Tangled Hearts

by Laurie Ames

  “I’m sorry to tell you all that things didn’t go quite as planned …. they actually went better! I was able to negotiate for the seller to throw in all the lovely furnishings as a bonus. Ladies, your offer has been unconditionally accepted!”

  The women sprung up, giddy with excitement. They hooted and howled while hugging one another, jumping about the deck like elated schoolgirls.

  They were enjoying some herbal teas with lunch but upon hearing the good news, it was time to put away the tea. It was now time to break out some fine champagne to celebrate their good friendships and their exciting new lives. Once all the champagne flutes were filled with the delicious bubbly, Helen interrupted to propose a toast.

  “Ladies, I have never felt better now that I am blessed with Toni in my life. I also want to declare it here and now that I am truly in love with Toni. I want you to all know that she is very, very dear to me. We are soulmates, pure and simple, two halves that complete one other, perfectly complimenting, yet unique."

  “But best of all, now that all we ladies own this fantastic getaway, we are headed for a joyous future together—and many of those special times will be spent here at our beloved new home, Wapanachee cottage.”

  ~The End~

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  Holding Hope

  By: Michelle Hart

  Prologue:

  Hope has a dirty little fantasy, a very secret fetish that she has only dreamed about. But just once, what would it feel like to be naughty and do it for real? And how could she possibly make it happen?

  Chapter One

  ____________

  Hope stood up from her yoga mat, stretching along the length of her spine and moving very slowly, in case her hip locked up from standing in a cross-legged posture. It felt good to move, letting the heat of her practice spread through her body and joints. If her and Michael had one thing in common, it had always been Yoga. It had taken her a while to get back to the mat after their separation. Now loneliness was waiting for her whenever she rolled out that layer of latex and stepped into mountain pose. Today, it was eight months since he left. Today, she turned thirty years old. Today, it had felt right. When she'd put her feet on the mat, the pain was still there, but it didn't cut in the same way as it had. She missed him still, but it was a minor ache now, something she'd grown accustomed to.

  She struggled through her routine. Her stamina was weak, and her flexibility was mushy. She'd known going in that her body had gotten soft in the past 8 months, but she'd been surprised by how very much. It was now time to get back to her sexy body tone.

  Her phone had pinged halfway through her Sun Salutations, and she'd gotten a chuckle out of the fact that she'd never thought to turn it off. Her Mom Cynda, had absolutely insisted on phoning her twice daily after Michael’s departure. In some ways, his sudden departure had really shaken her Mom. Cynda had grown to be quite fond of Michael, especially considering she was originally against their marriage, mostly due to him being white and her being black.

  Hope, who had lived with Michael every day, had seen subtle signs that things weren't quite right in their relationship. He'd grown colder, and subtle clues such as kissing her cheek instead of her lips made her ask if things were okay. He would always say everything is just fine, but he hadn't fooled her. Then suddenly one day, the cold bastard said he was moving to another state to live with his new girlfriend.

  She was furious at him for leaving, but deep down inside she could see it coming. Among other things, she missed their swinging lifestyle, but truth be known, the thing she missed the most was his willingness to administer to her needs. But there was always one need she desired; one he could not deliver. She remembers the first time she asked to experience what it was like to be spanked – not just slapped on the ass for doing something wrong. She wanted a naughty erotic spanking, to feel that pain in her flesh and that sting move through her body. She had asked Michael for it and at first, he had agreed. She dialed it up by intentionally trying to displease him and then hoping to be properly corrected. It turned her on, she had to admit. She remembers looking forward to what was to come and wondering how he would administer her corporal punishment. It had made her shiver slightly in both fear and anticipation; and feeling deliciously vulnerable. When the time came for her punishment, she dropped her mini skirt, revealing only black high heels and her plump buttocks.

  “You are the master of this household, and I have displeased you.” She then handed him a twelve-inch wooden ruler. He paused for a moment, then stood there dumbfounded. He tried to bring himself to do it, but he could not.

  She loved and respected his reasons in not being able to deliver a sound spanking. He simply could not bear the thought of causing her physical pain, even if he knew she wanted to receive it. It was a hard answer for her to accept at first. Why could he not understand how badly she needed it? Why did his sensibilities matter more than her needs? In the end, she thought, it was a thoughtful thing he had done, but it did nothing to ease her itch. Their marriage from that day forward was never the same.

  Of course, her life changed once he was gone. At first, everyone had included her in everything, but she and Michael had two kinds of friendships. There were couples that were friends and other couples that they had sex with. It was too painful to be with the friend-couples, watching them go through the same pattern of living together and caring for each other. The couples that they had slept with didn't want only her; Michael had been as much a part of the attraction as she was. She'd bowed out of some gatherings, and she just wasn't invited to others. Slowly, she'd grown used to time alone. She'd rediscovered writing and was experimenting with poetry. She'd, god help her, taken up gardening. She'd considered adopting a cat.

