himself into a hole that had no bottom. “I’d better get dressed and head back to my place. I haven’t changed clothes in over forty-eight hours.” He stood. “So I’m still one of the guys—or should I say, guys and dolls?” Her eyes turned cold. “I think we need some space. And you’re right. I won’t give up Camille or the others—not now. Maybe never. If you want to play with me, Detective, those are the rules.” “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” “Once I make up my mind.” “But I had you debating with yourself earlier, didn’t I?” Merry got out of bed and stood nearby while he pulled on his pants and shirt. He scowled at her. Again, she hadn’t bothered to tie her wrapper. He buttoned the last button on his shirt, reached over, and pulled her to him with the wrapper tie. He folded the wrapper over her breasts, covered her loins, and knotted the tie. “Be careful with those treasures. I may yet want to claim them.” She gave him a curious smile. “I thought chastity belts went out centuries ago.” 124

The Merry Widow “I guess you’re right.” He bent down, and she stood on her toes. The kiss was warm and soft. There was no urgency about it. And yet it held promise—at least, he thought it did. “I’ll be back in a few hours to continue sorting through your files. Be sure and be dressed, including panties.” “I will. I love your cock, but enough is enough. At least for awhile.” He laughed. “It’s nice to see the Merry Widow back and at play. See you.” **** The best way to avoid problems with a man was to stay busy. Merry had learned that lesson well and repeatedly. She was two-thirds of the way through her accounts looking for possible spurious pieces of information when the phone rang. Couldn’t the guy leave her alone for a few hours? “Hello.” “Mrs. Delaney?” “Yes, who is this?” “It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that you possess something important to some of my associates.” “Oh.” “Yes, I gather you understand what I’m talking about. You have certain files that we want destroyed, Mrs. Delaney. I’m sure you and your cop lover are trying to figure out which accounts are critical. Let me save you the trouble. Do you have a pencil handy?” “Yes?” “You will destroy the following accounts. When I say destroy, I mean backup files too, hard copies as well as the computer.” As if in an out-of-body experience, Merry watched her fingers tremble as she typed in the account names. The man was giving her what she’d spent hours searching for. 125

The Merry Widow “Now then, Mrs. Delaney, are you still listening?” “Yes.” “Good. I could’ve dropped in uninvited and taken care of this matter myself. Wouldn’t have been much harder than setting the bugs in your phones, though it might have taken more time than I want to devote to this project. And we wanted you to know that we know and we expect full cooperation. You are very photogenic, Mrs. Delaney.” Merry gasped. “Oh, yeah. I think I heard a light bulb click on in that pretty head of yours. I wish I could show myself. You look like a delicious morsel in the pics we’ve taken from your garden, but I have my standards. I don’t mix business with pleasure. And never fail to understand, Mrs. Delaney, this is strictly business. We will do whatever is necessary to ensure your cooperation, Mrs. Delaney. “I’ve got enough pictures of you to fill every X-rated magazine on the newsstand. You should work in the porn business.” He laughed. “I’ve got some contacts if you want. “You seem awfully quiet, Mrs. Delaney. I’ve imagined you as quite the chatterbox. Now it may be that it doesn’t bother you that these pictures might become public, but I wonder how they would go over with some of your stuffy, stodgy clients. “Some people can be so high and mighty. It’s a problem we face daily. Good-bye, Mrs. Delaney. I trust you will do the right thing by us. Kill those files!” Shaking, Merry set the phone down. “Holy shit,” she muttered. “Holy fucking shit.” Should she call Jim? With the account names the man had given her, she could destroy all the files before Jim got back. He’d never need to know. They simply wouldn’t be able to make any incriminating links. Case closed. **** 126

The Merry Widow Merry felt like a heel, but she double checked the list of accounts carefully and punched all the appropriate buttons to delete them. She erased them from her computer garbage pail. She placed software in her CD drive and expunged the hard drive of any evidence of the accounts. She got up, went to a file cabinet, and sorted through hard copies and backup diskettes. A hammer, fear, and fury turned the diskettes into plastic shards. That finished, Merry lit a fire in her fireplace and piled one file upon another. She fanned the flames until the files were gray ash. She crawled onto her bed and waited for Jim to return. He’d never forgive her for this, but she’d done what she had to do. **** For a change, Jim Barnes stayed under the speed limit driving back to Merry Delaney’s home. It had been good to be away from her for at least a few hours. He hoped she hadn’t got into too much trouble during that interval, but he’d come to an important decision. She wasn’t simply playing hard to get. He knew that. She was working through shit. What exactly, he didn’t know. She needed time. They both needed time, together. She was right, they hardly knew each other. Certainly not well enough to build a long-term relationship. He’d bide his time. He’d romance the woman like she’d never been romanced before. Like he’d never romanced another woman before. This was fresh but hopefully fertile ground. She was getting plenty of sex, but was she getting enough romance? He’d wager she wasn’t. And what about those other guys and women? Jim grunted. He’d put up with it. For now. Hell, he didn’t have a choice. He wanted Merry, and right now she brought a lot of baggage. He’d manage. He had to. 127

The Merry Widow He saw her curled up on her four-poster bed through the bedroom patio door. She hadn’t heard the doorbell. He tried the patio door—it slid open. He knew he’d locked it the night before. She’d forgotten to relock sometime after he’d left. Her tear-stained face and smudged hands spoke louder than words. He cradled her in his arms and brushed back her hair. Her eyes opened, and she started to sob. “I’ve been terrible. You won’t forgive me.” “Hush. It’s okay. You got a call, didn’t you?” She nodded and sobbed louder. “You destroyed any trace of those accounts.” “Yes,” she wailed. “I failed you.” “It’ll be okay. I half expected this. We were getting too close. What did they threaten you with?” “Pictures.” “Of course.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I would’ve helped you destroy the records.” “You’d destroy evidence?” She swiped at her eyes. “It’s not so bad. I’m sure they’ve torpedoed those dummy corporations by now. All we really had was circumstantial evidence. At least we put a crimp in their business strategy.” Jim lay back against the headboard and lifted Merry onto his lap. She cuddled against his chest. He looked at the two of them in the mirror. How could this be wrong? It wasn’t. God, he loved this woman, and he still didn’t know her favorite color, her favorite movie, her favorite food. He ran his fingers through her blond tresses. Her sobbing faltered and her breathing became more even. So why was his breathing becoming more labored? “How many clients would you lose if the pictures became public?” “Hard to tell. A third, maybe half. Some people would ogle the pics for a long time before canceling, but they’d fire me.” 128

The Merry Widow He watched her studying their reflection. Was she noticing how well suited they were with her in his lap? It could be an image of long-time lovers or of a happily married couple. “Others would be shocked, I’m sure, but would know that my personal life doesn’t interfere with my professional responsibilities.” Jim thrilled at Merry’s tiny smile. “I’d get a few calls from friends who’d say, ‘You go, girl.’” “Yes, I suppose you would. Actually, the publicity might generate as many clients as you’d lose. There are a lot of smaller avant-garde companies who have a difficult time dealing with reserved accountants and lawyers.” “I hadn’t thought of that. If those pictures ever see the light of day, I’m positive reserved won’t be a word to describe Merry Delaney.” “Nor should it be,” he said, tapping the tip of her nose with a finger. “But what about you?” She turned to look at him directly. “What if those pictures are of the two of us having wild sex?” “I might want to buy a copy or two to have framed.” He was unable to avoid a sharp elbow in the ribs. “Though, if they are of us, I’d likely walk into the station to a standing ovation and a lot of whistling and hollering. And a chewing out by the captain—he’d feel obligated to give me a lecture on discretion. As far as most people are concerned,” he raised an eyebrow, “aren’t cops supposed to be sex machines with guns?” “That hadn’t occurred to me either.” She paused and her hand flew to her throat. “What if any of them are of Camille? Or anyone else?” Jim sobered. “Think very carefully. What, exactly, did your caller say about the photos?”

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The Merry Widow “I think…” Merry paused. “He said he took them from my garden. And that I looked like a…like a delicious morsel. Oh, and he called you my cop lover.” “From your garden? I’ve never had any company out there, and I haven’t missed much.” He mulled over the options for a moment. “I think we’re safe to assume their photos are just of you and me. They may wish they had others, but given their timing, and how closely I’ve been watching and following you, I think they can’t have more than that.” He watched Merry’s features soften as she let out a long, slow breath. “Thank God. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to Camille, or any of the others.” “Even if they had other photos, the mob isn’t likely to want to draw that much attention to itself. Every new person they involve in their scheme leaves them more likely to be traced, so I think your friends are safe. But it’s probably a good idea to keep on closing the blinds at Camille’s, just in case.” “Oh, I’ll do that, for sure. But where does that leave us? Now what do we do, given that the records are destroyed?” “Sit tight. We’ve put a crimp in their plans. That’s good. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for fresh leads.” He stared at her and scrunched his mouth. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” She sat up straight, clearly ignoring the fact that she was sitting on his erection. “Don’t try to protect me.” “Okay. I wouldn’t be surprised if once the dust settles— maybe in a week or so—you’ll receive another friendly call from your anonymous friend representing various associates. By then they’ll know you are trustworthy, or at least sufficiently frightened. They’ll have more work for you, Merry. It’s just a matter of time.”

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The Merry Widow Merry leaped to her feet and paced. She stopped at the foot of the bed, crossed her arms, and shifted her weight to one side. “So I’m still in the middle of it. I only prolonged the agony.” “Afraid so. Your immediate danger level has fallen markedly, but that can change quickly.” “Great. What did I do to deserve this?” She turned away from him and faced her gardens. He got off the bed, wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her. “You have compassion for little girls trying to survive on the streets. That’s how you got into this.” He moved his hands to her shoulders and turned her to face him. He wiped tears from her eyes. “Thanks for reminding me,” she whispered, mustering a small smile. “What about the pictures?” “Even if you could work out some sort of deal, you’d never know if they destroyed the digital files.” “That’s true.” “Think of it this way,” he chuckled. “Your greatgrandchildren will love them. They’ll see how they got their beauty genes, as well as their propensity for taking risks.” “I don’t believe that.” “So how about your daughter?” “Tiffany? I’d be more embarrassed than she would. You can count on that. She’d probably examine the photos closely and then proceed to give me pointers on how to have better sex.” Jim laughed. “She sounds like quite the girl.” “She is that. So we continue as normal?” Jim tried not to drop his jaw. “Normal? Lady, there hasn’t been one thing normal about my life since I met you.” “Is that a complaint?” “Hardly.” He took a step away from her intensity. “So—do you have plans for Saturday night?” “Not yet, why?” 131

The Merry Widow “How about going out to dinner with me? Maybe we could catch a play or something.” “Detective Barnes,” she gave him a sly grin, “are you asking me out on a date?” “Sort of. Well, hell yes! If you can fit me into your busy dance card.” “A play, you said. I didn’t know you liked the theater.” “You never asked. I believe the Merry Widow implied the only thing she knew about me was that I have a sturdy, serviceable cock.” “Yes, well that’s a fact beyond debate.” He nearly melted before her brilliant smile. “I’d be delighted to accept your Saturday night invitation, Jim.” “You no doubt have your standard Friday night date with Camille.” She never blinked. “Yes, of course.” “Don’t make plans for Sunday morning. You might still be a little too sore to take on a new adventure that soon.” “I’ll try to keep that helpful suggestion in mind.” “Good. You should be plenty safe for now. At least until the mob boys try to reel you further in. Call me if there are any changes. I’ll pick you up at six o’clock.” “I’ll be ready. Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?” He didn’t hesitate to crush his lips against her pout. Her tongue immediately burst into his mouth. After teasing every corner of his mouth, she withdrew abruptly. “Bye,” she whispered. “Until Saturday.” He hurried out of the room to stop himself from tossing her on the bed and making wild love to her all over again. He knew she wouldn’t resist. Maybe she even hoped he would do just that, but he was set on romance—and romance it would be.

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Chapter 9 “So what’s distracting you this evening, Merry?” Camille pressed her body closer to her dance partner. “You haven’t been yourself. You were quiet during much of dinner. The music is mellow. The wine is vintage. I’m holding you in my arms swaying softly to the music, but I’m not sure you’re with me.” “I’m sorry, Camille.” Merry tipped her head back and kissed her friend softly on the lips. “There’s just so much going on.” “Tell me about it, girl.” Camille stopped swaying and led Merry to the sofa. “We’re best friends. Isn’t that what friends are for?” Merry nodded. “Okay.” She smoothed out her skirt. “I met a guy.” She couldn’t decipher the emotion that flickered across Camille’s face, before she smiled brightly and smacked her lips. “Good, tell me about him. What does he look like? I bet he’s a hunk. What does he do? Certainly not another accountant.” Merry chuckled. “No, not that. He’s a detective—a cop.” “A cop! Goodness gracious, how’d you meet a cop?” “He was referred to me for some accounting assistance that might be useful for a case he’s working on.” Well, that was partly true. She wasn’t about to drag Camille into any looming danger. “I’ll be damned. Here I’ve been scouring the city for eligible men, and you go and find one for yourself. You go, girl. I’m pleased.” 133

The Merry Widow Merry let out sigh and bit her lower lip. “Good. I didn’t know if you would be.” “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? So you must like him better than the guys who you’ve been seeing—or he wouldn’t be a distraction. What’s his name? I need a name so he’s not simply a him.” “His name is Jim Barnes. And I did appreciate you referring those guys, especially Mason—he was a gem.” “Too bad he wasn’t a decade or two younger. So how old is Jim?” Merry shrugged. “I’m not sure; I never asked. Probably between forty and fifty.” She relished the warmth of Camille’s fingers kneading her thigh. “Does this mean what we have is over? Sexually, I mean. Our friendship will never end.” Merry blanched. “Heavens no!” She hesitated. “Unless you want it to be over—” “Of course I don’t. I just thought maybe you found your man and—” “I don’t know if he’s my man. It’s way too soon to know that.” She tilted her head and thought a moment. “But maybe you could hold off referring other men to me, at least for a while.” “No problem. So does he know about me, about us?” “Yes.” “And he doesn’t object?” “He has no basis for objecting.” “Which isn’t the same as saying he doesn’t.” Merry extended wide her arms to Camille. “I don’t want us to change.” “It’s okay, Merry,” Camille said, hugging her. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be. Maybe he’s into threesomes.” “I doubt that.” Merry giggled against Camille’s neck. 134

The Merry Widow “I bet he has enough to go around.” “Oh, yeah. More than enough.” “Would you want to share?” Merry leaned back in Camille’s arms and stared into her eyes. “Excellent question. I don’t know.” “You don’t have to. But you’re here now. Maybe we can forget about your detective for a little while. Is that okay?” Merry nodded. She wrapped her arms around Camille’s neck and initiated a kiss. Shortly, Camille released her and pecked at her lips several times. “I think all of this talk about your man has made me horny as hell. Let’s hurry and get out of these clothes. I need my tongue burrowing into your pussy. There’s no time to run upstairs. Here is fine.” Moments later, Merry lolled her head from side to side, clutching Camille by the ears. Had she ever undressed so quickly? She lay back on the couch with her legs draped over Camille’s shoulders—Camille, who knelt on the carpet and most definitely had her tongue deep in Merry’s pussy. Her lover cradled her butt and lifted her, driving pussy against tongue. Merry dug her heels into Camille’s back. “More—just a little more—keep going. Holy shit, I’m coming!” Her circuits exploded one by one, as if she were an electric power plant struck by lightening. “Oh my,” she cried, “don’t leave me. Not now. Not ever.” Camille held her suspended like that for the longest time, rubbing her nose and mouth across soaked pussy lips. “You can put me down,” Merry whimpered. “Your arms must be at the breaking point.” “Don’t worry about me, girl. Stay with it a little longer. Melt into those aftershocks. Accept what the gods provide.” Merry squeezed her eyes shut and focused on that area just behind her pussy. She sighed and then gasped. There was more! 135

The Merry Widow Camille squeezed her bottom. The tongue lurking at her portal dove back in and out. “Good grief. What aftershocks!” Her knees locked Camille’s head in place, and again she rode that skilled tongue. She moaned. She pressed forward. Her vagina exploded like a Fourth of July fireworks display—once, twice, three times, four times. She lost track. She lost awareness. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed. “No more,” she moaned. “No more. I can’t take any more.” From a distance, she heard Camille’s faint chuckle. “That’s okay, girl. But you won’t soon forget this night no matter how good he is. I’ll go make us some tea.” Merry slumped back on the couch and threw an arm over her eyes. After this weekend, she’d have to plan for more time off between lovers. Would she have enough for Jim tomorrow night? She could still feel Camille’s tongue. Goodness, where had all of that come from? **** Merry pulled up in front of her house at eleven o’clock Saturday morning. She and Camille had fallen asleep some time after midnight, had awakened at eight a.m., and had cuddled and kissed for another hour. She did enjoy waking up with Camille in her arms. Their breasts always seemed to mesh just right. But damn, she was tired. She didn’t even check her answering machine. She stumbled to her bedroom, stepped out of her skirt, yanked off her blouse, yawned, and crawled under the sheet. She needed a nap. Merry squinted. The red numerals on her bedroom clock blurred. She’d resisted getting a clock with larger numbers. “Good grief,” she exclaimed, running to the clock to double check. It was five-fifteen. Jim would be by to pick her up in less than an hour. Where had the day gone? She saw her horror 136

The Merry Widow reflected in the mirror. She laughed. Maybe she should cry. Her day was lost in last night. Oh, well! She dashed toward the shower, yanking off her bra and pulling off her panties in time to step under the hot water. She should be preparing for her first date with Jim by lounging in a bubble bath, not by hurrying through a shower and tossing on clothes. She tipped her head back and welcomed the stinging spray pummeling her shoulders, then let it pound steadily on her lower back. She’d call Camille and reschedule their time for Wednesday nights. That should work. She should be able to take care of everyone that way, including herself. **** Merry had hardly been able to keep her eyes open at the theater. Thank goodness she’d had her nap. The play was too heavy, too dramatic for her. She preferred comedy. Jim, in contrast, appeared quite entranced. He’d squeezed her hand that rested on the armrest between them from time to time. Dinner had been fun. A joy, really. She hadn’t realized how she’d missed talking to a man. She’d been surprised to learn Jim had a college degree—in criminal justice, of course. He’d been married for five years. Divorced quickly after learning his wife had been unfaithful. No kids. And she’d finally discovered his age: forty-six. Not bad. Not bad at all. On the drive back to Glencoe, they’d spoken little except for the typical after-theater critique. He pulled into her driveway and looked over at her. He hadn’t turned off the engine. The last time he’d driven her home, they couldn’t get out of the car and into the house fast enough. She met his eyes and gave a half smile. “You are coming in, aren’t you?” “I didn’t know what you expected, with me romancing you and all.” 137

The Merry Widow She parted her lips with her tongue. “Do we have to be chaste just because I’m letting you romance me? I could change my mind.” She paused. “I’ve been looking forward all day to spending time in bed with you. Didn’t you promise I’d be stiff and sore in the morning?” Jim turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. “I forgot.” “Now who’s teasing?” **** “And now who’s teasing?” Jim asked. “If you stare at my cock any longer it’s going to turn to stone.” Kneeling at his side, Merry emitted a giggle and patted his thickening cock that nestled in her palm. He loved to listen to her throaty giggle. “I like watching him grow.” She ran a finger along a protruding vein. “Merry, have mercy on me. Do something. Anything. Play with him. Stick him in an orifice. Any one. Don’t just stare at him.” “You can be such a demanding man.” She winked at him, and then she winked at his stiffening cock. “Oh, okay. Do I want to fuck you? Or do you want to fuck me?” He couldn’t determine if those were rhetorical questions. “I don’t care. We’ll both probably join in. Just get on with it. Hell, I might come on your hand.” “Just because I’m scrutinizing him? He’s such a big boy.” “Yes.” “Oh. Well that sounds too messy. I want you coming in me, not on me.” “I like the sounds of that.” Merry hiked a leg across his chest. He resisted the idea of pulling her up so he could chew on her pussy. No, he wanted to be deep inside her. 138

The Merry Widow She gave him a big smile, reached between her legs, and guided him. She started impaling herself slowly. He shot his hips upward, seating his shaft as deep into her heated chamber as he could reach. “Hey,” she complained. “That wasn’t fair. I thought I was fucking you.” “Together. Remember, we’re in this together.” “Okay.” She dipped her head to trace one of his nipples with her tongue. “I do love the feel of you expanding my interior like that.” No longer in a rush, he was where he wanted to be. He enjoyed the teasing game as much as she did. Jim flexed his hips a few times to let her know he was still there, just in case she’d forgotten. He covered a breast with each hand. She sat up, letting him have his way with those magnificent orbs. He hefted each one, marveling at how little sag they had. He pulled on her nipples. She squealed but never said stop. He’d seen her tug on them much harder. She snaked a hand between them. Her eyes locked on his as she rubbed her clit. She couldn’t continue their foreplay much longer—her breath was already ragged. His wasn’t much better. The Merry Widow was pure sexual delight. Merry grinned, sat back on her knees, and levered up nearly the full length of his shaft. He could see himself. He was confident she wasn’t going anywhere. She was too close. They were both too close. She sat back down, and his cock disappeared inside her. “Are you where you wanted to be?” “I never want to leave.” “Don’t think I could get much done if I always had your cock stuck in my pussy, particularly if you were still attached.” “Damn, woman.” He scowled at her. 139

The Merry Widow “Okay, lover, here we go.” She balanced on the balls of her feet with her hands on his ribs. “Just like a roller coaster. We leave the station slowly.” She inched up his cock. “And then hurtle down the hill, only to rise again to be ready for another plunge.” He watched her belly rising and falling. He no longer knew if his cock was an extension of his body or of hers. “Weave to the side,” she said, gyrating from side to side, but always moving up and down. He couldn’t hold onto her breasts any longer. He clutched the bedsheets, and she steadied herself with one hand and worked on her clit with the other. At last her play-by-play calls ceased and her hips blurred in his vision. “Oh my God!” she wailed. “Fill me.” “Absolutely.” Her words were music to his ears. His release started slowly, but she wasn’t satisfied with slow. She stroked and he pumped until she’d taken everything. Hopefully, she’d left something for the next round. Without warning, she crashed against his chest. He hugged her tight. “I’ve never had a woman chatter so much during sex.” She raised her head and looked at him through exhausted eyes. “Does my chatter distract you?” She yawned and rested her cheek on his pecs. “Do I disappoint you?” “Not at all.” He idly brushed her hair. “Not at all.” Shortly, Merry’s even breathing told him all he needed to know. He chuckled softly. His play-by-play announcer was asleep. He smiled, reveling in her heat and thanking his lucky stars that this woman was a part of his life. **** Through bleary eyes, Merry watched the morning coffee brew. She could do this. She really could. As soon as she could 140

The Merry Widow get Camille to agree to Wednesday nights, they’d all be okay. There would be no other men as long as Jim Barnes was around; there wasn’t time or energy for another man. “Hi, Mom.” Tiffany walked into the kitchen, beaming brightly. “So who’s the stud sleeping in your bed?” Merry knotted her wrapper and frowned at her daughter. “You may want to knock or ring the doorbell from now on.” “Oops.” Tiffany covered her mouth. “Yes, I see. This could be more embarrassing than it is.” “Much more.” Merry poured her daughter a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “You didn’t answer my question, Mom. Who’s the stud?” “Why did I think you might forget? Never mind. His name is Jim Barnes. He’s a detective. Forty-six years old. Divorced. No kids.” “He sounds perfect. And he’s a hunk. You might tell him to pull up the sheet when he sleeps.” “Tiffany! You’re not supposed to be barging into my bedroom. How much did you see?” “A lot! He’s a hunk. If he weren’t forty-six I’d be envious. And it never used to bother you that I came in unannounced.” “Things are different now.” “So, this isn’t a one-night stand. Is he a live-in?” “No!” “And what about Aunt Camille?” “What do you mean?” “You’re blushing, Mom. You know what I mean. Are you doing her at the same time?” Merry clenched her fists and glared at her nosy daughter. “Cripes, Mom, you’ve got more balls than I ever thought.” “Last I checked, I didn’t have any.” “So it doesn’t bother this guy that you’re sleeping with a woman on the side? Does she know about him?” 141

The Merry Widow Merry nodded. “Wow! I’ve got to meet this guy. When do I get to meet him?” “How about right now?” Merry cringed. The husky voice belonged to her male lover. At least he’d pulled on his pants and shirt. His bare feet were sexy as all get out. How much had he heard? Could this morning get any more confusing? Sure it could. Camille could walk through the door and they’d have a three ring circus. Merry handed Jim a cup of coffee. “Jim, in case you haven’t guessed, this is my daughter, Tiffany. Tiffany, this is Jim Barnes.” She watched Jim reach out and shake her daughter’s extended hand. His smile could’ve melted ice. “Nice to meet you, Tiffany. She sure looks like you, Merry. Almost as gorgeous.” “Whoa. Watch out, Mom. This guy is smooth. I’m pleased to meet you, too, Jim. You be good to my mother and we’ll get along just fine.” “Tiffany!” “That’s okay, Merry.” Jim turned back to Tiffany. “I plan on being very good to your mother. And I appreciate your concern. So does anyone want to head out to brunch?” Tiffany shook her head. “You two go ahead. I have to meet a date.” Merry wasn’t sure she liked the look on Tiffany’s face. “I may have a guy to bring home to meet you, Mom.” “Really? I bet I’ve only met two of your boyfriends since high school. We’ll have a nice family dinner whenever you’re ready. So what’s this lucky fellow’s name?” “Michael. Michael Stanley. He works at—” Merry spewed coffee halfway across the kitchen island. She clutched her stomach and fought for air. “Mom, what the hell?” 142

The Merry Widow Filled with horror, Merry watched her daughter slant her head to the side and then saw a wicked grin creep across her lips. “Mom, you didn’t! You didn’t sleep with Michael?” Jim looked at the ceiling and began to nod. “You stay out of this,” Merry said, looking sharply at him. “Tiffany—I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, Mom. Can you believe it? We’ve had the same guy between the sheets. So you must not have liked Michael, or there wouldn’t be a Jim,” Tiffany said, pointing at Jim. “He wasn’t for me, but—” “But what? But he might be okay for me?” “At least the two of you probably have more in common.” Tiffany giggled. “That’s true. Plus, being younger I’m probably a better match for his athleticism.” “Tiffany! Please.” Merry started wiping up the mess she’d made but avoided looking at Jim. He was on the verge of hysterics. Had he been watching when Michael introduced her to the wheelbarrow? “Wouldn’t it be something, Mom, if I married Michael? Can’t be too many mothers who’ve given their son-in-laws a test run in bed. So much for parental blessing.” Merry gave up. The only way to survive this farce was to laugh. “You’re probably right, Tiff.” And then the giggles came, and giggles turned into laughter. Tiffany hugged her. Jim hugged both of them. Her world was topsy-turvy, but somehow it was spinning along quite nicely. God, she prayed her daughter didn’t wind up marrying Michael. He’d been such an arrogant young bastard. Besides, Tiffany—any woman for that matter— deserved more staying power than that boy would ever manage. **** Later that afternoon, she called Tiffany to see if they had any unfinished business about Michael Stanley. 143

The Merry Widow “I’m fine, Mom. Really, I am. If it works out with Michael, then it’ll work and we’ll all be happy. If it doesn’t, then I’ll keep sifting through men until I find one I don’t want to throw back.” “I’m sure you’ll find the right one soon enough.” “Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t bring Michael to dinner, unless I’m absolutely certain he’s the one.” Merry smiled at her daughter’s loyalty. “I appreciate that. Tiff?” “Uh huh?” “I’ve got another favor to ask. You don’t by chance know of a reliable tattooist you could refer me to?” “Mom!” Tiffany squealed. Merry held the phone away from her ear. “This is absolutely perfect! I’ve wanted to get a tattoo for ages. And I know a woman who has an excellent reputation. Mom, she’s an artist. Several of my girlfriends wear her art. What and where?” “Huh?” “What picture or object do you want tattooed and what part of your body do you want it on?” Merry hesitated. “I’m not sure. I’m still thinking about all of that.” “Mom, you’re afraid of commitment. But unless you enjoy pain, this is for life.” “I don’t enjoy pain. Look, Tiffany, this may be a bad idea.” “No, I love it. I’ll set up the appointment for me and you can come along and watch. Please, Mom. I’d like you there when I have my tattoo done.” “Oh, all right. It can’t hurt to tag along and watch. Let me know a few days in advance.” “I will. Thanks, Mom.” **** On Friday afternoon, a dozen red roses arrived at Merry’s house. Holding her breath, she carefully carried them to the 144

The Merry Widow kitchen. She cut their stems diagonally and arranged the flowers in a tall green vase. And then, with shaking fingers, she picked up the card that was still in the box. She stared at it for a moment. The only person who’d ever sent her long-stemmed roses was Mason Downs. That had been great. And he’d been very nice, but she didn’t need Mason back in her life. Cautiously, she peeked at the card. “Oh my.” Tears sprang to her eyes. She read the words aloud. “To the lovely Merry Widow. Thanks for sharing yourself with me. Love, Jim.” “Good grief,” she mumbled, holding the card over her heart. He truly was romancing her. She shivered. He already had her body—though he didn’t know he was the only male who shared it these days. And now he was after her heart and soul. He’d given her due warning, but she hadn’t let herself acknowledge how serious he was about his campaign. If she didn’t want to continue this dance with him, she had to stop the music, and soon. She was turning out to be a sucker for romance. She giggled between tears. Why should that surprise? She owned hundreds of romance novels. She carried the rose vase into the living room and placed it on the mantel over the fireplace. She stood back and admired the flowers. It wasn’t at all difficult to imagine her and Jim lying before the fireplace in the winter, making passionate love. She gulped for air. Winter was months away. Would they be a couple that long? Would she be sharing her soul by then? She hugged herself. There were crisp nights in the fall. Yes, she’d stock up on firewood early this year. **** Jim picked up the phone before it had a chance to ring twice. “Thank you. Thank you. They’re beautiful.” He settled back into his overstuffed chair and smiled broadly at her glee. “Great, I’m glad you like them.” 145

The Merry Widow “But why?” “Maybe I worried you might’ve forgotten me. We’ve hardly talked this week. And Saturday isn’t until tomorrow.” “And you worried about Wednesday night.” Jim took a swallow of beer before answering. “Maybe. This is going to take some getting used to.” “I’m sure it is. And I appreciate you working at it. I can tell you as little or as much as you want to know—well, within limits. I’m not going to give Camille a blow by blow description of our love life, either.” “I’m glad to hear that. I don’t need that kind of detail. I just want to know you’re okay. It was okay for you. Camille didn’t dump you on your sorry ass because you’re involved with me.” “Not hardly. But wouldn’t that have pleased you?” “No. I don’t want to cause you pain, even indirectly. And knowing you’d lost your best friend would hurt.” “I appreciate that. And it was a lovely evening. If anything, having you in my life intensifies what I share with Camille. We should probably leave it at that.” “I agree.” He tried not to spend too much time imagining the two women’s intensity. “So, I have tickets to the Cubs or the symphony for tomorrow. Which do you want to do? The Cubs game is one of those twilight affairs that starts late afternoon and goes into the evening.” “Let’s do that, Jim. I like the idea of a twilight affair.” “That’s my girl, and we can have dessert back at your house.” “Of course.” “I’ll pick you up at two o’clock, if that works.” “Works fine. See you then. And thanks again for the lovely flowers. I am very touched, Jim. Bye.” “Bye.” 146

The Merry Widow Jim punched the end button and set his cell phone on the table. He reached for his beer and brought it to his lips, closed his eyes, and swallowed. He smiled. It seemed every time he shut his eyes during the last week he saw her tits begging for attention, or her bald pussy, or her firm ass. Damn, he had it bad. Real bad. And he didn’t know how to inoculate himself against her charms or his desire. He didn’t want to try. She was a challenge—there were times when he couldn’t keep up with her chatter. Then she wrested everything out of him in bed. She came loudly and often. Did she have any idea what that did to guy’s ego? He scowled. Merry’s orgasmic howls were probably also quite satisfying to Camille and her friends. Jesus. Would she be as open and free with him, if she didn’t have them? Would one person, any person, be enough to satisfy the Merry Widow? What had she turned herself into? He hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about it, but he guessed he’d always considered himself to be a tits and ass sort of guy. He was no Casanova, but he liked slow sex as well as the harder, quicker variety. Until he met Merry, he’d considered himself reasonably experienced in matters of sex. He was beginning to have his doubts. **** Merry saw Jim drive up at two fifteen. Was the man ever on time? She dashed out the door and got in the passenger side. “I could’ve walked to the door and got you,” Jim said. “Nonsense. I saw you drive up. So here I am. Are you going to catch me a foul ball?” Jim laughed. “Doubt it. We have seats right behind the catcher.” “I’ve never been that close to the field before.”

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The Merry Widow “By the way, you look stunning in white shorts and that pink top. I may never leave your side. Someone will certainly come over and try to pick you up.” Merry smiled to herself. He said someone—not some guy. Maybe he was learning? Or maybe it meant nothing. “Thanks. You look quite spiffy yourself.” **** Merry chomped down on a hotdog covered with relish and mustard. No hotdog tasted better than a ballpark hotdog. Maybe she’d seen that in an ad. But it was true. She glanced at Jim. She caught him staring at her. “What’s wrong?” “Not a thing. I was just thinking what a lucky bastard I am. Do you realize how many guys never find a woman who will go to a Cubs game with them?” She rubbed his thigh in appreciation. “I may be no expert on baseball, but I do know the Cubs are a phenomenon. And I do love Wrigley with its vines. Everything is so close here.” Jim tucked his arm around her and smiled. “Real close. I like close.” “I love close. Is the game almost over?” “If we get the next three guys out, we win, and you and I can contemplate dessert.” “If you don’t mind, I may spend some time contemplating that right now.” Merry half closed her eyes, and her mouth curved into a satisfied grin. He gave her a crooked smile. “You do that,” he said, redirecting his attention to the game. When they walked out of the stadium, Jim leaned down and whispered in her ear, “So do you have dessert planned?” She beamed up at him. “I’m still working on it.” **** 148

The Merry Widow Once they’d entered her house, Merry had Jim wait in the living room while she took care of a few things in the bedroom. Even he thought the roses on the mantel were a nice touch. “Why don’t you go on into the bedroom and get undressed?” Merry announced, stepping into the room. “There’s a robe for you lying on the bed. I bought it yesterday. Just don’t think that means you’re moving in anytime soon.” “Thought never crossed my mind.” “Right. I’ll grab a couple of things and be back in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable.” Jim smiled at the “his” and “her” terrycloth robes lying on the bed. She’d done some of her preparation well in advance. Was this a response to his roses? He might not be moving in soon, but at least he was an expected regular visitor. It didn’t take long to strip off his clothes and slip into the robe. He lay back against pillows propped against the headboard and grinned at himself in the wall-to-wall mirrors. They were a bit much, but they sure added to the flavor of decadence pervading the room. The four-poster bed was a thing of the past. But then there were the mirrors and the many candles Merry had lit. Their reflections made the room appear ringed with candles. And he sniffed the lavender scent rising from the incense burner. He imagined she’d placed a drop or two of the fragrance on the pillows. The Merry Widow was proving she knew a thing or two about romance also. She entered the room with a wineglass in each hand. “You look lovely.” His nostrils flared. She wore a green satin top, cut off above the waist, and a matching bikini. “It’s satin, and it feels very nice against the skin.” “Green looks good on you.” He reached out and touched the smooth fabric. “I’m glad you like it.” “So far, your plan is well conceived.” 149

The Merry Widow “Oh, there’s much more. My juices started flowing when I put this outfit on. If you don’t mind, let’s save our wine until later.” “Sounds like an excellent idea.” “Are you always so agreeable?” she asked, straddling his chest. “When I have a pretty woman perched on my chest— absolutely.” “Just any woman,” Merry pouted. “No, she’s a very specific woman. How tall are you, Merry?” “Five foot four.” “Yes, that specific woman is five four, with golden hair and blue eyes. What’s your weight, Merry?” “One hundred and ten pounds. And if you must know my bust is thirty-four B, my waist twenty-four, and my hips thirtyfour.” “My, you do stay in shape.” “I work at it.” “So this woman I imagine is one hundred and ten pounds.” And he cocked his head to the side. “You guessed it, she’s thirtyfour B, I believe, twenty-four, thirty-four. Isn’t that amazing? You fit her to a T.” “Absolutely amazing. Now if you’re done regaling me with your fantasy woman, I have an alternative use for your tongue.” She slid forward and came to a sitting position, with his head resting on her crossed ankles and his mouth snug against satin. “I think I get the idea.” He kissed the satin. She squirmed. He flicked his tongue. Soon he was tracing the outline of her pussy through the satin. Merry squealed softly. “I can’t explain why a tongue on satin is so tantalizing, so rich, so special. It’s not better than a tongue on skin; it’s just different.” 150

The Merry Widow He tried to ignore the fact that she wasn’t singling out his tongue in her words of praise. He reached up to join her hands in fondling her breasts. She was right. There was something about satin that made touching more sensuous, more decadent. He slid his tongue along the edge of the bikini, wetting satin and skin. Merry’s legs quivered. She was already close. He left her breasts to cradle her ass in his hands. “Ah,” she gasped. “Just a fraction to the left with that artistic tongue, Jim.” He complied. “No, I mean right.” He chuckled against the satin and held her steady as she welcomed her first climax of the evening. God, would he ever tire of this? Not in a thousand years. “That was pleasant. Small, but pleasant.” She tugged her top off. “I’m getting too hot,” she explained, pulling on her lengthening nipples. “I hadn’t noticed.” He stretched his neck back, releasing tension. Her eyes widened. “Don’t leave me yet.” She slipped a hand down inside the bikini and worked on her clit as he continued to lave the still-covered pussy. He’d had about enough of that. He pushed the silk aside with his tongue. She used her other hand to untie the bikini and free herself from the silk, which had suddenly become an impediment. He ducked his tongue into her juicy channel. “Yes. That’s where I want you. Use that tongue. Crawl into my pussy. Don’t stop. God, Jim, it’s building. This is a big one. Here comes dessert, darling. Here comes dessert.” Her juices flowed over his tongue; he swallowed. He grinned. He swallowed some more. She’d called him darling. He continued licking. 151