  But now today, to her surprise, there was a message from someone entirely different. Looking down at her iPhone, it took her a moment to connect the name and face to the person. It was Liza Bellerose and she had been part of a scandal in both of Hope's circle of friends.

  Bill Jepsen, who most people had considered a confirmed bachelor had married a model known for posing for artists' nudes. Not only was Liza older by half his age but was also a woman of mixed race.

  What Hope knew of Liza was that for all the artists she'd posed for, none of them claimed to have slept with her. Several months ago, when Hope ran into her at a friend’s gathering, she'd embraced Hope with a strength that most people had eschewed. Everyone else had treated Hope like she was made of glass and about to shatter. Liza had squeezed her tight and then leaned back, tears glinting in her bright green eyes.

  “You'll get through this," Liza said, “it’ll be impossibly hard for a while, but you'll get through. You have friends.” Another squeeze, and the woman had stepped away.

  If Hope dug deeper into that memory, she knew that Bill had been standing near her, and had watched Liza walk away. At the time, she hadn't thought much of how Bill had gone after the woman. She'd been busily wrapped in her own cotton wool of unhappiness.

  When she'd heard about their quick marriage, she'd crossed her fingers like a girl, pleased that at least someone is happy. But for herself, she was feeling more and more like she was past her prime.

  She pushed away the feeling of dust and grime on her life and opened the message from Liza Bellerose.

  Hello! I hope I'm not intruding. I wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday, and also to invite you to dinner this evening. Bill and I have a – well, I suppose you could call it a proposition. What do you think?

  She smiled to herself, thinking of what a proposition had meant not so long ago. She and Michael never had much use for monogamy before or after they were married. If there was something more erotic than kissing her husband's mouth after he'd just finished eating out another woman or taking a mouthful of cock herself, she didn’t know what it was.

  Just thinking about it caused hot rushes to run between her thighs, and left her wanting to slip into the bedroom to tease herself until she cried out. She and
Michael had played such wonderful games. He'd fill her up with toys, then demand she go to business meetings with a butterfly kissing her clit or an egg up inside, leaving her wet, desperate and unable to concentrate. She missed the tease almost as much as she missed the sex.

  She was quite sure that Liza was not asking for that sort of proposition. Although some of the women that she and Michael had dated wanted to see Michael alone – this was how she'd gotten to know Bill – no one ever particularly wanted to spend time with just her. It didn't bother her, precisely, but as her separation pains had lifted and her sex drive had returned as strong as it had always been, she'd started to wonder how the hell a 30-year-old woman went about finding a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or someone who didn't identify as either one; she didn't particularly care. She was just finding herself more and more tired of coming alone.

  Michael had once been her best friend. Her companion. Her lover. She found herself rattling around their townhouse, over-cleaning and resisting the urge to call Cynda, yet again, and talk about nothing to just hear a human voice. She'd bought herself a little cake for her birthday, but eating it by herself was just too sad.

  But maybe it was time for Hope to accept that she needed to rebuild herself a new life, now that Michael was gone.

  I'd love to, she typed back to Liza. What time?

  Chapter Two

  ____________

  She'd fretted over her clothes for longer than she wanted to admit; she hadn't realized exactly how deep into the yoga pants and sweatshirt hole she'd fallen until she had to go looking for something dressier to wear. She'd thought her yoga pants had begun to hang on her, in fact she'd lost weight, in a good way, a model way. She'd found a perky black silk dress in the back of the closet and put on a matching red bra and panties. The creamy sheets of the silk dress slipped onto her shoulders, peppering her body with soft, sensual kisses. Like a lover, it seduced her senses and conveyed the skillful the art of dressing for pleasure.

  When she went to put on her lipstick for the first time in months, she saw soft and sexy pouty lips. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, and then promised herself; no matter how things went with Bill and Liza tonight, she wouldn't bury herself in this house with activities that were too old for her. She had plenty of life left to live, and the hell with thinking about Michael.

  ***

  Hope rang the buzzer marked Bellerose at seven sharp.

  "Hope?" Bill's voice over the intercom was just as smooth and suave as it always had been.

  "Hi, Bill," she responded.

  "Come on up," he said, and the door let out a polite buzz to let her know she could slide through. She made her way through the tasteful lobby to the elevator, then up to the 7th floor.

  When the elevator doors slid open, Liza was waiting there. She looked as gorgeous as Hope remembered; her light brown skin glowed with energy, and her hair was drawn back into a curly puff, decorated with a bright blue headband.

  "Oh, love," Liza said, her voice carrying a slight French accent. "We should have invited you so much sooner. I'm sorry."