The Merry Widow “No more. Stop.” She grinned down at him and began to untuck herself. “My switch sort of goes off and on. When it’s on, it’s really on. And when it shuts down—” “It shuts down. I’ve noticed. And I really appreciate you telling me when that happens. It sure takes a lot of the guesswork and games out of lovemaking.” He watched her reach for her wineglass and take a sip. She nodded. “I’m not sure a lot of guys—or women for that matter—want to listen. They just forge ahead, assuming their pleasure is also their partner’s pleasure.” “I’ve seen that more times than I’d like to remember.” “What was your wife like? You never talk about her.” “You don’t often talk about your husband.” “There’s not a lot to say, particularly when it came to sex. Usually missionary style. He came and I wondered what all the fuss was about.” His chest expanded. She deserved so much more. “So I really do have Camille to thank for all of this.” Merry nodded, half smiling. “Much of it, anyway. I’m much more comfortable with my body at forty-two than I was in my twenties or thirties.” “You have a body to be proud of, Merry.” “Well, it didn’t just happen. I got fairly plump after Tiffany’s birth. I never had the resolve to take it off and keep it off. Then when Danny became so ill, I lost much of that weight. That’s when I bought the ski machine and weights. I was determined to get in shape and stay in shape.” “Thank goodness for determination.” “Yes. Well, remember that.” Merry thrust out her chin. “I’m quite determined about some other things, too.” He knew better than to follow that train of thought. “Helen could be a dynamo in bed when she wanted to be. She thought I was too big. Hell, she was a larger woman than you.” 152

The Merry Widow “You’re not small—but you haven’t heard me complaining, and I doubt if you will. You’re really quite protective after lovemaking; you don’t immediately come crashing down knocking the air out of me.” “Sounds like you’ve had some memorable outings.” “Some more pleasant than others.” Merry stretched out beside him. “So tell me more.” “Not much more to tell. Turns out she was conducting her own research with several of the men in the department. She said they satisfied her better than I ever did or could. That was about the end of that. I don’t look back much.” Tears in Merry’s eyes gnawed at his gut. “You need to know something right now, Jim Barnes.” He tried desperately to keep his own emotions in check. “As long as we are together, I’ve decided I will not take on any other men.” Jim ground down hard on his bottom lip. He tried to speak, but Merry wasn’t finished. “And I’ll never compare you with any woman I’m ever with. You are a strong, sensitive lover. I’ve never been with a better male lover, and I never expect to. Don’t ask me about the women. It just doesn’t compute. It’s a different universe. And I happen to enjoy both universes.” Jim nodded. “I’m trying to understand.” “I know you are. Most men would have left me hanging long before now.” “I’m not most men.” “Thank God for small favors. Oops,” she said, reaching over to stroke his cock, “no offense, Big Boy.” “You like calling him Big Boy.” “Feels more personal. Don’t get me wrong; he’s also my favorite cock.” She lowered her lips and sucked softly on its 153

The Merry Widow head. She lifted her mouth. “Not sure I’ll ever get enough of him.” “Hope not. You can do that some more if you’d like.” Jim watched his cock disappear into her mouth again. He relaxed and tensed at the same time. This was good. Merry was good. They were good. Her hands were not idle. One worked on the base of his shaft, and the other slipped lower. She cupped his ass. She slid a finger between his butt cheeks until she found his anus. Air escaped from his lungs. She twisted her head to look at him, and a smile lit up her face. Still squeezing his cock in her mouth, she eased a finger into his ass. “Jesus H. Christ, woman, what are you doing?” He couldn’t miss the delight in her eyes. His cock popped out of her mouth. “Fucking your ass. Do you like?” “It’s a new sensation,” he managed to mutter. “But it’s not bad.” The hand on his cock ceased moving while she wiggled the finger in his ass. “In fact it’s feeling better all the time. But I want to come in you, Merry.” Merry shrugged and eased her finger out of him. “Let me wash my hands, and then I’m thinking Big Boy, my favorite cock, should very soon find what I hope is becoming his favorite home.” Jim rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes. “I don’t think he’ll debate that fact.” When Merry returned, she slid into bed beside him. He cradled her in his arms. She kissed his chest. “I’m pleased I was your first.” “Huh?” “Your virgin ass.” “That was something else, Merry. That was something else. I almost couldn’t hold on.” 154

The Merry Widow “Something to be repeated?” “Oh yeah. I know you have this evening planned, but I’m kind of feeling old-fashioned at the moment. I’d like to be on top if that’s okay.” Merry scooted down the bed, spread her hips, and held out her arms in invitation. “That was part of the original plan. Come let the big boy find his home.” Jim tried not to blink; he never wanted to forget Merry lying there waving, beckoning him toward her pussy like she was helping park a passenger plane. He held his cock and slid it up and down her wet crevice. And then he found her portal and flexed forward, entering her slowly. “My goodness, you’re hot,” he grunted. Leaning over, he nipped first one breast and then the other. He kissed her mouth. Her tongue tapped his in a “hi, how are you” gesture and then retreated; she was waiting for him. He stroked her several times, testing their joining, positioning himself just right. And then he began a steady pace—leading, guiding her to another climax. He watched her gasp for air and ran a finger the length of her clitoris. Her inner muscles clamped down on him. He smiled as she savored her climax, then savored another mystery unfolding somewhere in her body. Briefly, he was envious that she could have so many orgasms compared to him. He didn’t change his pace, wanting neither to rush her nor give her time to restore fully. Merry opened her eyes and nodded. “Thanks for waiting. This time, don’t hold back. I want to feel you coming inside me. To the brim, if you can.” Clearly her words were intended to trigger him, and they did. He barely remained in control, but this time he was the trip guide; he knew the destination and what it would take for them to get there together. 155

The Merry Widow Her fingernails scraped down his back. She was closing in again, racing ahead of him. He slowed momentarily. “Don’t stop, Jim. Come to me. Hurry.” He shifted back to a steady pace. He was in no danger of coming, but her contorted face showed she hovered at the brink. “Sweet torture, Jim.” She opened her eyes. “Don’t torture me. I can’t stand much more.” He settled back on his knees. “Christ, don’t go away now.” “I’m not leaving you, baby.” He slipped his hands beneath her buttocks and hoisted her torso, driving in even deeper. And then he stroked quickly, short strokes and then longer strokes. “Oh, yes,” she cried out. “I’m soaring, Jim. Come with me. Harder. Pound me. Come with.” Her eyes rounded. “I can feel you expanding.” Her brow creased. “Yes, here you come. Fill me. Oh my God.” “Holy shit.” Gasping for air, Jim drove in and out of her pussy, filling her, drowning in his own come. Once he stopped quaking, he gently laid her down on the bed. “More than enough,” she whimpered, “more than enough.” He rolled them over so she lay on top of him, grinned broadly, and kissed the top of her head. Once again, she snored softly against his chest. His lungs expanded—not because of Merry’s weight, but because of her words: As long as they were together, she wouldn’t take on other men. He hoped that was a lifetime.

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Chapter 10 Where had the time gone? It was another Monday morning, and Merry waited for the coffee to brew; it never seemed ready quickly enough. She raised her arms overhead and stretched toward the heavens. As always, their lovemaking had been robust. There’d been a special Sunday showing of the Monet exhibit at the Art Institute. She’d long been an Institute donor, and she’d invited Jim to join her. She’d loved watching him consider the paintings. He connected with Monet quite nicely, but some of the modern art pieces only led to a shake of his head. Overall, she’d been pleasantly surprised and quite pleased with their outing. Her life was settling into a pattern—not a routine, and certainly not a rut. Work was steady. She went to Camille’s on Wednesday night for Girls’ Night Out. Sometimes it was only she and Camille; other times it included another woman or two. Merry had been surprised to learn the identity of the other members of her favorite social group. She’d known most them for years. She suspected Camille orchestrated Wednesday night. If she wanted Merry to herself, she just didn’t invite anyone else. There was no set night of the week for Girls’ Night Out. Every night of the week might be Girls’ Night Out for Camille. And then there was usually Saturday night and much of Sunday with Jim. This past weekend had been an exception; she’d let him stay the entire weekend. Usually, she needed time 157

The Merry Widow to herself, to shop and to do the laundry. Working out of her house didn’t mean she could be whimsical about her time. Even her lovers seemed to be settling in. At first she’d suspected some competition, particularly from Camille. But not anymore. Jim and Camille still hadn’t met. She couldn’t decide why it was so daunting to introduce the two of them. She loved both of them, she admitted—yes, even Jim. He was growing on her, and not just his cock. So how did she introduce current lovers? It was probably difficult to introduce past loves. But current? What did she expect? What did she want? Camille would no doubt welcome a threesome. She was already being quite suggestive about them, hinting that if Jim was going to hang around for any length of time, then— Merry had no idea what Jim wanted. Wouldn’t most men leap at a threesome opportunity? She wouldn’t know how to begin. She grinned. Four months ago, she wouldn’t have had a clue about how three women could make love. She sure knew that could be done. So certainly a man and two women could work it out. But did Jim want that? Did she want that? **** Jim had dressed, swallowed his initial burst of coffee, and was ready to head to the station to face another hectic Monday when Merry called out, “Wait a minute.” She’d been quite pensive since he’d joined her in the kitchen. He checked his watch and looked back at her. “I know you’ve got to run, but I have a question that’s been weighing on me.” “No problem. The bad guys aren’t going to take over the city if I’m a few minutes late. What’s up?” “Do you want to join Camille and me in a threesome?”

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The Merry Widow Alarm bells, sirens, and whistles went off in Jim’s head. He pulled out a stool and plopped down. “Whose idea is that? Do you want to try it?” Merry shrugged. “Honestly, I’m conflicted about it. Camille thought it might be the best way to—to sort of cement the relationship we all share.” “I haven’t even met her.” “But she is part of our relationship.” He sighed. “Without a doubt.” “So what do you think?” Jim threw up his hands and rotated his neck and shoulders. He glanced at Merry and saw the look of concern on her face. “If you were really hot about it, I’d give it a try. But unless that’s the case, my gut says no. There’s too much at stake here.” Merry nodded. “So what are you trying to say?” “I don’t want to risk losing you. I think it’s too risky. What if Camille and I don’t hit it off? I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your best friend.” “Wow.” She reached over and clasped his hand. “I thought most any man would have jumped at the chance of bedding two women.” “Hell, it’s not like I’ve never fantasized about a threesome. But how many times do I have to tell you I’m not most men?” “Yes. And you’d give up your fantasy for me.” She brushed her lips across his. “I think I like that a lot, Detective.” She climbed onto his lap and leaned back against his arms. “So what’s that Cheshire cat grin about?” “Oh, nothing much. Just some titillating images flashing through my gray matter.” He slid a finger down her nose. She took it into her mouth and bit down on it. “Hey. If you really want to try a threesome, I’m not opposed on principle. But I think we should try it with a different woman. You do have other friends?” 159

The Merry Widow “Yes, I do.” Her eyes took on a new sparkle. “I believe I know at least one or two who would be more than willing. Once they spy you, they’ll be eager.” “Of course, we could wait until we’re old and gray.” Jim paused. “That would give us something to look forward to.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whispered in his ear. “I like that idea, a lot. You’re nice to have around,” she said, before nipping his earlobe. “Hey,” he said, rising and standing Merry on her feet. “If we’ve resolved your weighty problem, I’d better head off to work.” “Okay. Call me. See you Saturday, if not before.” “If not before.” He waved and hurried for the door. **** “Camille, I don’t want to fight with you about it.” “Who’s fighting? I just think the bedroom is better place for me to get to know your man. You seem to think the dinner table is a better place.” Camille arched an eyebrow. “Camille! We’re not interested in a threesome. I want you and Jim to like each other, to be friends, but nothing more.” Camille climbed out of the bed and reached for a dressing gown. She wheeled about to face Merry. Absently, Merry pulled a sheet up to cover her nudity. Their lovemaking had been good, but not lovely. Maybe things were turning sour fast. “So you think he’s too good for me.” “I didn’t—” “Or maybe he thinks he’s too good for me.” “Neither, Cam. He doesn’t even know you.” “But I turned you on to sex, girl. You wouldn’t be with him if it weren’t for me. Right?’ “Probably. And I’ll be forever in your debt. And I’m not saying I want to give you up, Cam. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our love—our physical love—grew out of 160

The Merry Widow all those years. You haven’t even met Jim. He’s not a brand new toy I bought at the store that I’m unwilling to share.” She saw her friend’s anger dissipate. A broad smile replaced Cam’s scowl. “All right, girl, you may be right. I imagine I’m more curious than anything else. Yes, I’ll come to dinner Saturday. And I promise I won’t jump his bones.” “Good.” Merry threw the sheet off the bed and held out her arms. “Come back to bed, Cam. I’ve got a little more time for loving.” Camille dropped her gown to the floor, exposing those large, soft breasts Merry so wanted to squeeze and kiss. “There’s always time for a little more loving.” **** “I won’t be able to come over this weekend.” “Oh, that’s terrible.” Merry caught the concern in Jim’s voice. “Can you tell me why?” “Not much. There’s a big bust in the wind. You’ll probably read about it in the papers. I don’t get called out on these very often.” “I’ll miss you.” “Hell, lady, I’ll miss you more. Hopefully, I can keep you out of my head long enough to do my job. Losing concentration on this kind of work can be dangerous for the health.” “It’s been a while since I’ve worried about a man.” “Don’t even go there, Merry. I’m not Dan. I’m not going to die.” “I know. I know. I’m just overwhelmed with some unwanted emotions at the moment. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.” “I always worry about you.” “You do?” “Well, about us.” 161

The Merry Widow “Oh.” “You do sound melancholy.” Jim’s voice grew husky. “Would a little phone sex help?” “That one time was good.” Merry grinned into the phone. “Very good, but I’m not in the mood. Okay?” “Sure. Can’t say it’s the uppermost thing on my mind at the moment either. Guess I’d better go.” “Call me as soon as you get back.” “I will.” She heard him hesitate and then hang up. Merry lay back on the pillows and stared at the mirrors. What had he wanted to say and held back? She shivered. What had she almost said? She was spinning in unvoiced emotions. Was she spinning? Or was it the world around her spinning? **** Early Sunday morning, Merry dragged a pillow from beneath her to cover her ears. Why couldn’t she shut out that incessant ringing? She jerked wide awake. She scrambled for the phone. The red numerals on the clock said four fifteen. Her body went on hold. “Hello.” “Mrs. Merry Delaney?” “Yes.” “This is Captain Pierce with the Chicago Police Department. Thought you’d want to know Detective Barnes is in Memorial Hospital.” “What?” “He was shot early this morning.” “No.” Merry turned ice cold. “It’s not life threatening, Mrs. Delaney.” “But—” “He’s unconscious. The bullet grazed his head.” “Good God!” 162

The Merry Widow “I figured he’d want you informed. As far as I know, he doesn’t have any other family in the area.” “Of course. Thank you for calling. I’ll get dressed and drive right over.” She tugged on slacks and threw on a blouse. She ran a comb through her hair but didn’t bother with makeup. It wasn’t until she was driving to the hospital that it occurred to her to wonder how the captain knew about her. She warmed—he’d treated her like family. No judgment. No hesitation. Only a gruff voice laced with concern for one of his own. **** Upon entering the intensive care unit, Merry was instantly flooded with memories of other such units: sounds of humming machines, the sight of blinking lights and scurrying nurses and doctors, the smells of cleaning fluids, sweat, and urine. Normally, she wouldn’t be allowed in to see Jim. She wasn’t his wife. But his captain had cleared that hurdle with a phone call. She stood by Jim’s bed and clasped his hand between hers. He looked pale. His skull was heavily bandaged. Otherwise, he appeared in fairly decent shape. She’d had enough experience reading intensive care monitors to know his vital signs were quite strong. She cast a questioning look at the nurse who’d just come in to check his IV drip. “We’re just waiting for him to regain consciousness, Mrs. Delaney,” the nurse said softly. “All the signs show him improving rapidly.” “Good.” “You’ll probably be able to take him home before the day is over.” “Really?” “Unless the doc wants to keep him overnight for more observation.” The nurse checked her watch. “I’d guess if he’s 163

The Merry Widow awake before noon and shows no ill aftereffects, you’ll have him home before bedtime.” She peered at Jim. “He doesn’t look like the type who will want to stay in a hospital any longer than absolutely necessary.” “I expect you’re right about that.” Merry checked her watch after the nurse left. Six a.m. She closed her eyes and prayed. She didn’t pray often, but she hadn’t forgotten how. She wanted this man back. She didn’t want to lose him. No matter what the doctors and nurses said, she wouldn’t begin to relax until he opened his eyes and smiled at her. After calling Camille to cancel their dinner arrangements, Merry stayed by Jim’s bedside. He’d have to meet Camille later. At the moment, that didn’t seem nearly as huge as it had twelve hours earlier. Shortly after nine, Jim opened his eyes. Merry beamed, trying not to shout. His eyes slowly focused. They settled on her. The slow smile that spread across his mouth warmed her to her toes. “Hi,” he whispered. “Nice to see you. When can I get the hell out of here?” Merry chuckled. “It’s nice to see you, too. The nurse thinks I’ll be able to take you home today.” “Great.” His voice was already stronger. He frowned. “To your house?” Merry squeezed his hand. “Yes. I’ll be your nurse for a few days.” “This is a hell of a way to move in.” He gave her a lopsided half smile. “But I’ve been fantasizing about nurses for years.” “I’m taking you in for a few days. You’re not moving in.” He nodded with some difficulty. “Well, it’s start.” **** 164

The Merry Widow Two days later, with the nagging headaches diminishing considerably, Jim chuckled and grinned broadly at Merry as she entered the bedroom dressed in white from head to toe. She wore a white blouse and short white skirt. A white nurse’s hat perched askew on her head. And she wore a smile, showing gleaming white teeth and one hell of a lot of whimsy. “Where did you dig that outfit up?” “It wasn’t easy,” Merry said, coming to sit beside him on the bed. “Nurses don’t wear this stuff anymore. I found it in a theater store.” “I’m not positive traditional nurses wore white garter belts. And they probably did wear panties. Not that I’m complaining any.” “I didn’t suppose you would.” Merry smiled demurely and parted her thighs slightly. “The belt does frame my pussy rather nicely, even if I do say so myself.” “I’ll vouch for that.” He was doing everything in his power to keep his hands off of that delectable pussy. He didn’t want to spoil Merry’s show, and he knew full well she was orchestrating one just for him. Well, for both of them—she wasn’t about to leave herself out. “I thought you might be ready for a little loving. Nothing too strenuous.” He nodded his agreement. “It’s been wonderful hugging you these past couple of days and nights, but hugs do have their limitations.” “I’ve noticed.” Merry parted his robe. “Looks like Big Boy is more than ready.” Jim stared down at his cock weaving back and forth. “More than ready.” To his chagrin, Merry ignored him. She spread her hands and cupped her pussy. She chewed on her lower lip. “Jim, do 165

The Merry Widow you think I should let my pubic hairs grow back?” She spread her lips, giving him a clinician’s-eye view. He licked his lips. “You’d look adorable bald, trimmed, or shaggy.” She moved her hands across her abs and clutched her breasts. She arched her back, thrusting the breasts and taut nipples at him. His cock couldn’t get harder. She dropped her hands to her crotch and sat back on her heels. She teased him by deftly raising and lowering her hands, playing peek-a-boo with her pussy. “Maybe I’ll grow it back this winter.” “That’s what beavers do in the wild.” “Jim!” She snaked her tongue out at him. “It’s true.” She leaned over to peek at herself. “I hadn’t thought of her as a wild beaver.” “Wild doesn’t come close to describing her.” Jim laid a palm on Merry’s inner thigh. She slapped his hand away. “I’ll never try taming her,” he added. “You’d never accomplish that.” She winked. “But you can try.” With one hand, she parted her glistening pussy lips. With the other she guided his fingers to her entrance. She shifted a little forward in order to better accommodate him. She pushed one finger in and smiled. “Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how I’ve missed that.” “Me either.” She pressed down on his finger and levered back. “Two fingers, please.” Her heat warmed his soul. “Three fingers.” Her voice cracked. Her hips ground against his hand. She rose up and down, searching for the right fit. “Four fingers.” His mouth fell open as she pushed his little finger into her warm channel. His thumb assisted her fingers fanning her 166

The Merry Widow clitoris. Her smile curved downward and then up, matching her strokes. He ignored the pain in his wrist as he watched his lover find her way through another erotic maze. She was uncharacteristically silent riding his hand. He felt her pussy expand even more, allowing her to sink further. Merry drove down hard and settled. “Wiggle your fingers. Oh my God! Stop. That’s it.” She shuddered. She leaned over, kissed him on the lips, and lifted herself off his fingers. Without hesitation, she licked each of those fingers clean— one finger at a time. Her eyes rounded. **** “That was hot,” Merry said. “You’re hot.” “I haven’t forgotten you.” “No?” “Not at all.” Still on her knees, she scrunched down the bed and closed both hands around his straining cock. “I do believe he’s feeling left out.” “He does like attention.” “You know I’ve never actually watched a man come?” “You were married how long?” “Twenty-one years. But Dan came inside me.” “Oral sex?” “That was only foreplay. I never brought him off that way.” “I guess you’ve got more to learn about the male anatomy.” “Seems like.” She glanced at him with a twinkle. “Do you mind?” She squeezed his cock. “Be my guest. I don’t want my woman to be ignorant.” “Good.” She reached for lube and spread it liberally over her hands and his cock. She slowly worked his cock between thumb and finger, examining it closely as she progressed. 167

The Merry Widow “He’s handsome. I’ve never looked at a cock like this. So many veins and ripples. Soft skin.” Merry encircled its head and squeezed gingerly. Her breath caught, and then her pussy pulse kicked into gear. “I think he’s smiling back at me.” “No doubt.” She hefted his testicles. She saw him wince. “I’ll be careful. Trust me.” “Oh, I do.” She bent down and planted a kiss on them. She swirled her tongue around one and placed her mouth over it, then released him and inhaled. His musky scent permeated; she couldn’t get away from it—she had no desire to. She redirected her attention to his cock by wrapping one hand around its base and the other farther up the shaft. She worked both hands up and down and paused to look at Jim. “Tell me what you’re seeing—what you’re experiencing. I want to know.” “I’m watching the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known further her education. Her hands around my cock are warm. When she breathed on my balls, I tingled all over. You’re on my cock in the foreground, but I’m getting fleeting peeks of a bald pussy providing a background. Every once in a while, as you shift from one task to another, those full lips open slightly, as if they’re expecting more. I do think, though, your favorite cock is wondering how he’ll show you his ability to come without your assistance.” Merry gave him her best pout. “I wouldn’t want him to think I’m slow. Why don’t I begin with both hands sliding over him like this?” “That’ll work. You can count on that.” Merry chuckled at his hoarse voice. She tried to keep one eye on his cock and one on his face. There seemed to be a direct connection between what was happening with one and the other. 168

The Merry Widow She worked faster. Jim’s eyes closed. “No,” she said. “Watch me watching you.” He squinted at her, and she grinned. She twisted her hands in opposite directions while continuing to work them up and down. She watched closely as his cock seemed to expand in her hands. “You’re close. But his head is turning purple.” She slowed. “Am I hurting you?” “Christ, don’t slow down now, Merry.” “Okay.” She increased her hand movements. His hips tensed, nearly locking in place. Her lips parted. Her upper torso moved up and down with her hands. Her breathing became ragged. His nearly stopped. “I feel it happening,” she squealed, “there’s pre-cum. I can almost hear him rumbling. Good grief, here he comes.” Merry ducked back from his initial blast but could not avoid hot cum falling on her breasts. She grinned at his contorted face and his flailing arms. She knew he had to exercise a lot of control to keep his eyes focused on her, but then he had no control of what she was doing to his cock. She continued to milk him until he was finished. Cum had spread about his groin and chest and covered her fingers. “Wow. That was fantastic—what a powerful force! And he’s all mine. I’d better get you cleaned up.” “A warm washcloth will do it.” “Nonsense. Why bother with a washcloth when I have a warm tongue available?” She dipped her head and washed the softening cock. She’d enjoyed the feel of a hard cock, but a softening cock seemed more vulnerable and needful. She hoped Big Boy was appreciating the praise and thanksgiving she lavished on him. Once he was clean, Merry tongued globs off Jim’s belly. Then she wiped her breasts with her fingers and finally licked each finger clean. “Tasty.” She’s wasn’t sure Jim had blinked at all while she’d been cleaning up. She moved up the bed. He 169

The Merry Widow closed an arm around her. “That was powerful,” she said. “Think of what one could do if that energy could be tapped.” “Doubt that’s possible, but it’s a thought.” **** Merry sighed deeply and started punching numbers into her computer. She’d sent Jim home early that morning. Cripes, she’d lost nearly a week. That wasn’t true. They’d shared many delightful moments, but there hadn’t been much time for work. She still had to earn a living. Merry peered out at her yard. Why hadn’t they heard from that mobster guy yet? Maybe they’d given up on her. Maybe Jim was wrong on that count. She hoped so. It still bothered her some to think strangers might be snapping pictures of her. Not that working at her desk was particularly risqué. She’d gotten Jim to agree they needed some space, given that they’d been living on top of each other for the past several days. There was no way she’d wanted to leave him for Girls’ Night Out on Wednesday. She’d have to soothe Camille’s ruffled feathers. Her body warmed as she imagined ways she might set out to do that. “Knock, knock.” Merry looked up to see her daughter standing in her office doorway, dangling a house key. “Mom, you may have to buy a hearing aid. You didn’t hear the doorbell or my knocking.” Merry frowned. “I’m sorry.” “Daydreaming, no doubt. I came by to pick up my files. I assume you did the books?” “It’s one of the few things I did finish over the last several days.” “So how’s your cop?” “He’s fine. Almost getting killed probably was more of a shock to his psyche than to his body. He was lucky. Very lucky.” 170

The Merry Widow “You too, Mom. You were lucky not to lose him.” “I know.” Merry couldn’t help tearing up. “Believe me. I know.” “Looks like Detective Barnes is becoming a permanent fixture.” “Maybe. He has possibilities. Here’s your files, Tiff.” Tiffany turned to leave, then whirled around. “I almost forgot. Good news.” “What’s that?” “I dumped Michael Stanley, and I have a tattoo appointment set for us next Thursday.” Merry nodded and couldn’t stop smiling. “Michael didn’t work out?” “Dating him was like dating sports talk radio. I’m into sports, but it’s not my whole reason for being. My sex life had started to feel like some athletic challenge.” Tiffany grinned sweetly. “But then you probably know about how that feels.” “Don’t remind me. So what time is the tattoo appointment?” “Nine o’clock.” “Good. I’ll write it in my calendar.” “So have you decided what you want the tattooist to do yet?” “No, I’ve had my hands rather full lately.” “I bet.” Tiffany backed away from Merry’s scowl. “I know you don’t want to do this, Mom. But maybe you should give me a list of the young guys you dated so we won’t have the kind of situation that happened with Michael.” “Maybe I should. That had a lot of potential for discomfort. I’ll think about it. It won’t be a long list.” “It won’t fill up a yellow pad?” “You’re fishing, Tiffany. Rest assured, the list won’t fill up a legal pad.” She smiled at her daughter’s arched eyebrows. “I’ll 171

The Merry Widow call you before the Thursday appointment. I’ve got to get back to work now.” Merry smiled as Tiffany scurried toward the doorway. Truth be known, it was a damned short list. Which did she enjoy more? Keeping her daughter in the dark regarding her mother’s love life, or knowing she wouldn’t bring home a man her mother had auditioned in bed? She reached for a small scratch pad and started jotting down names. **** “Cripes, Merry, your pussy juices are flowing down my ass.” Camille knelt on the floor with her upper torso on the couch. Merry stood behind her. With her pussy still glued to Camille’s butt, Merry crouched over to kiss the outline of Camille’s spine. “That doesn’t surprise me. Feels like I’ve been coming for twenty minutes.” She slithered her pussy across Camille’s ass cheeks. The woman was right. Her butt was slick, and not only with sweat. Camille shook her head. “You’ve become insatiable, girl.” “I wish.” “Stand right there. Don’t move.” Merry nodded and smiled at her friend, who spun around on her knees to face her. Camille’s breath warmed Merry’s vulva. But not for long. Camille’s tongue wedged its way along Merry’s crevice. Two fingers played at her entrance and then rotated inward. “You are a tasty morsel, girl.” Merry widened her stance when Camille shoved her tongue into her pussy, joining the two fingers. Merry bore down. More of her juices sought release. She felt Cam slip a hand behind and a finger enter her ass. “Yes,” she moaned, tipping over to clutch Camille’s back. 172

The Merry Widow “Finger me.” Fingers and tongue drove her into another frenzy. “I’m coming.” Camille removed her fingers and swallowed Merry’s juices. At last Merry’s hips stopped churning. She sighed deeply. Camille was carrying most of her weight. She looked down at her friend, who looked up at her and smacked her lips. “That was scrumptious.” Merry managed a small smile before falling onto the couch. She bounced and grinned back at her friend. If Camille had had ruffled feathers, they didn’t seem to be in evidence anymore. “Come here and hold me, Cam.” Merry laid her head on her favorite breasts and flicked a nipple with her tongue. “That was good for me, too. Very good.”

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Chapter 11 “She did a beautiful job, Mom. I watched every step of the way.” Merry refrained from trying to rub her right butt cheek, now covered in gauze and safely hidden under the loose cotton panties she’d been told to bring along. “It had better look like a masterpiece. It hurts like hell.” “I’m so glad you brought the crystal chrysalis along. She copied it exactly, about two inches long. You’ll be thrilled with it!” Merry thanked Mrs. Columbus profusely and paid her bill and Tiffany’s. Tiff had a tiny heart tattooed on her right breast. Merry winced. That might be much more painful than having a tattoo etched on your butt. She left the store smiling. What were her lovers going to think about her newest addition? She hadn’t breathed a word about it to Jim or Camille. She had over a week to heal before seeing either one of them. Jim had to work the coming weekend but had agreed to accompany her the next Sunday to Florence’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary gala. And she’d already informed Camille she couldn’t make their next Wednesday night date because of a business commitment. If all went well, Mrs. Columbus expected Merry would be ready for entertaining by that weekend. Merry was determined 174

The Merry Widow that her healing would go well. She intended to follow the aftercare recommendations religiously. **** “We meet at last,” Camille said, smiling easily. Jim shook the woman’s extended hand; Merry kept her arm tucked at his side. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Camille. I’ve heard so much about you.” He didn’t see any need to inform her that he’d also seen her naked body in the throes of passion on several occasions. He thought he felt Merry exhale and breathe more normally. This wasn’t exactly how they’d planned to meet, but the shooting had disrupted those plans. Maybe this was best, surrounded by fifty or sixty people carrying on their own conversations. No one seemed to pay much attention to the three of them. “We should reschedule our dinner,” Camille was saying to Merry. “I’d forgotten.” She winked at him. “You need to know I’m easy with whatever Merry wants. The last thing I want is a lot of tension between us. Any of us.” “Me too,” he said, though it was still difficult to comprehend that he was here, standing in a crowd making niceynice with Merry’s other lover. Well, at least one of them. “I’ll catch you later,” Camille said, over her shoulder. “I’ve got a message for Julie over by the punch bowl.” Jim watched the dark-haired beauty stroll confidently across the large living room to the adjoining dining room and fold herself into the arms of a stunning, statuesque redhead. They embraced and began to talk. “That pretty redhead is Julie,” Merry said, taking in the same scene. “I’ve talked to her about you.”

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The Merry Widow He glanced at Merry. There wasn’t a hint of jealousy or concern on her face. “Another Girls’ Night Out participant?” he whispered in Merry’s ear. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered back. “I wouldn’t tell you if she was. Would she satisfy your threesome fantasy?” His arousal was immediate. He knew Merry was laughing at him, but was she teasing? He glanced back at the redhead. She’d spied him and was giving him the once-over. Holy shit. “She likes—” “Can I pry Merry from you for a few minutes, Jim?” Florence said, interrupting whatever Merry was going to say. “We won’t be long.” “Sure. I can be trusted alone for a few minutes.” He watched Florence lead Merry out a patio doorway. **** Merry welcomed the warmth of Florence’s hand guiding her across the patio toward a softly lit gazebo. They had the beautiful setting to themselves. “I may have to build one of these, Flo. It’s lovely. And you look so happy tonight. Congratulations, again. Twenty-five years of marriage is an achievement.” “Yes, it is.” Florence’s smile glittered as brightly as her diamond necklace. “I like your friend, Merry. The two of you look great together.” “Thanks.” “He’s in love with you, you know.” Merry hesitated. There was no need to deny it. “Yes, I know.” “What are you going to do about him?” “I’m not sure.” “I’ve been thinking lately about our last conversation at Camille’s. You remember?” “Flo, how could I forget? You were wonderful.” 176

The Merry Widow “Well, so were you, but that’s not what I meant. You asked me about how often I participated in Girls’ Night Out.” “Yes.” “I think I implied I’d want more when our youngest graduated.” “Yes, I remember you distinctly saying that.” Flo raised and lowered a shoulder. “I may have been too hasty with my response. I expect once or twice a month is the right balance for me and Raymond. Any more might put too much of a strain on our relationship.” “Okay.” So what else was she supposed to say? “Maybe it’s like the statue of the blindfolded woman holding the scales of justice. I’ve seen hundreds of those pictures. The scales are never equal, but they are balanced.” “Yes.” “I know I’m not making much sense, but Raymond is my primary relationship. Girls’ Night Out—while I love all the women involved—is secondary.” “I understand, Florence.” “I guess each of us has to decide what’s best for us, but I don’t think we can balance these kinds of relationships equally.” Merry hugged her friend. “You may be right. I’ll have to think on it. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Florence stood back. “You’ll never guess what Raymond bought me for our anniversary.” “Tell me.” “Besides this diamond necklace and reservations for two weeks in Bermuda, he gave me a pink t-shirt.” Merry frowned at her glowing friend. “On the front, across the top is written “Girls’ Night Out,” and right where one boob sits is a smiley face.” Merry covered her mouth to hold back a scream. “He does know.” 177

The Merry Widow “Uh, huh. He’ll never talk about it, but he surely showed me he’s okay with it.” “I’m thrilled for you. By the way, you don’t do threesomes with guys, do you?” “Absolutely not. That’d be cheating. Raymond’s my primary and only stud. We’d better get back to the others. I trust you’ll ponder what I’ve said. Camille can be unrealistic with some of her expectations.” “Ah. I will. Thanks, Flo. May you have another glorious twenty-five years.” “Oh, I plan on that. And I hope to hook up with you more often, too. I love to listen to you come.” Merry shook her head. “Am I that noisy?” “Your exuberance is a natural aphrodisiac. I hope no one’s giving you a hard time about that.” “No. No one is, but—” “You may want to tone it down, if possible, if you’re in a hotel room. Your neighbors might start pounding on the wall.” “I used to be so quiet. I hardly uttered a sound when I did come, which was seldom.” “You’re making up for lost years; you’re getting your voice back. Come on, now. We’ve gotta get back inside.” **** As soon as they were in the car heading to her house, Merry said, “Well, tell me what you thought of the party.” “It wasn’t unpleasant. I’ve been at far worse.” “That’s not telling me much.” “Raymond and Florence seem like good, solid folk. I assume Florence is another Girls’ Night Out gal.” “I’m not saying one way or the other. What about Camille?” “She’s fine. Camille and I will get along. You don’t have to worry.” “Because of me?” 178

The Merry Widow “Because of you.” “But not a threesome prospect?” “Not at all.” “I saw you talking with Julie. What do you think of her?” “The redhead bombshell? I’d have to be brain dead not to notice her.” “I imagine a girl would have to be very confident in herself before inviting Julie to a threesome with her man.” Merry wished she could see Jim more clearly in the shadowy car. He reached over and squeezed her thigh. “How confident are you?” Merry chuckled softly. “Why do you think she was checking you out?” “Damn.” Jim placed both hands on the steering wheel. “And?” he finally asked hoarsely. “Oh, you passed with flying colors. She’d love to hook up with us.” She rubbed Jim’s cheek with the back of her hand. “So how adventuresome are you, lover? Do you think you could handle me and Julie at the same time?” She leaned across the seat and dipped her tongue in his ear. “Jesus, Merry. Let’s not get in an accident.” “Well, I’m waiting for an answer.” “Yes,” he whispered. “Excellent. I’ll see what I can work out. You won’t be disappointed. Julie is classy, like a fine piece of silk—and quite tasty.” **** Jim slipped into a robe and stood by the bedroom window watching Merry disrobe. This had become one of his favorite pastimes. Each time she stepped out of her clothes, he marveled at the uplift of her breasts, the slope of her ass, and the bare, full labia. The physical effect on him was always swift and hard. 179

The Merry Widow He still couldn’t believe their conversation in the car. Had she really set Julie up? Would he ever be as adventuresome as his Merry Widow? Tonight, she’d left her bra, panties, and stockings on. He could probably still get out of the threesome with Julie. He shook his head in disbelief. He wasn’t that much of an idiot. His eyes dropped to Merry’s ankles. “Hey, that’s a nice gold ankle bracelet—a touch of class for an already very classy lady.” “I was wondering when you’d notice. It’s been there all evening.” “Really? I must be slipping.” “Maybe there were too many other women to ogle.” “Hardly. I probably couldn’t get past ogling your breasts and ass.” “Speaking of,” she said, sliding her panties and stockings down her legs. “I have something else to show you.” She pivoted, displaying her backside, then bent over and grabbed her ankles. “Holy crap, Merry! What did you do?” He stepped over and gingerly touched the chrysalis tattoo. “It’s—it’s outstanding.” “I’m glad you like. I’m quite pleased with it myself.” “It’s a miniature of the one on the shelf.” “Exactly. Only this one you get to touch.” Merry climbed onto the foot of the bed, stretched out her torso, and tucked her legs underneath, raising her tattoo for his inspection. “I’m told it won’t come off. Why don’t you lick it and see if I wasn’t lied to?” “Sure, I can do that.” He knelt on the floor and examined the tattoo more closely. It was an exact replica. The butterfly had one wing free and the second partially out of the cocoon. “Whoever did this is an artist.” He licked at it. The multiple colors deepened. “It’s transforming,” he whispered. “That’s the 180

The Merry Widow sexiest thing I’ve seen since the first time I saw your pussy. Look, the colors are turning darker when wet.” “Let me see.” She angled her body to catch the tattoo in the mirror. “That’s miraculous. This may turn out to be one of the best things I’ve ever done.” “How long have you wanted a tattoo?” “Not long. The possibility occurred to me about a month ago. I mulled the idea over and it grew on me. There was never a question of what the tattoo would be or where it would go.” “It is a gorgeous addition to an already beautiful ass.” “Yes, well. Why don’t you try biting it? Not too hard.” He scraped his teeth over the tattoo. “Goodness.” He sucked some of her butt cheek into his mouth and bit gently. “Wow.” She squirmed. He pinched her other cheek. “Enough.” He rocked back on his heels. She twisted around to give him a brilliant smile. “Pull that nightstand drawer open. Grab a condom and some lube. I want you in my ass.” Jim’s heart stopped and started. “Are you sure?” She nodded. “I’ve prepared for weeks. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” Jim shrugged as he worked the condom over his penis. “It’s not like you’ve never been fucked in the ass.” “You have a long memory, Jim. Mason’s cock was a slim wiener compared to what you have between your legs. You might as well think of yourself as the first. He was a gentleman, but I’ve had vibrators larger than his cock.” “He did demonstrate the importance of romance.” “I’m glad he was a useful role model for you, but let’s forget about Mason. If you’re done admiring my ass, would you get on with it?” Merry tucked deeper. She reached behind her and spread her ass cheeks wide. 181

The Merry Widow Jim swallowed. Her brown hole opened like it was welcoming an old friend. “I’ll always admire your ass,” he managed to mumble. He worked some lube around its edges and was pleased to see Merry’s butt quiver. She wasn’t quite as nonchalant about this as she was trying to let on. He placed his cock at her entrance and eased forward. She took an inch before he ran into a barrier. “Wait,” she said, “go slow.” He watched her face contort in the mirror. Pain or joy? He wasn’t sure which. He sensed her relaxing and expanding for him. A smile crept across her lips. “Try a little more.” He pushed further in. He was startled when her butt cheeks pressed against his groin. Merry beamed broadly. “I didn’t know it was going to be that easy. I’ve got all of him?” “You’ve got all of him.” “Damn, why did we wait so long? Ease back a little. Squirt some more lube on to be safe.” “All right. Done.” He settled back against her rump. God, her ass was hotter than her pussy. Will she melt the condom? Merry turned her head and gave him a wicked smile. “Okay lover, fuck my ass!” He didn’t need any more instruction. He aimed to please. He watched his cock slide in and out of her ass, surprised by the tight fit and smooth ride. “Nice,” she moaned. She reached beneath them, and her elbow began to jerk at a feverish pitch. Jim could only imagine what her fingers were doing to her clit. Something tripped in his brain, in his cock, somewhere, and he responded by pounding against Merry’s butt, driving deeper and deeper. “Ah,” she exclaimed. “Go for—” 182

The Merry Widow Her words were swallowed up by his own shout. “Holy fuck!” He closed his eyes and let himself come. Briefly, he wished he wasn’t wearing a condom. Depleted, out of breath, he rested his chest on Merry’s back. He turned his head to the side and saw her in the mirror. She winked at him. They were both panting like a couple of dogs in heat. Her eyes were smoky. Merry smiled lazily at him. “Don’t move. You’re comfortable in me. That deserves an encore.” She laughed at his quelling look. “Not now. Definitely a keeper, though. Don’t you agree?” He nodded. He couldn’t put his experience into words yet. He closed his eyes. The image of her colorful tattoo fluttered across his brain. **** Jim dug into the scrambled eggs and bacon Merry set before him. Surprisingly, she was a terrific cook. The kitchen wasn’t just for show. And she wasn’t one of those women who only ate tofu and vegetarian—that might be fine for them, but he required more sustenance. Fortunately, so did Merry. Once again she was rather quiet—at least for Merry. He’d been around her often enough to know she usually got up very chipper and was sometimes difficult to tolerate because she had her day going on autopilot long before his began. So when she slowed down and turned this thoughtful, she was chewing on something really big. He decided he didn’t have to wait for her to spit it out. “Julie’s not married. Right?” Merry gave him a startled glance. “What? Right. No, she went through an ugly divorce about five years ago, I believe.” “How long has she been a member of your group?”

183

The Merry Widow “Long enough. Longer than me.” Merry shook her head at him. “If she wants you to know any more of her personal history, she’ll have to tell you herself.” “She’s willing to share her body, but not her soul.” “Something like that.” Jim reached for his coffee cup but set it down before bringing it to his lips. “And what about you, Merry Widow? How are your body and soul doing?” He gloried in the satisfied smile creeping across her lips. “You have most of my body. No. Let me be clearer than that. I willingly and eagerly share my entire body with you. If I’ve missed something, let me know. But I’ve shared. My soul?” Merry inhaled and blew against the blond hair spilling over her brow. “I’ve probably shared too much of my soul already.” “But you’re not kicking me out of your life?” “Not hardly. Are you walking away?” “I hope you’re kidding.” Jim drained his coffee, got up, and filled both their cups. When he sat back down, she said, “I need to check in with you, Jim.” He nodded. “Shoot.” “Not a good metaphor.” “Right. Sorry.” “How are you doing with me loving other women?” She held up her palm to prevent him for interrupting. “Wait, let me finish. I admit what’s happening between you and me is becoming more serious. Yes, the sex is,” she licked her lips, “spectacular. If anything it’s becoming easier. Sharing my ass with you has been on my mind since fantasizing about that with you on the phone. Then it was only sex. Last night it was more than that. I wasn’t only offering my ass; I was offering a part of my soul.” “I think it’s called intimacy,” he dared to say, “at least.” 184

The Merry Widow “It may be called lots of things, but I’m not ready to name it. What’s more important is that I’m feeling it for you. And I sense you feeling it for me.” He nodded his agreement, still not clear where she was headed. That seemed to be his constant state of mind these days. “I can’t explain my feelings for you. Maybe it goes back to seeing you in intensive care and sorting through what I’d do if I lost you. Don’t get me wrong. I’d survive.” “Of course you would.” “But I don’t want to be without you. Maybe that hospital experience set us on a fast track that isn’t normal. But I am feeling some special things for you.” “But, there’s a hitch to this—to this unmentionable emotion. Spit it out.” She glanced quickly away and then back to bore her eyes into him. “But I’m not willing to give up Girls’ Night Out, or what it stands for.” “Your liberty—your independence?” “Maybe. Taking control of my body, of my feelings. I’m not certain. I was almost completely merged with Dan’s identity after we married. I was his wife. The mother of his child. There were days when I wondered if I existed. It got better when I started college part-time. But even after getting my degree, I worked in his accounting firm. And then when he became ill I was swallowed up by his disease. I was the poor valiant wife. The caretaker. The nurse.” She chuckled. “Not to be confused with your nurse in a white garter belt and no panties. A far cry from that. “A shrink would probably say all of this is rationalization— so I can feel okay being with women. But I don’t care if it is. It feels right. I’m not hurting anyone, and I’m not hiding anything from the most important man in my life.” Jim swallowed hard. 185

The Merry Widow “I enjoy making love to women and I’m not prepared to give that part of me up for you or for anyone else.” He rose and slanted a soft kiss across her mouth, then sat back on his stool. “You don’t have to give up women. Not for me. Not now. I’m adjusting. I don’t claim that’s easy. But it’s not so difficult that I’d want to scuttle what you and I have and what this could lead to.” “Maybe being with Julie and me together will help in some way.” “Perhaps. Will Camille find out?” “Probably.” “She’s not going to be pleased.” “I’m my own woman. I don’t need her to hold my hand when I’m loving another woman.” “Whoa,” Jim said, frowning. “That sounds quite charged. So this thing with Julie is as big for you as it’d be for me.” “Yes.” “I’m glad we had this little talk.” He took her hand in his. “I thought the threesome idea was only somehow to appease me. If you need to do it for you too, then I’m much more willing to join in as an eager partner.” “It’s all right to do some things just for you. Or do you have a problem with that? I thought that was a woman’s problem.” Jim shrugged his shoulders. He was not an expert on differences between men and women, and that sounded like a minefield. “You know,” Merry continued with a coy smile, “you still haven’t done me on this island.” Jim choked. He’d have to be a mental gymnast to keep up with her. “We’ll get to it. It takes time to get to everything one of us thinks of. I do think about it, though—just about every time I sit on one of these stools.” 186

The Merry Widow “Good. I wouldn’t want you to forget.” Merry stood and refilled her coffee cup. “I have to crank out some end-of-themonth reports today. What about you?” “Yeah. I’d better get going. I should check in at the station house before going home. We old guys do need some rest now and then.” “I’m sorry if I’m so taxing. Maybe having those other women satisfy me is helping you stay fresh.” He stood and grabbed his gun from the island and strapped it on. “I hadn’t thought of that. Call me if anything pops up I should know about. I don’t know why you haven’t heard from the mob yet. It’s not like them to let a mark walk away this easily.” Merry waved at him over her shoulder and headed toward her office. “I’ll call when I know for sure when Julie will be able to hook up.” “Right,” Jim muttered, heading for the foyer. His life used to be so sane. Sane and boring!

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Chapter 12 Jim tried not to gawk at the stunning redhead. She was a sharp dresser even when she wore shorts. Those had to be expensive pale-blue shorts, and she wore a pricey-looking yellow blouse. He had no idea what type of shoes she had on, but they weren’t cheap, either. She’d just arrived and had given Merry a hug and then eyed him. He was shifting from foot to foot like some inexperienced teenager. Why was he so nervous? He hoped his palms weren’t sweating. She smiled easily at him and offered her hand. At least he didn’t wipe his on his shorts before shaking hers. “Good to see you again,” he said. “I’ve made some lemonade,” Merry broke in. “It’s in the living room.” “Great,” Julie said softly. “I could use some.” Once Jim and Merry were seated on the couch and Julie in the armchair, Julie glanced quickly about. “You have a lovely house, Merry. It looks lived in—not just a show palace.” “Thanks.” “Look, you two,” Julie began in earnest. “We all know why I’m here, and I’m not reneging at all. I’m really looking forward to our time together. But I need to tell you—particularly you, Jim—a little about myself. And what I’m looking for.” Jim nodded to let her know he was paying attention. Fortunately, she hadn’t asked him a question. Christ, he was a 188

The Merry Widow forty-six-year-old seasoned cop. Why was he on pins and needles? Surely this wasn’t performance anxiety. He might have suffered from numerous maladies over the years, but that wasn’t one of them. Mentally, he checked on his cock. It was hard—so much for performance anxiety. He smiled at Julie. “I’ve known Merry most of my adult life,” she said. “We’ve attended the same church for years.” “Really?” He blinked and glanced quickly at Merry. “It’s been more difficult getting out of bed on Sunday mornings since you’ve popped into my life,” Merry teased. “Ah.” He looked back at Julie. “Of course, it’s only been recently that I’ve really come to know Merry.” Seeing color rise in Julie’s cheeks to accompany a smoldering passion in her eyes pleased Jim immensely. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was a little uncomfortable. “I’m a professor of political science at one of the local universities. Merry can vouch for my health testing, as she has done for yours. Like her, I’ve had a partial hysterectomy. So there’s no need for a condom, unless I want you in my ass. Then I insist on a condom.” “Of course.” Jim nodded and wished he could get rid of the cotton clogging his throat. “I’ve been divorced for five years. The bastard beat me on a regular basis.” “I’m sorry,” Jim said. “It’s over. But I’ve taken control of my body, and what I do with it is my business and no one else’s. I didn’t come here to get between the two of you. Holy hell,” she squeaked, “that’s precisely why I am here. But I don’t want to harm your relationship in any way. “I expect and want to be loved in the moment. I’m not just into slam-bang sex. And I promise I will love the two of you in 189

The Merry Widow the moment. Beyond that, I promise nothing. This may be our only time together, or we may mutually choose to hook up more often.” Jim noticed out of the corner of his eye that Merry was nodding her agreement. “Jim,” Julie said, directing her gaze solely on him, “you need to know that after tonight, I will not make love with Merry unless you are also involved.” “But—” “Yes, she and I have made love before, as I assume you and she have.” He jerked his head to look at Merry, who had been amazingly quiet through Julie’s soliloquy. “Did you know about this?” “Yes.” “And you were still willing to give her up—” “Yes, for the three of us.” “Jesus.” Jim wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I hope this hasn’t sounded too much like a class lecture, but it’s very important to me that I’m understood. But enough seriousness. I don’t require a written contract, but it is vital that you realize how freely we all join in this little adventure Merry has arranged for us. Tell us about it, Merry.” “I believe I’ve informed you about the broad plan, but I did want to surprise Jim. I hope that’s okay.” “I’m sure it will be.” “We’ll leave here shortly for Lincoln Park Zoo, where we can play and laugh and wash away some of the tension that exists in this room,” Merry explained. “We have reservations at a comfortable seafood restaurant. I know that’s Jim’s favorite food. And we have a suite reserved at a first-class hotel downtown.” 190

The Merry Widow Jim gave a low whistle. “You have been working behind the scenes—sounds great to me. I do like the idea of spending time together before—” He cocked his head to the side. “Well, you both know what I mean.” Both women laughed and bobbed their heads. Merry stood and led the way. “Let’s take my car,” she offered. “It’s the largest, and we can all fit in the front seat.” “Neat,” Julie said. “Let me grab my straw hat. My pale skin doesn’t do too well with bright sun.” “We’ll make sure we find plenty of shade,” Jim said, climbing into the driver’s seat. It was a tight squeeze, but Merry was right, they all did fit in the front. Julie’s bare thigh rested against his, out of necessity or desire. Jim adjusted the rearview mirror and backed out the driveway. **** “Coming to Lincoln Park was a great idea,” Jim said as the trio finished their ice-cream cones and headed for the seals. They’d already walked through the petting zoo. Merry had insisted. And she’d petted the sheep, the goats, the donkeys, and anything else that’d let her. She’d thrown herself into this experience like a kid. He and Julie, on the other hand, were a bit more reserved. They’d exchanged smiles and traded off taking verbal jabs at Merry for her eagerness. And occasionally they’d petted an animal. They headed up the sidewalk toward the seals with Julie in the middle, clasping a hand in each of hers. If there were stares, he hadn’t noticed. Merry leaned far over the railing to get as close to the seals as she possibly could. One leaped and splashed right in front of her. She jumped back from the railing, shaking water from her hair. She looked up at him and Julie and burst out laughing. They joined her laughter and hugged her tight. Her wet spaghetti191

The Merry Widow strapped top made it quite apparent she wasn’t wearing a bra. Julie whispered something in her ear. Merry looked down at her nipples and winced. “Maybe it’s time to check in at our suite.” Jim grinned at her rare moment of discomfort. “You look ready. Let’s go.” He guided the women back to their car. His tension had disappeared. He wasn’t quite sure what to anticipate for the rest of the evening. But the three of them seemed much more at ease with each other. Things couldn’t go too wrong soon. There was dinner to get through before things would really heat up. **** “It’s a lovely suite, Merry,” Julie said, unpacking her garment bag. “I love the huge, red, round bed. How did you find it?” Merry smirked. “I had to call a lot of hotels before I found this one. But it is alluring, isn’t it? What do you think, Jim?” “Must’ve cost a bundle.” “Just like a man,” Merry grumbled. “It’ll be well worth it. Look, guys, we’ve only got about forty-five minutes until our reservation at the restaurant. We’d better change and get ready.” Jim turned his back to the women and tossed his bag on the chair in the corner. The women were giggling behind him. There didn’t seem to be any established protocol for changing clothes. He heard them tossing their shoes on the floor and the sounds of zippers. He shrugged and took his time shucking his pants and pulling off his shirt. He unzipped his garment bag and reached for his dress shirt. “Jim,” Merry called. “Come here, Jim.” He turned around to see the two women rubbing their breasts together. His lips dried. So much for any potential embarrassment with changing clothes. 192

The Merry Widow “I’ll call and change or cancel our dinner reservation later. It looks like we have more pressing matters to attend to. Look how far Julie’s nipples stretch when she’s aroused. Aren’t they awesome?” Merry slipped one in her mouth and waved for him. Julie smiled and offered him the other breast. Hell. He fondled the breast and settled his mouth over the protruding nipple. Julie moaned and clasped his and Merry’s heads tighter to her body. “That’s delicious, you two. It is so nice having two mouths on my breasts at the same time, but would you kiss me please, Jim?” He covered her breast with a hand and met her parted lips with his. She kissed slowly, as if they had forever. He worked his arms around her, and Merry dropped to her knees between him and Julie. It was a long, tender kiss. He might melt before Julie was done kissing him. Then he realized Merry’s hands weren’t idle. Apparently she’d managed to slip Julie’s panties down below her knees. From the women’s moans echoing in his mouth, he figured Merry was busy fingering Julie’s pussy. He startled when a hand dipped into his shorts and pulled them down. He didn’t want to break off the kiss to see what Merry was up to. But then he didn’t have to use his eyes to know. She had his cock in her hand and then in her mouth. She must be alternating between him and Julie. Julie’s tongue finally entered his open mouth. She probed slowly at first, then more rapidly, probably mimicking Merry’s fingers in her pussy. At last she broke off their kiss and rested her head on his shoulder. Her mane of red hair blocked his view of what was taking place below. “That’s exquisite, Merry. That’s it!” Julie backed away from his embrace and joined Merry on her knees to lap at his cock. He shivered, watching one woman slither up one side of his cock 193

The Merry Widow and the other slither up the other side. They met at the top and kissed deeply before Julie said, “Merry, you still have your panties on. We must do something about that.” Merry stood. Jim watched the redhead hook her fingers in Merry’s panties and tug them down. “Stand right there for a moment,” Julie instructed. Jim resisted grabbing his cock as he watched Julie lick Merry’s pussy from side to side, from top to bottom, and then ever so slightly ease her tongue inside. Is this woman a tease? Or is she just slow and deliberate? It seemed like she did everything in slow motion. That wasn’t bad—maybe he’d become too adjusted to Merry, his whirling dervish. She possessed a slow gear, but she seldom used it. Merry helped Julie to her feet. “We need to take enough of a break for me to call the restaurant.” “That’s fine,” Jim commented. “I need to use the bathroom.” By the time he returned, both women were lying on their backs on the big round bed. They’d been whispering and giggling, no doubt planning their next steps. That was okay with him. He didn’t want to be in charge. “We now have late dinner reservations,” Merry informed him. “We’ll be with the last seating at nine-thirty. We have plenty of time for whatever we want to do. Do you have any suggestions?” Jim didn’t even try keeping his eyes off the familiar bald pussy and the red curls outlining Julie’s. “I’m in your hands,” he said. “I trust you completely.” “Good. We thought you might leave it up to us. Julie, do you want to tell him?” “I haven’t had a cock in quite some time, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to be on top.” “That sounds fine. What about Merry?” 194

The Merry Widow Julie giggled. “She’ll help out.” “Come on, Jim. Come and lie down between us,” Merry said, sliding over to make room for him. Once he was settled, Julie leaned over and kissed him, a shorter kiss than her first one. She slithered down his chest, seemingly in a bit of a hurry to get to where she was going. She held his cock in her hand. “This is a very nice specimen, Jim. I’ll try not to be jealous, Merry.” “Are you sure you’re ready, Julie?” Merry asked. “Positive.” Jim watched those red curls rise. He tried not to blink. She lowered her body centimeter by centimeter down his shaft. He glanced at Merry, who wet her lips with her eyes fixed on the joining taking place. Her hands were fondling her own breasts. Finally, Julie rested on his groin with him completely incased in her warm, tight chamber. He let out the breath he’d been holding. Julie squirmed her bottom. She levered her body up and down gradually, as if breaking in a new toy. “Join in, Merry. I don’t want to hog Jim.” “Oh, okay. But it is fun watching. Let me see, where shall I be? Jim, prop your head up more with that pillow. Good.” She straddled his chest facing Julie. Her pussy grazed his lips. He laved her pussy and listened for her moans. They were more subdued than normal, but clearly he’d found the right spot on the first try. She pulled away from him, leaving him with her taste on his lips. She didn’t go far. She was licking his cock when Julie rose and no doubt the woman’s pussy when she rested and wiggled on his groin. “This is wonderful, guys,” Julie said in a husky voice. “This should be bottled and savored like vintage wine.” It was wonderful, but he expected Julie knew more about savoring wine than he did. Merry jammed her pussy back against his face. He wasn’t slow about filling it with his tongue. 195

The Merry Widow “Pull on your nipples, Julie,” Merry squealed. She must’ve had a better view than he did. About all he could see was flesh and a dark asshole. He hoped Julie came before he suffocated. Merry stayed busy. “I’ll tend to your clit.” “Goodness, Merry, this is too much. Please feel free to move, Jim. You’re more than adequately seated.” He tried to match her rhythm. He met Julie on her downstroke. They managed this for a couple of minutes. Then Julie picked up the pace slightly. “Cripes, Merry, don’t stop.” He heard Merry coaxing Julie, “Come on, Julie. Don’t hold back. You can do it. Let go. You’re almost there. You’ve almost got him. Jim’s ready to fill you. Squeeze him. Make him come.” He didn’t know if it was Merry’s cheerleading or if she’d found a main switch somewhere on Julie’s clit, but the woman went crazy. She shifted from first to fifth gear without stripping a single gear. His cock was on fire. The woman was on autopilot, screaming bloody hell. He wished for Merry’s mirrored walls. Here he was in the midst of his first threesome, and he couldn’t even see what was happening. He was developing a very different understanding of flying blind and flying by the seat of the pants. But he sure was flying—not soaring—flying like a stealth bomber. “He’s coming!” Julie shouted triumphantly. “Jesus, I’m coming! So much!” Merry ground her pussy against his mouth. He tongued her and she rocked back and forth until he tasted her juices. His cock remained smothered in Julie’s juices and his cum. So much was happening at once he was sure his onboard circuitry was going to short out. Merry fell to his side, giggling, and Julie collapsed on his chest, gasping for air. He put his arms around the redhead and hugged her snug. Merry stroked Julie’s shoulder. “That was 196

The Merry Widow good, Julie. I’ve never seen you let loose like that. I’ve been enamored with your ability to be so under control and to prolong things, but this was fantastic to watch. You lost control, and that was good.” “Good?” Julie said, turning her head to face Merry. “I don’t know a word in the English lexicon that adequately explains what just happened. I orgasm, a lot, but they usually resemble small ripples breaking across a placid lake. This was a hurricane. I may not move for a week.” “Don’t rush on my account,” Jim said, raking his hands through her long hair. Merry giggled again. “We’ll do better by you after dinner, Jim. You probably didn’t have a very good view. And visual eroticism can be beautiful in three-ways. “I never tire of observing my favorite pussy.” “You’re the man,” she kidded. Julie propped herself up on her arms. “He sure is that. All man. Heavens, Merry. I sounded like you. And you hardly whimpered when you came. What’s that about?” “I didn’t want our neighbors pounding on the wall.” “That could be distracting. Maybe they aren’t in. I was surely screaming. And I don’t scream.” So the professor was loosening up on this outing. Jim smiled to himself. Seemed like they all had something to learn. She had seemed a little stuffy at first. And then she’d been “one of the guys” at Lincoln Park. Apparently, she thought lovemaking should be prolonged and savored. He might have more to learn about savoring, but Professor Julie had something to learn about chugging. Girls’ Night Out must be a huge step for her. “We should probably begin showering, you two,” Merry said through a yawn. “We can’t be late for our dinner reservations. They shut the doors for newcomers at nine thirty.” 197

The Merry Widow “I’m sure I’ll be able to eat once I get there,” Julie said, sitting up and gingerly lifting off of Jim’s cock. She bent over and kissed its tip. “You were tremendous.” She winked at Merry. “I know he’s yours. But maybe I should have a plastic vibrator made from his mold.” “I’d suggest showers singly, guys,” Merry said, “or we may never get to the restaurant. Why don’t you go first, Julie?” “If I can walk.” She stood. “Yes, the legs still work. No funny business while I’m gone.” “None,” Merry said, raising her hand in a solemn promise. “That’s a ground rule of our threesome. When we’re together, we’re together. Trust me. I don’t want to cram three people into the shower. Maybe we’ll do the Jacuzzi later, though.” “That sounds like fun. I won’t be long.” Merry and Jim looked at each other. When they heard the shower turn on, they giggled softly. “She’s a stitch,” Jim said. “So cool and refined, and then she utterly loses it. Thank God.” “She does seem more reserved than I remember. She’s probably still adjusting to having you join in. I think you were a big hit.” “Apparently. That’s good. I like her. She may be more deliberate than I sometimes want, but she’s a good person and has some good skills. “She also has a warm heart. I expect we’re helping her as much as she’s helping us.” “As it should be.” “Yes, as it should be.” **** Much later, in the wee hours of the next morning, Merry lay in Julie’s arms nearly overcome with satisfaction. She snuggled back against the redhead’s breasts. Julie’s pussy warmed Merry’s butt. Jim lay on the other side of Julie with his cock still buried in her pussy. She could feel him occasionally 198

The Merry Widow move, maintaining their connection. If Julie had wanted to be sandwiched between the two of them, she’d certainly gotten her wish more than once during the night. Merry breathed deeply. Contentment filled her nostrils. Dinner had been delicious and the conversation engaging. The Jacuzzi had been loads of fun with a lot of splashing and play. And the lovemaking had really been lovemaking. Julie had continued to open up under Jim’s skillful hands and her own. And Julie left her and Jim with a deeper appreciation for slowing down and appreciating the moment. She suspected that might have something to do with age. Julie was well into her fifties. Maybe she did know a little more about savoring. Merry allowed her eyes to close; then they popped wide open—she hadn’t howled once. Though she would appreciate being back in her own house where she could howl with the wolves, if she wanted to. **** “No more sex today,” Merry said, sitting on a kitchen stool, relishing Jim’s firm fingers massaging her shoulders. “This doesn’t feel the least bit erotic.” She sighed. “And even if it did, I don’t have an ounce of energy left to do anything about it.” She dropped her chin to her chest and let Jim work his magic. “It might take a week for me to recover,” Jim said. “That was mind-boggling. I lost track of who was doing what to whom.” “I have a much stronger libido in my early forties than I ever had in my twenties. Isn’t that wild? In my twenties, I probably thought people over forty had long since given up sex.” “So much for the wisdom of youth.” “You could work over my entire spine. That’s good. After this, I may soak in a bubble bath for at least an hour. Julie was more shy and reserved than I expected. I assumed she’d had 199

The Merry Widow experiences with threesomes that included a male. I should’ve asked directly.” “Given her history with abuse, it’s a little surprising she was willing at all. She must really trust you.” Merry smiled. “Oh, I think you intrigued her at the party. And I imagine she was fascinated with the idea of the three of us together. If Camille had been directing the show, we might’ve had more expertly choreographed and certainly more robust sex, but I liked this, for a change.” “I was a little surprised by how much Julie’s breasts sagged and how her waistline bulged. Made me a little less conscious of my abs or lack of them. They used to be washboard,” Jim said wistfully. “Now the ridges are filling in. Aging does matter. Julie is still a very attractive woman. But I was surprised.” “A woman who knows how to dress sharp can cover up a lot—that’s rather hard to do when you’re stark naked. And there’s nothing shoddy about your abs. They are rapidly becoming my favorite abs.” Jim pummeled his fists up and down her back. “Where did you learn to be an expert at massage? My muscles are melting.” He spun her around on the stool and began working on her temples, her scalp, even her nose. His movements didn’t tickle; they weren’t sexually charged. They simply soothed her aches. He stopped and stared at her, then started back on her shoulder. “You know, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed watching you making love with a woman.” “Thought you’d seen that before.” He scowled. “That was through binoculars. Without sound and certainly without feeling. It was incredible being in the same room with you. Moving, actually. Don’t misunderstand. I don’t want to be with you every time you make love with a woman.” “Thankfully.” 200

The Merry Widow “But I have a better understanding of what you mean when you say loving a woman and a man are like two different universes. They overlap but are unique. I’ve loved women all my life, but that’s still not the same. It’s hard to explain.” “It may be inexplicable.” Merry rotated her neck. “Watching you was fun, too. I must be more of a voyeur than I realized. I didn’t know if I’d ever stop creaming at the sight of you entering Julie’s ass. You might as well have been filling my ass. I felt every glorious move you made.” “There is something to be said for watching from time to time.” “And for being watched. I caught you several times fondling your cock when Julie and I were doing each other. Now that was a turn-on.” Jim knelt and massaged her feet, legs, and thighs, beginning with her toes. “You may have to carry me into that bubble bath.” Jim chuckled. “I can probably manage that.” “So what do you think, would you want to do it again?” “Do what?” “Jim! A threesome.” “Oh.” He pinched her thigh. “Hey.” “Maybe. It was better than I’d anticipated, particularly after that first nervous hour or so. But I wouldn’t want threesomes to get in the way of what we have. That’s paramount.” “I agree. Maybe it’s something we reserve for fun holidays like New Year’s and July Fourth.” “It would make for guaranteed fireworks.” “If we do it again, I might want to find someone with more experience.” “Find a room with more mirrors.” 201

The Merry Widow “I’ll do that. Okay, lover,” she said, wrapping her legs around his chest, “carry me to my bath. You can join me if you want, but no sex. Little beaver needs a rest.” “Poor little beaver. To your bath, my lady; your carriage awaits. You know you’re as light as a feather. How can you have so much good stuff in just the right places and be so light?” She giggled and kissed his neck. “Maybe I’m a hot air balloon, or one of those inflatable sex dolls.” “Not hardly. I can assure you of that.” “You’ve tried one?” “Never. Not my idea of sex.” She squeezed him tight as they neared the bathroom door. “You’re not what I thought a cop would be like.” “So much for stereotypes,” he said, standing her on the tile floor. He bent down pecked at her lips several times before releasing her. “Are you the typical CPA?” “I used to be.” “But not since you discovered sex.” “Something like that,” she said, pouting. “Are you going to join me?” “No, I’d better head back, take a shower, and think about work.” “Yes, that’s been hard to do lately. I really enjoyed the weekend,” she said, tipping up on her toes to kiss him again. “With you and Julie.” “Me, too. I’ll call you tomorrow, if not sooner.” **** “Why did you let Julie Simmons fuck your boy toy?” Merry held the phone away from her ear. Camille was as furious as she’d expected. “Because I like Julie, and she was willing.” “And you don’t like me. You know I was willing.” 202

The Merry Widow “And I explained why we didn’t want to include you in a threesome, Camille. You and I go back too far to risk our relationship.” “Relationship. I don’t know if I can talk to you again.” “I’ll come by Wednesday and talk this out.” “I’m busy Wednesday.” “Oh.” “Damn, Merry. I know how petulant that sounded.” Merry heard Camille sigh. “Okay, Wednesday. You’re right, we’ve gone through much worse than this. We can weather a little lover’s spat. So how was it with Julie?” “It was lovely. And I’m not giving you any more details than that.” “I can handle Julie all right if there are two or three other women, but alone she’s kind of slow.” “Cam! I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” “I’m counting on that. I may expect some penance from you.” “I’m sure you will. Bye.” Merry frowned at her computer. Penance? Neither she nor Camille was Catholic. What did they know about penance?

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Chapter 13 The following Friday, Merry glowed as she worked. She was floating. Could life get any better? Her Wednesday night penance session with Camille had been terrific. They were back on speaking terms and much more. She’d never thought of penance as being stimulating or fun. Maybe she should be more envious of her Catholic friends. And she’d never imagined such uses for a soft ping-pong paddle. Her butt still stung a bit. She hoped Camille’s did, too. She might have to buy one for Jim. Maybe two—his and hers. Happy. She typed the word happy into her word processor. She was happy. The business was going well. Her lovers seemed at last to be settling in. There were more sexual mysteries to unravel, and she was looking forward to all of them, even those she couldn’t name. When had she become so voracious sexually? She wasn’t about to apologize for her appetite, but it had come on suddenly. Why did it have to wait so long? Maybe this was her midlife crisis. What a delightful crisis. She had no doubt now that she’d be sexually active for as long as she lived. She’d been so pleased to see that a sixty-eightyear-old woman was part of Girls’ Night Out. And the woman was still in fairly good shape. Hopefully, her own workout routines and active sex life would keep her in good stead. The older woman had to use more lube, but that was no big sacrifice. 204

The Merry Widow Merry loved oils and lubes. They warmed her flesh and filled her nostrils with fragrance. And that was good. Yes, she was happy. The phone rang. “Hello.” “You’ve been a good girl, Mrs. Delaney.” Merry froze. It was the voice. “You’ve been so good that my associates would like to conduct a bit more business with you.” “I’m not interested.” She licked her lips. “Your interest is hardly relevant. We’re prepared to deposit ten thousand tax-free dollars into your bank account, Mrs. Delaney.” Merry gulped. Ten thousand dollars! “No. I can’t. I won’t take your money.” “Didn’t think you would. We still have some fascinating photos. I take them out now and then and admire them. You are a well-put-together young woman, Mrs. Delaney. Surprisingly inventive, I might add. We’re always on the lookout for inventive talent.” There was silence. “Yes, what do you want me to do?” “We need you to set up two new accounts. Money will come from Fire and Ice and from another of our interests: Alberto’s Machine Shop. We want the accounts ironclad, totally secure from snoops. If anyone discovers them, they’ll only find your fingerprints, not ours. Understood?” “Understood.” “Good. I see you must still be fucking that St. Jermaine woman and the detective. At least you’ve learned to pull the shades and shut the blinds.” She heard his dry laugh. “You’re a wonder, Mrs. Delaney. We figure if you can keep secrets from your lovers, you should be able to manage our little secret. Bye, Mrs. Delaney. Don’t fuck your brains out. We need you to 205

The Merry Widow maintain these accounts. They need to be up and running within forty-eight hours.” “They’ll be operational. Don’t worry.” “Oh, I’m not the worrying type, Mrs. Delaney. I’m counting on you to do all the necessary worrying. Ciao.” Merry hung up the phone and deleted the word happy from her computer screen. She’d been so caught up in her loves she’d nearly forgotten the mob. She settled back in her chair. This time, don’t panic, girl. She reached for the phone to call Jim. No. What if they’d tapped her phones again? Stay calm. Get in your car and go to a payphone. Merry drove toward her neighborhood grocery store. She knew there was a payphone there. She hesitated. What if she was being followed? She turned the corner and headed to her daughter’s catering shop. That shouldn’t raise any suspicions. She dropped in there often. Actually, more often before Camille and Jim, but often enough. **** She entered the shop and waved at Alice Maxwell behind the desk. “Your daughter is out presenting a client estimate.” “That’s okay. Can I borrow the phone for a minute? I need to make a call, and my cell phone died.” “No problem.” Alice handed her the phone. Merry punched in the numbers from memory. Jim picked up on the second ring. Thankfully, he was home. “Hello,” he said. “Hi.” “What’s wrong? Your voice is shaking.” “He called again.” It only took Jim a second or two to process the import of her truncated message. “Okay. Where are you calling from?” 206

The Merry Widow “Tiffany’s shop. I didn’t want to use the house phone or the cell.” “Good. You’re getting into this cop stuff. I’ll come by this evening. If I rush right over, that’d raise suspicion, assuming anyone is watching.” “That makes sense. Plan on staying the night.” “It’s only Friday.” “Don’t give me that shit now, Jim. I made the rule and I’m breaking it. I’m going to need you with me tonight. I don’t care what day of the week it is. I may even need something stiffer than wine.” Jim laughed. “I can provide stiff, okay. I’ll bring along some whiskey. Is that all right? Relax, Merry. You’re not in danger yet.” “Right. Later.” “Thanks,” she said, handing the phone back to Alice. “Yet,” she mumbled to herself, walking toward her car. You’re not in danger yet. So why was she shaking like a leaf in a hailstorm? **** Jim poured an inch of whiskey into Merry’s ice-filled tumbler. She sipped the liquid. It burned all the way down her throat, and she took another sip. Her body warmed. She smiled at Jim sitting on the couch beside her. “Thanks for bringing this. I seldom drink hard liquor, but when I do it’s either whiskey or tequila. This will help some. Having you here helps more.” “No one can accuse you of being a two-fisted drinker, but there are occasions when touching the hard stuff permits a person to sit back and find a new perspective.” “If you say so.” “So did this guy say anything about work beyond setting up these two accounts?” 207

The Merry Widow “Nothing. But we both know he’ll be back. They’ll keep coming back for more until I can figure out how to ditch them.” “We, Merry. You’re hardly in this alone, and I do feel badly that I got you into this.” Merry sipped more of her drink. “Well, that’s something, I guess.” “Can you tell me anything about this guy? Age. Accent. Anything.” “He must be fairly old. He called me a young woman. And he knows what I look like. So he must be old.” Merry slurred the word old, but didn’t attempt to correct herself. She held her glass out for more. Jim frowned at her but poured the whiskey. She closed her eyes. Damn, she was beginning to feel warm at last. Drowsy, even. Jim patted her thigh. “Take it easy. You’re not used to this stuff.” “I’m okay,” she said, lifting the glass to her lips. “Can you believe that bastard said he pulls out my pictures now and then to admire my body?” “Maybe he has better taste in women than you think.” “Right. He’s probably jerking off over my pictures. If he can even get hard.” Jim laughed. “That could be the curse of the Merry Widow. Cross the Merry Widow and you’ll never get another hard-on.” “Oh, I like that. A lot.” Merry drained her glass. She looked at Jim. When had he become two Jims? Two guys and her could be interesting. She’d have to tell Jim that—but which one? **** Jim picked Merry up off the couch and carried her into her bedroom. Undressing her was not an easy task with her flopping about like dead weight and muttering something about group sex. He slipped a nightshirt over her head and tucked her under 208

The Merry Widow the sheet. She snored noisily. He shook his head and returned to the living-room couch. After pouring himself a healthy glass of whiskey and swigging some down, he coughed and shook his head. Damn, he’d forgotten how potent that stuff could be. He stared at the dark fireplace. What was he going to do with Merry? How could he get her out of this mess? The mob had their teeth in her, and he knew how tenacious they could be. And he was the cause. He’d had big ideas about cracking this little action the boys had going, and then he’d become smitten by the woman. Christ, he’d been obsessed with her. Maybe he still was. It was his responsibility to protect her, to get her unhooked from the mob. He was a cop with a lot of experience with organized crime. Right. So why had he gotten Merry so deeply involved? The damn case wasn’t supposed to blow up in their faces the way it had. So, old wise cop, think. He weighed scenario after scenario. Nothing got her out the cycle. Even if they nailed some of the small fish, there’d be others who would know about Merry and that she was vulnerable to blackmail. Blackmail! Jim slammed his head with his palm. Why was he so fucking dense? Why had it taken him so long to figure it out? It was so simple. He grinned broadly and lifted his glass in a toast toward the bedroom and its sleeping occupant. He drank deeply, relishing the hot liquid that warmed his toes. Yes, there was a way out, but the Merry Widow wasn’t going to like it one bit. **** Closing her eyes, Merry swallowed coffee from the second steaming cup Jim had delivered to her bed—that, and two aspirin. She could feel her eyes still drooping, but at least this morning there was only one Jim. She watched him walk around 209

The Merry Widow the bed with his cup of coffee and join her. She should probably explain her behavior, if she could. “I bet I haven’t been drunk more than twice in my life. But I know no man ever carried me to bed and tucked me in like you must have.” Chuckling, Jim said, “Good guess. You weren’t very cooperative, but I got the job done.” “Thanks. I don’t know what I would’ve done last night without you, or why I thought it necessary to get drunk.” “Doubt you thought that through much. Probably your body acknowledged more fear than you were allowing to surface. You took a lot of calm steps yesterday. You didn’t panic. I’ve checked the phones. No one’s tapping your conversations. I don’t know enough about computers to see whether your security has been breached. You’ll have to do that, but I doubt it has.” “Why do you say that?” She set the empty coffee mug on the nightstand and hugged Jim, laying her head on his chest. His heart was pounding a calm, steady beat. When would hers do the same? “They’re confident you have no wiggle room. You’re hooked. They just have to reel you in now and then to give you a new assignment. As long as they have the photos, they have you—or so the assumption goes.” Merry arched her neck, welcoming his strong fingers as they worked their magic. “So how do we get the photos back?” “We don’t.” Merry climbed to her knees. She didn’t like Jim’s smug look. “We don’t?” “Actually, we can’t. No matter what you do or what they say, you’ll never know if you have all the pictures.” “I’ve worried about that.” “I’m sure you have—but that, Merry Widow, is precisely what you must stop doing.” 210

The Merry Widow Merry folded her arms. “Okay, I’m a novice at this cloakand-dagger stuff. Explain yourself.” “You have to know we’re dealing with professionals. They may not share our values and views of the ideal world, but they are professionals.” “Okay, I can accept that.” “They could embarrass you—both of us—with those pictures, but that might also piss off some of your other clients—some of whom may also be trying to hide connections with the underworld. Publicity is not a good thing for the mob unless they are getting more out of it than they stand to lose.” “So what does that have to do with me?” “Everybody in this game understands—may not approve or appreciate—but understands when the mob takes certain actions for gain, usually monetary gain. However, the mob can’t be too vindictive. In this instance, they can only push you so far. They can’t afford to be seen as picking on a poor, helpless widow woman.” “I’m not that!” “Yes, I’m totally aware you’re not, and so is the guy calling you with orders, but they know if this ever hits the press— which they’re counting on you fearing the most—then we get to help shape the story, and the mob seldom comes out looking good in the press. And I have a friend who works for the Trib.” “Wow. So we’re supposed to thumb our noses at them?” “I don’t see any other way. But they have to know you are not vulnerable to blackmail.” “That seems like a huge risk.” “If you play the game by their rules, the game has no ending.” Merry nodded. “Yes, I can see that. So we thumb our noses at them. What an audacious plan, Detective Barnes. You’re proving to be quite handy to have around.” 211

The Merry Widow “Hopefully, you’ll still think that in a few minutes.” “Now what do you mean by that?” “You can’t just call the mob up and tell them you’re not vulnerable. They wouldn’t believe you even if you tried. We have to demonstrate that what they’re holding over you has no clout. Then it has no value for them.” “And? Lay it out clear and simple.” Jim smirked. “I’d be happy to. The key is in this guy’s conversation with you. We open the blinds and raise the shades and fuck our brains out.” Merry tilted her head to the side and considered Jim’s words. A tiny smile turned into a huge smile. She tapped Jim’s chest. “You may be a genius. That might work. If they see us fucking, they’ll figure out we don’t give a damn about the photos and that they have no power over me. Wow! This could be fun yet.” She frowned. “So what’s the hitch?” “We don’t know when they have a guy watching you. Probably not during daylight hours.” “Not unless he’s the gardener.” “I think you proved once that the gardener isn’t paying much attention to you.” Merry winced. “That’s true. But you were so menacing, telling me I might get stung by a bee. So what am I supposed to be so upset about? I can’t imagine much that’s more enjoyable than making love.” “I hope you can’t. Merry, I’m going to have to be around much more.” “Ah. This has to be a nightly escapade, because we don’t know what night someone is out in the bushes watching.” “Precisely. So I need to move in.” “What?” Merry leapt of the bed. “Move in!” She walked to the end of the bed and whirled at him. “Is this some crazy-ass 212

The Merry Widow scheme for you to wedge your way further into my life? I’m not ready for that.” “Thought you might wonder about that. No, it’s not. Frankly, though, I do regard it as a side benefit.” “Side benefit. So how long would you have to be here?” “I don’t know. A month, maybe two or three, I’d guess.” “God,” Merry buried her face in her hands, “that’d almost make us married.” “A fate worse than death.” “A fate I’m not willing to consider. Two to three months?” “They’ll need to discover a pattern. We don’t know if they check up on you once a week or more often. I expect it’s at least once a week. They’ve got an investment to protect.” “And how will we know this harebrained scheme will work?” “They’ll let you know somehow. You may find the money coming into the two accounts you’re setting up simply ceases. That’s my best guess on how they’ll go about dumping you. I doubt you’ll get a direct call telling you you’ve won.” “So I set up the accounts as if I have no problem with working with them.” “Absolutely. And we weren’t even looking at a connection between Alfredo’s Machine Shop and the mob. So we’ve gained something out of all of this. So what do you think?” “I think it’s a crackpot plan. But it may be the only thing with any chance of working. And I don’t have a hell of a lot of choice.” She narrowed her eyes. “Let’s get a few things straight.” “Okay.” “Wednesday night is my Girls’ Night Out. You don’t interfere with that in any way, shape or form. You don’t quiz me about it, whether I come home Wednesday night or Thursday morning. You don’t even look down your nose at it. Agreed?” 213

The Merry Widow “Of course. I’m comfortable with that. How about the shades at Camille’s?” “Not a problem. I’m the only one who pulls them anyway. Fine. You only move clothes. No hardware. No stereo, TV, favorite chairs. Agreed?” “Sounds okay. I assume no hardware doesn’t mean excluding my guns.” “Right. I hadn’t thought about that. We’re not talking about a gun collection.” “Nope. Service revolver and two backups.” “Bring them. And you’ll pull your weight around here. I’m not running a bed and breakfast. Can you cook?” “Some.” “We’ll work out a schedule. You can help with cleaning the house. I’m not doing your laundry. You can use my washer and dryer if you want.” She scrunched her mouth. This was her only option, but she had to protect herself the best she could—from the man lying on her bed. How could she spend two to three months with him? Would their relationship survive? Would she survive? “That’s it. I can’t think of anything else at the moment. But I claim the right to change the conditions as we go. Do you have anything to add?” “I think you’ve about covered it. I’ll be in by tonight.” Merry shivered. “Okay. Could I ask you to hold me, Jim? This is huge.” She found a comfortable spot in the crook of his arm. “We’ll get you out of the clutches of the mob, Merry. You can count on that.” “Oh, it’s not their clutches I’m worrying about any longer.” “Don’t worry too hard.” “I’ll try not to.” She leaned over and kissed his chin. “Do you think we should begin freeing me from the mob?” 214

The Merry Widow “Don’t be in a hurry. We may need to conserve our strength for the long haul. Can you wait until nightfall?” “If I must. I hadn’t thought about stamina. I may feel my age before this is done.” She nibbled on Jim’s ear and enjoyed the sight of his obvious arousal. She cupped his cock. “Till tonight. You should probably know I’m not totally upset and angry. Your moving in, even in a temporary fashion, scares the bejeebers out of me. But I do plan on enjoying having a cock around full-time, especially yours.” “I’m glad I won’t be a total hardship.” “Sounds to me like you’ll be hard a lot.” **** “The blinds are open, so let the fun begin.” Merry yanked back the bed covers, crawled in, and nestled against Jim, who tucked her against him with his arm. “You sound a little nervous,” he said. “It’s not like the guy hasn’t seen you before.” Merry placed a kiss on Jim’s chest. “This feels different. I don’t want to have to perform for the creep, but I also want him to go away very frustrated.” “Maybe it’s a woman.” “Doesn’t matter. I want whoever is watching us to go away frustrated.” “So this is different from when I was outside watching?” In the mirror, she saw his hand skimming his cock and grinned up at him. “Absolutely. Then, I knew who was out there, and I was toying with enticing you into my bed. I learned how to seduce my own man.” Absently, she toyed with her pussy lips. “It worked, didn’t it?” “It sure did. And here I am, doing my best to keep you satisfied and out of the clutches of the bad guys.” “Maybe we should concentrate more on the latter for a moment.” 215

The Merry Widow “Do you have something in mind?” “This initial effort of your live-in escapade should be creative and entertaining visually, don’t you think? Why don’t we try the chair?” She escorted Jim to the overstuffed chair near the door. Once he was settled, she turned and faced the large patio windows and backed onto his lap. She grabbed his cock, slid her hand up its length, and ran her thumb over its soft cap. She chuckled at Jim’s gasp. “This should offer whoever is out there a more than adequate view.” “Ringside seat, I would think.” “Better view than any I gave you.” “Uh huh. Maybe we should forget about the observer and think more about us.” “Oh,” she cooed, “is Big Boy getting impatient?” “Let’s just say he’s camera shy and needs a place to hide.” “And I know just where to tuck him away.” She rose and then settled, easily taking him into her chamber. She wiggled her bottom and rested. “Is that better? Does he feel safer now?” “Much.” She felt Jim’s lips grazing her neck and his hands fondling her breasts. She went limp, tantalized by his soft touch. He pulled on her nipples, reminding her of what they were about. She smiled at their reflection in the mirror. If the watcher was enjoying this half as much as she was, she should charge a voyeur fee. She was full and nearly ready. Jim’s lips kept up a steady search along her neck for erotic buttons. His hands covered her breasts and waited. His hips flexed almost imperceptibly, encouraging her. She lowered a hand to their joining and palmed her pussy. She could feel his cock beneath her hand, primed and impatient. 216

The Merry Widow Smiling, Merry steadied herself on the arms of the chair. She raised herself on the balls of her feet and retreated partway back, squeezing the upper half of Jim’s cock. She glanced at his contorted features in the mirror. He was closer than she was and that was fine. She’d catch up quickly if she must. She paused at the top of a stroke to feather her clit. “Don’t stop,” he muttered. “Don’t worry. I’m not stopping. There’s no intermission in this play; I’m just priming for the finale.” “I’m more than primed.” “So I’ve noticed. I can still feel you expanding.” She leaned over slightly, trying a different angle, and increased the pressure on her clitoris. “Little beaver is definitely coming along.” She lowered herself all the way. “There. Your cock must’ve found an internal button, because it’s starting.” She pumped at a faster pace. “Come on, Big Boy, don’t hold back.” “Who’s holding back?” His hips lurched off the chair to smack her rear on the downstroke, propelling her on to the next one. His hands cupped her bottom, giving her a stronger base. She closed her eyes and focused on the delightful warmth spreading throughout her body. She maintained a steady pace. Her clit throbbed between her fingers. His hand shifted on a butt cheek until she felt his thumb rimming her anus. She shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. He spurted profusely, as if she could use his cum to glue herself back together. She collapsed into his arms, dropped her head to one side, and chewed on her bottom lip, comforted by his strength. Cranking an eye open, Merry smiled at Jim in the mirror. He was watching with a mixture of pride and passion. They did look good together. They made a good team. “So do you think the picture guy got an eyeful?” “Oh yeah, if he’s out there and still breathing, he definitely got an eyeful.” 217

The Merry Widow Merry yawned and snuggled closer. “I hope I don’t get a call tomorrow. Certainly once wouldn’t be enough for the mob.” Jim chuckled. “I can almost guarantee that won’t happen. And I can certainly guarantee that once wasn’t enough for them or us.” “Guess we have a lot of nights in front of us. Maybe we’d better get some sleep.” She was nearly asleep before Jim carried her to bed. “Don’t forget to turn off the lights,” she mumbled.

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Chapter 14 Two weeks later, Jim sat in an easy chair in Merry’s living room, reading a book on colonial history, a topic that had long interested him. He flipped a page and looked up to see Merry strolling in from the outside with a large shopping bag in her arms. He thought he’d taken care of groceries for the week— that was one of the tasks he was helping with. “Follow me,” she said. “Wait until you see what I bought us.” He followed her to the bedroom, where she dumped the bag upside down. He tried in vain to hide his shock. He’d never seen so many sex toys, plus at least half a dozen books. He checked out the book titles. They were all about sexual arts and techniques. Has Merry finally gone bonkers? He recognized several vibrators he’d seen in ads. But there were toys he couldn’t name, and he had only the vaguest notion of where they might fit. Merry stood by his side, clearly waiting for him to respond. She radiated pride. Jim cleared his throat. “What—what is this all about, Merry?” “Don’t sound so accusing.” She pouted. “If we’re going to last for another ten weeks or so, I thought we’d better get some assistance.” “I thought we were doing fine. Haven’t you been satisfied?” Merry beamed him a smile. “Oh, I’ve been satisfied. I’m not concerned about the past. I’m worried about the future. At 219

The Merry Widow this rate, we’ll be in such a rut when this escapade is finished, we won’t want to have anything to do with each other ever again.” Grimacing, he tried to follow her logic. “So all of this is supposed to spice up our love life? Give us longevity?” “Help us with longevity. These are only aids. It’s up to us to take advantage of them or ignore them.” He picked up a book and began paging through it. Not much was left to the imagination. He stopped to examine a picture more closely. It showed a man and woman engaged in what he supposed was carnal bliss—how the hell did they entangle their arms in such a way? And how did they manage to get untangled? “Like anything you see?” “Keep in mind I’m not as young as these models.” “Don’t worry, there’s no way I could contort into all of those positions either. But I think these books could help us get through this.” “Maybe.” “Jim, you know as well as I do that routine is the death knell of any relationship—maybe even more so of sexual relationships. It’s not a slap in our faces to recognize we might not have thought of something or that we could benefit from sex toys. You still look doubtful.” “You sure do manage to stretch me. I guess I was pretty much a meat and potatoes guy when it comes to sex until I hooked up with you.” He smiled at her giggling response. “And you’re enjoying stretching me,” he added. He sighed. “We are trying to maintain a Herculean pace for our ages.” “For me, this would’ve been Herculean at any age. Are you willing to try? We have to work together on this. I can’t do it alone.” “No, I’m game. What the hell? How do you want to begin?” 220

The Merry Widow “It’s certainly dark enough outside to begin right now.” He watched her pause to think. If she thought this would help them get through their so-called escapade, then it should help their long-run chances. Yeah, he was willing to try. He sure hoped there wasn’t another cop out there looking in. He peered over Merry’s shoulder as she looked at a variety of pictures. “A lot of these we already do,” she said. “I love the one when you hold my ass with your arms and thighs. We’ll definitely want to try the armchair. Oh, look at this, Jim. It’s called the Amazon.” “That seems like an obvious choice,” he said with sarcasm. “Do you think we can manage that?” “I don’t know why not. Looks like most of the work is up to me. Let me select a vibrator. We can’t just hop into the Amazon.” “Of course not.” “Come on, Jim. A little more enthusiasm can go a long ways.” She pulled her t-shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra, setting her breasts free. Yeah, he could manage. If she wanted to do the Amazon, they’d do the Amazon. But a vibrator! Isn’t that for sissies? She slowly worked her jeans over her hips and wiggled out of them. She was teasing him, and it was having the desired effect. He reached for his buckle. Not waiting for him, Merry picked up a pink vibrator and lay back on the bed. He smacked his lips, watching her run the vibrator down her neck, over one breast and under the other. Her eyes stayed riveted on his. The vibrator traveled directly to her bald pussy. He stopped breathing. The vibrator eased down one side of her pussy and back up the other. It traveled to that in-between place dividing her pussy and her anus. Her eyes remained locked on his as she guided the vibrator to her pussy 221

The Merry Widow lips, separated them and pushed the vibrator in an inch or two. She played with its dial. He swore the hum was louder. She giggled; her eyes sparkled with passion. “Are you going to let me have all the fun? Or are you going to join in?” Jim yanked himself out of his trance. What a sexpot! He hurried to join her. He stretched his full length beside her and propped his head so he could stare at what she was doing. Her breath was shortening. “Give me a moment,” she said. “I hadn’t expected this. It’s small, but worth accepting.” With eyes wide open, he watched her maneuver the vibrator like he’d seen people work a surfboard, this way and that way, milking every little wave. She closed her eyes, and he waited. She turned to him, met his gaze, and smiled. “That was nice. Some of the best experiences are unexpected. I’m glad you decided to join me. Have you ever used a vibrator, either on a woman or yourself?” “Never. I never thought they were needed.” “You’re in for a treat or two. It’s not that they’re required, but they can enhance erotic play.” “Maybe I didn’t know sex could be so playful until I met you.” “I’m still learning. Let me show you. Lie on your back. I’ll take this blue vibrator and turn it on like so. Let’s try your nipples. Look, I haven’t even touched them and they’re pebbling.” Jim tried to stay within his skin while Merry played. He loved watching her take such delight in pleasuring him. She moved to his cock and to his balls. He couldn’t determine what was vibrating more—the vibrator or his cock. She left the vibrator at the base of his shaft and lowered her mouth. She 222

The Merry Widow winked and bobbed up and down several times before releasing him. “My mouth was vibrating. Did you know that?” “Figured it, the way you were behaving. Jesus, Merry.” She’d run that damn vibrator down to his ass. It wasn’t totally uncomfortable. He hadn’t expected her to do that. She moved it back up toward his weaving cock and turned it off. “Before our weeks together are up, we’ll have that vibrator in your ass. I’m told a guy’s cock really vibrates in a woman’s mouth when she has a vibe up his ass.” He winced. “Who told you that?” “Not telling. But right now I want to try that Amazon position.” She reached for the book and reviewed the picture for a moment. “If you bring your knees to your chest, I can get in position.” He tucked his knees to his chest and watched Merry straddle him. She levered herself astride his cock and rested his legs across her thighs. She grasped his hands for added stability and balance. Not bad. Not as uncomfortable as some of those other positions must be. With a face filled with concentration, Merry tentatively raised and lowered her body in her sitting position. It was a position that promoted deep penetration. He couldn’t see their joining easily, but all he needed to know was the look in her eyes. She was enjoying this immensely. She was the one doing all of the work; he could lie there all night like that. Whoa, maybe not! She’d just begun to hammer her butt against his groin. She sucked on her lower lip. Not stopping, not pausing, she raced toward completion. He was gathering to match her. This had better satisfy her for tonight, or he was going to be one drained puppy by the time she was done with him. 223

The Merry Widow She gave him a quick smile of acknowledgement. It was happening for her, too. She never varied the angle a fraction; she rode him even after he’d spurted his joy. She squeezed his hands tight and shouted, “I’m an Amazon woman. I’m over the edge. I’m gone.” With more sensitivity than he expected her to be able to muster, she eased out of the Amazon position until her supine body covered his. Maybe her shopping spree hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. There was no way they could work through all the positions in the half a dozen books during his live-in stay. Her hot breath engulfing a nipple stirred him again. She giggled. “Don’t worry. If we exhaust all of these positions, I saw some videos that might be helpful. Some are specifically made for people over forty.” “If you think we need them, I’m sure you’ll bring them home.” “You laugh.” She raised her head and looked at him sharply. “I’m not going to grow old without sex. Think about it, Detective Barnes.” He ran a palm over her rump. “I’ll do everything I can, Merry Widow, to keep up with you.” “Good. I’m counting on it.” She rested her head against his pounding heart. “Do you suppose we’re being watched right now?” “Difficult to say.” “If I knew he was out there, I’d turn and smile at the camera.” He chuckled. “Not a good idea.” “No, I suppose not.” She sighed; her lips brushed across his chest. “It was much more exciting wondering if you were out there watching me than it is wondering if some creep is out there watching us.” 224

The Merry Widow “Maybe you’d feel better if you remember we’re having a hell of a lot more fun in here than that guy trying to stay awake and warm without going bonkers over what he’s observing.” “I wouldn’t know about that, but I guess you would.” “It goes with the job.” **** Two more weeks went by. Jim checked his watch and looked over at Merry sitting on the couch reading a magazine. “Isn’t this Wednesday night?” “It is.” “I thought you had a standing date.” She shook her head. “Playing sex games for our photographer friend is starting to wear me out. I told Camille I’m only doing Girls’ Night Out once or twice a month.” He knew he’d failed to keep his face expressionless as soon as her eyebrows arched. “Don’t think I’m doing this because of you. This is a temporary slowdown.” She shrugged. “I hadn’t realized how strenuous sex could be.” “Those sex toys take some of the pressure off. Don’t even have to climax for them to make a good picture. Not that I’ve noticed you skipping any orgasms.” She smiled easily. “Not sure I could do that if I wanted to. Though finding more variety for oral sex is saving my pussy some.” “Sorry I’m so hard on it.” “It’s best when you’re hard in it, but you know what I mean.” “Maybe we’ll have to leave the house some weekend for a hotel so we can catch up on rest.” “It’s not that bad for me yet. How about you?” “I’m doing okay.” “I wouldn’t want to lose my man to limp-dick syndrome.” 225

The Merry Widow “Guess if you were wondering whether I could stay the course with you, I must be holding up my end.” “I’ve no complaints. And you’ve become even more adventurous since I went shopping. What chapter are we up to now?” “I believe it’s chapter ten, book four.” “Given the overlap in some of these books—a couple of them were rip-offs saying the same thing and using the same pictures that others did—I may have to go buy those videos yet.” “Don’t rush.” **** Merry scowled at her computer. She tucked her robe closer around herself to keep the early-morning chill at bay. Jim hadn’t awakened yet. It being his day off, she wasn’t going to disturb him. She’d spent nearly half an hour tracking the flow of money in and out of the two accounts she’d set up for the mob. They were still pumping money through them. When were the creeps going to get the message? She was no longer under their thumb. What if they weren’t even watching? It had been eight weeks now. Nothing. No response. No contact. “A penny for your thoughts.” Jim stood in the doorway with the terrycloth robe tied snugly at his waist. Merry smiled thoughtfully at him. He looked so masculine, so virile early in the morning. She saved her accounting program and greeted him with a hug. He was still warm from the bed. “I want to show you something.” “Okay. Good morning. Are you troubled? You look pensive.” “No.” She led him into the kitchen. They each filled a cup with coffee, and then she led him toward the stairs. **** Jim admired her rump rising and falling as Merry climbed the stairs ahead of him. She held his hand in hers against her 226

The Merry Widow lower back. He hadn’t been in the upstairs of her house. He could’ve explored it any number of times when she was out, but he hadn’t wanted to invade her privacy like that. They paused in front of a closed door. Merry inhaled before twisting the doorknob. It was the master bedroom. This used to be her bedroom. He’d watched her up here before she’d moved her bedroom to the solarium. It was spacious, with a bathroom off one corner. The furniture was oak. The dark browns and blues formed a sturdy color scheme. The room wasn’t nearly as bright and cheerful as the solarium. “I need you to see this space, Jim. It was the bedroom I shared with Daniel until he became so ill he wanted his own space. We set up a smaller bedroom down the hall for him. At first, I resisted. It didn’t feel right not sleeping in the same room as my husband. Then this room became a sanctuary from the pain and from,” her voice faltered, “his rage.” She walked over to the windows and opened the curtain. The room brightened a little, but the day was gray; light rain pattered against the windows. “I’ve always enjoyed the view of the gardens from up here—more panoramic.” She smiled wistfully. “But in the solarium I feel as if I’m part of the gardens. The rain is pleasant this morning.” She cracked a window open. “I love the sound of rain—so soothing.” Jim stood behind her. She leaned back against him and gathered his arms about her. It wasn’t necessary for him to comment. Merry was doing what she needed to do. He could only imagine the ghosts filling the room for her. Wasn’t it her daughter who’d advised her to move downstairs? He rested his chin on her head and waited. “This room holds a lot of memories, Jim. Some good ones. Some very lonely ones. Some laughter and a lot of tears. I know Daniel moved on long ago, but there were times when I felt his presence still chastising me for a longing I never had a name for 227

The Merry Widow until recently. Perhaps he was much more aware than I of my level of sexual need. If so, he did little to help satisfy that need.” She turned in Jim’s arms and faced him. Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been truly loved in this room, Jim. I need you to love me.” He kissed her forehead. “You’ve already been loved in this room, Merry, from the moment we stepped through the doorway.” She nodded, did not move to stanch the tears, and led him by the hand toward the bed. She pulled back the covers. The sheets were faintly musty, but he didn’t figure that much mattered to either of them. She slipped off her robe, and he did likewise. “Just hold me for a while.” She faced away from him, and he clutched her to his body. Her flesh warmed his; he hoped his was warming hers. Her shoulders trembled. Her tears wet his arm. They lay there for several minutes before her sobbing stopped. “You’re such a patient man,” she said. “You read my moods so well. What did I ever do to deserve you?” He kissed her hair. “It’s because you’re not afraid of being yourself, of being the Merry Widow.” She placed his hands on her breasts. “Cup them. Just hold them, please. That’s nice.” She let out a small laugh. “I used to spend hours up here reading those novels, trying to imagine what it would feel like to be held this way.” “And?” “Luscious. Toasty. Cozy. Whole.” She laced her fingers through his and lowered their entwined fingers to her mound. She sighed deeply. “This is so right.” Hands and mound generated their own kind of heat. Fingers did not move. Yet the heat poured out of her pussy. 228

The Merry Widow “You’re always so hot,” he whispered. “So ready for loving.” “How about you?” She left his hand on her pussy and reached between her legs for him. Her fingers curled around his cock and placed him at her entrance. She wiggled her butt in invitation. He pushed forward slowly, joining them as if for the first time. She laid her hand over her pussy and said, “Love me, Jim. Love me.” He fought his own tears. Where did those come from? Slowly he moved in and out of her body, loving her with each stroke. Her inner muscles tightened around him—holding him, drawing him out of himself. He dipped his head and kissed her neck. Like a swan, she arched her neck for him. “So special,” she mumbled. “I don’t need fireworks, Jim. Just come in me. Don’t send me away empty.” Jim choked back emotion and concentrated on filling her. The steady pace was sufficient. He could feel his cum easing out and joining her juices deep inside. He wasn’t sure he’d heard Merry purr before. She clenched him and held on tight, riding her own small waves of delight. She settled. He didn’t want to let her go. She didn’t make a move to leave. He thought she’d dozed off when she said, “You’re right, I’ve truly been loved in this room. Thank you.” He couldn’t respond with words. He hugged her tighter. Would she ever accept his loving without saying thank you? **** “I’m envious, Mom.” “You’re kidding—of me?” Tiffany smiled. “You have it all, and I am immensely happy for you. I just wish I had a man that loved me as Jim loves you. Or maybe a Camille. A much younger Jim or Camille, mind you.” 229

The Merry Widow “Yes, of course. You’ve been a tremendous help in all of this, you know.” Merry frowned. “I’m not sure any of this would have happened if you hadn’t kicked me in the butt.” “I believe it’s a tattoo on your butt, Mom.” Merry tried not to blush. “Yes, well. The notion of turning the solarium into my bedroom was pure genius. You have such talent with colors. And you envision redecorated rooms long before I can even begin to imagine them.” “I’m glad I could help, Mom.” “I’m on a roll here, Tiff, don’t interrupt.” “Okay.” “I’ll treasure the crystal chrysalis forever. Whatever prompted that concept?” “That’s easy. The way your face lights up when you’ve made a decision. You may take longer to deliberate than I like, but once you decide something, you embrace it fully and go after it. That’s what I imagine that butterfly is doing.” “So you’re tiring of revolving-door relationships.” “Absolutely. I want something that’ll last more than a night or even a month or two. Maybe a relationship where we can celebrate holidays and birthdays because we’ll be together that long.” Tiffany tilted her head to the side. “Now, don’t get your hopes up, I’m not talking about a husband and babies. Not yet.” “You have time, Tiff. I’m going to enjoy being a grandmother, but find the right man and then love him with all your heart and soul—and be certain he loves you just as deeply.” “I will, Mom. See, you do have some useful pearls of wisdom to add to these mother-daughter conversations.” Merry hugged her daughter. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do.” **** Two day later, Merry scurried about her office refiling files and cleaning up after a fairly extensive work day. That was good. She needed to complete some tasks to keep her clients happy. 230

The Merry Widow One thing about her accounting practice, there were lots of deadlines. Sometimes too many. She sat down at the computer and typed in more data entries. She bit her lip. She’d been quite good at blocking her latest conversation with Tiffany from her mind, but it wanted to sneak in around the edges at times. Like right now. She was the good one with advice. Find the right man and hold on to him. That might not have been her exact words, but close enough. Did she really want a man? She knew now she didn’t need one to be happy and fulfilled, not even sexually fulfilled. But did she want one? Merry scowled at her computer screen. She had one. But was she going to keep him? Yes, Jim would have to stay longer. She grinned. Having him around on a full-time basis had worked out quite fine— exceptional, actually. He’d proven fun to be around. She could almost imagine him staying, if he wouldn’t gloat about it. He hadn’t impinged on her space. She went to Girls’ Night Out about every other week. If she came home that night, he simply rolled over and hauled her in close to his body. He never tried to change her mind. He seemed to accept the notion that he was involved with a woman who also enjoyed loving women. Could she really imagine many men adjusting to that? No one came to mind. They’d managed to go out to a few plays, the symphony once. He’d gotten tickets for the Bulls—that had been much more his thing than hers. And he was working on tickets for the Bears; that would be exciting. They’d been to Arlington Park. She’d done well betting the horses; she knew she’d embarrassed Jim immensely by jumping up and down screaming at her horse and then waving her two-dollar winning ticket about. But he didn’t toss her out of bed for it.

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The Merry Widow Camille wasn’t thrilled that he’d moved in, but there was no way she could tell her friend why that was necessary. She was adjusting. If nothing else, Camille was an expert at adjusting. Tiffany, on the other hand, was in love with Jim. She was thrilled he’d moved into the house. She thought he made the perfect paramour for her mother. Tiff would be greatly disappointed when Jim moved back to his apartment. Merry double-checked the computer clock. He’d be home soon. She’d been thinking about this meal for at least a couple of days now. It had been simmering all afternoon. It was time to set Jim’s table. **** Once prepared, Merry didn’t have long to wait. “Merry, I’m home,” he called. “I’m in the kitchen. I saved you supper.” “You didn’t have to do that. I caught fast food at the sta—” She’d love to have a camera. Maybe if there was a guy out in the bushes he’d share his photos. A video camera would be even better. She lay on the kitchen island wearing only an ankle bracelet and the tattoo. She faced the hall doorway, where Jim stood speechless. She adjusted the rabbit vibrator slightly without taking her eyes from his. “I’ve got the rabbit on for dinner. Thought you might like to share.” She wiggled the main vibrator in her pussy and checked the position of the small attachment in her ass, then smiled when he focused on the butterfly wings caressing her clit. She did everything humanly possible not to come. That was a lot to ask. “How did you know it was me? It might have been Tiffany.” “I called her office today. She’s out of town at a convention. And she’s gotten used to not using her house key unless she knows we’re definitely gone. I hope you’ve enjoyed the view— I’ve got to turn this off. I’m saving myself for you.” 232

The Merry Widow She set the rabbit aside. “Are you going to eat? Or do I have to wrap supper up and put it away?” “Oh, don’t do that,” he growled. “It takes a minute to change gears.” He loosened his tie before bending over her pussy. “Ah, that’s more like it, Detective.” She watched his head shift from side to side. He was lavishing her pussy with butterfly kisses of love. Did he know she was his love offering? She expected he did. She cupped his ears in her hands. She arched her back, asking for more. He shoved a finger in her pussy to wet it and then he pushed it deep in her ass. “Thank you, detective. I’m so pleased you could make a house call.” She felt his finger saw in and out of her butt and his tongue match its pace. Her loins tightened. She let him take her to a new place. This was exquisite; she was in no hurry. His tongue lapped, and his finger never stopped moving. His tongue bore into her pussy. “Ah,” she moaned. “You’ve got me. I’m all yours. Take me, Jim.” He used other fingers somehow to trace the outline of her clit. And then she came and he drank greedily. Gently, he removed his finger from her butt and blew softly on her clit. She gasped. Her loins quivered and her head lolled back and forth. Too much! She rolled away from him and hugged herself tight, fighting back tears. Slowly, she regained her equilibrium. She didn’t look at Jim for fear he would see into her soul. Had she given him more than she’d intended? She couldn’t explain her tears. He’d wanted her on this island since before they first made love. She’d waited. She’d resisted. What barrier had she crossed? She’d thought she was still playing a game. She was his dinner. But he’d gotten much more than that. Did he have any idea how much she’d given? Her heart had skipped to another planet 233

The Merry Widow when he blew warm breath on her clit after she’d come. So far it hadn’t returned. **** By eight o’clock the next morning, Merry had already dressed and was seated at her computer trying to finish a project while Jim slept in. He’d agreed to work a swing shift for a buddy. She had difficulty concentrating—not that that was new and different these days, but the image of serving herself for Jim’s dinner on the kitchen island refused to travel to a memory bank where it belonged. It hovered, cajoled, reminded. When he’d blown on her clitoris after her climax on the kitchen island, she’d nearly turned to pure liquid fire. And most crucially, there was the matter of her heart. He retained a good share of it. She rubbed the back of her neck. She didn’t have a clue when it would happen, but at some point her Shangri-La existence was going to end. The mob would give up one way or the other. And Jim would move out. How could she let him leave with a part of her heart? She couldn’t. Either he had to stay, or she’d have to contrive a way for him to want to leave. The only way he’d leave voluntarily would be if she pissed him off enough or hurt him badly. She blinked back tears. She never wanted to hurt him; she loved him. So could she live with him—permanently? The phone rang, freeing her from her immediate dilemma. “Hello, Mrs. Delaney?” “Yes.” It was the voice. Merry’s heart tripped one beat over the next. “I don’t pretend to understand the younger generation. Lady, I don’t know how you can live with yourself flaunting your two lovers—one male, one female—it ain’t right. Where is your sense of morality?” “I’m sorry if I offend you.” 234

The Merry Widow “I don’t believe that for a minute. Don’t matter. What’s done is done. Delete the accounts. We’re not going to use them any more. Any woman who doesn’t give a damn about how many people see her fucking her brains out can’t be trusted. You were a mistake from the beginning.” The voice paused. “I wish I could see the looks on the faces of that St. Jermaine woman and your detective when they find out about each other. You can’t keep that secret forever.” “Oh, I’m sure they’ll find out—but thank you for your concern.” She heard the dial tone and screamed, “Hallelujah!” Jumping for pure joy, she dashed down the hall. Jim met her at the solarium doorway. “I’m fired!” she squealed. “The mob can’t trust me.” She placed her hands on Jim’s shoulders when he spun her around. She was dizzy by the time he tossed her on the bed. “You did it, Merry! You beat the mob.” Jim’s grin split his face. “We did it, Jim. I could never have done this without you. Can you believe that gangster—who is raising money to turn girls on to drugs and pimps—has the nerve to question my morality because I make love to a man and to a woman with the shades up and blinds open?” Jim nodded his head in agreement. “You’re right. It doesn’t compute.” A worried frown furrowed his brow, and he glanced away from her. “Why so somber, Jim? I thought we might take the day off and celebrate. We did it. We told the mob to fuck off and they did. Even your captain will be pleased.” “Yeah, he will be. I am pleased, Merry. I’m very pleased for you, but I’d better start collecting my stuff.” A sudden chill niggled at Merry’s lower spine. “What do you mean?” 235

The Merry Widow “I’m no longer needed here. This was temporary. Remember?” The darting pain in Jim’s eyes stabbed at her. Merry moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “So do you want to move back to your apartment, Jim?” “Do you want me to stay?” She heard the catch in his voice. “I’ve kind of gotten used to you hanging around.” She smiled at his arched eyebrows. It was time. She couldn’t let him walk out with part of her heart. “How could I go back to having sex only twice a week?” “That would be the pits, I suppose. Of course, you have all those vibrators and dildos.” The gleam in his eyes told her he was teasing. “They’re only aids. They’re not a substitute for the real thing—for Big Boy.” She pouted and batted her eyelashes. “I’m not sure how little beaver would manage without him.” Jim eyed her sharply. “Are you saying you want me to stay, Merry?” “I’m saying you can, if you want to.” She caught the hesitation in her own voice. Each of them feared rejection. “Oh, I want to.” There was a pause. “Merry, are you going to jump out of your skin if I tell you I love you?” She didn’t hesitate. “Not as long as I can tell you that I love you.” He hauled her up into his arms and kissed her. It was slow and easy, yet devouring. She was nearly overcome by the tenderness of his tongue exploring her mouth as if for the first time. After what seemed like minutes, Jim eased away from her mouth and reached for the crystal chrysalis. “Merry, I know this is way too early for us, but if you use this figurine as a crystal ball, can you see off into the future?” 236

The Merry Widow Merry held the butterfly and peered at it until its rainbow of colors blended in soft focus. “Yes, I believe I can.” “Do you see the possibility in the distant future of us marrying?” Her entire body warmed. She briefly peeked at the chrysalis, glanced up at him, and curved her lips into a smile. “Yes, I believe that’s a distinct possibility.” He arched an eyebrow and winked. “Do you see the possibility of dropping Girls’ Night Out—again, in the distant future?” She knew he was teasing, yet maybe not entirely. Still, it was a question worth answering. She drew in a deep breath and peered again into the figurine for a full minute, wrinkling her nose. She looked at him carefully. “Nope, I don’t see that possibility.” She held the chrysalis over her heart. “So what are you going to do about it, Jim?” He smiled brightly. “I’m going to love you with all my heart and soul. Trust me—I’ll never try to change you.” “I’m counting on that, Jim. Of course, this statue I’m holding is all about change.” “And new life. Come, Merry Widow, let me show you how much I love you.” Merry placed the statue on its shelf and turned back to face Jim. She undid the top button of her simple dress and then the next. She welcomed the passion building in Jim’s eyes and knew her own passion matched his. She stepped out of the dress, unsnapped her bra, and slid her panties down her legs without taking her eyes off of his. She cast him a radiant smile and held out her arms to him. “Please, Jim, show me how much you love me. You know how much the Merry Widow loves show and tell.” 237

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Adriana Kraft is really two people, which may be why she so passionately enjoys reading and writing erotic romance. A married couple, “she” teaches college, specializing in human services and criminal justice. She has lived and worked in many parts of the U.S. and has traveled widely, providing her with a wealth of settings for her books. She hopes readers will relish her novels at least half as much as she has relished writing them, and she highly recommends sharing the sizzling fiction with a partner. It may take longer to finish the book, but Adriana believes a good book is meant to be savored!

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