  She opened her arms, and Hope – who had always loved to touch people, but learned the hard way to be cautious of casual touch with women, stepped into them with barely a moment's hesitation.

  It felt delicious to be held. It woke a fire inside of her belly that she'd been careful to keep banked, nearly smothered. The backs of her thighs tingled with the flush of energy that sparkled through her like champagne.

  "It was the perfect day and the perfect invitation," Hope said. "I'm just glad you texted. I was – well." She pulled back just a little, because there were desires tingling through her that were entirely related to that other sort of proposition, and she wasn't going to misunderstand this evening. She was wanted for herself, and that was plenty for tonight.

  "Hello, Hope," Bill said from the safety of the hallway, where he was propping up a wall with a lazy slouch. "It's been far too long."

  His shock of jet-black hair was very handsome, and his tall lean physique made her swoon a little. His hair was done very nicely, he had some form of oil mixed in to give a short but noticeable wavy form to the black strands. His forehead was almost square, large and imposing, but not laughably so. A few lines were laid upon it, but they were dismissive as tricks of light. His most striking feature was his eyebrows that were thick and impossibly straight and somehow made him seem more authoritative than his aura already suggested. His eyes were made of rich mahogany and held many secrets, as if locked in a strongbox that you wouldn't dare open in fear of what you might find within. If one ventured close enough, his eyes would hungrily envelop yours and pull your feet towards him. It was nothing he did precisely, it just looked as if he had a secret you would enjoy hearing about. He was definitely an authoritative looking person and that appearance was a huge turn on.

  Bill studied her for just a moment, and then dropped his head back with a fantastic laugh. She'd hardly ever seen Bill laugh, and she found it to be absolutely glorious. The line of his throat could have been the subject of an entire black and white photography series.

  "Liza and I are well suited for each other," Bill said, his eyes sparkling as he looked past Hope at his wife.

  "I agree," Hope said.

  "Come inside," he said. "We ordered in."

  The apartment was decorated in a modern style, all angles and clean lines. It still felt approachable, though, which was nice. The long glass and steel dining table was covered with take-out containers that smelled absolutely delicious.

  "Bill said you liked Indian," Liza said, "So I ordered - well, some of just about everything."

  She really had. Hope could see tandoori chicken, saag paneer, samosas, and lamb tikka masala, as well as a pile of what was probably naan wrapped in foil.

  "This is – wonderful."

  They settled into the delicious meal and light conversation. Liza was still finding plenty of work and was excited about a new project she'd gotten involved with through the university, highlighting the appropriation of the female form through photography. Bill's business had struggled slightly last year, but things were smoothing out now, and he was moving forward.

  She found herself watching the two of them carefully. She'd always gotten the sense from Michael that Bill was exclusively interested in kinky sex, but she saw the couple share several casual touches and long looks that she associated with a couple who had a loving life.

  "I’m a lucky man, she really understands me," Bill said.

  Hope turned her attention back to the conversation. "I'm glad of that," she said, offering him a smile. She felt the moroseness of grief twisting around her, and fought not to give in to it. Not having her own companionship didn't mean she wouldn't have it again, and it didn't erase the years she'd had with Michael. She could be sad without being destroyed and overwhelmed by the sadness.

  "And we came to an agreement," Bill said, his voice suddenly tighter, tenser than Hope had been expecting. "Since she's so good and kind about enjoying my fantasies with her and without her, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't give her the same freedom and enjoyment?"

  Hope's groin twisted in a way that had nothing to do with nervousness or fear. Had they invited her here for that other kind of proposition? That would be – oh, that could be delicious. That could be amazing. She glanced at Liza, and found the woman watching her with a calm demure gaze. It was hard for Hope to get a read on whether or not she was nervous, whether or not she was intrigued.

  "I'm interested," Hope said, trying to mirror that same calm neutrality. "Tell me more about what you have in mind?"

  Bill knew her well enough to smile. "Liz?" He said.

  Liza's voice shook just a little, but Hope was sure it was from her own interest, not from anxiety.

  "I want to watch my husband degrade, then fuck another woman," she said. "I want to tell him what to do. I want to berate her, just a little, tell her about how much better he is at fucking me, tell her
how much better I am for him. And I want her to touch me. I want her to beg me for direction. I want her entirely waiting on my pleasure."

  Hope took a long sip of cold water to try disguise how very much that simple description had turned her on. She doubted that anything could hide the tight peaks of her breasts that were now cutting angrily into her bra, or the fact that she needed to squeeze her thighs together and shift for a moment to focus enough to speak.

  "Forgive me for prying," she said. "Bill, Michael always made it sound like you enjoyed the kinky side of sex. I'm confused as to why I'm even in this moment, because this offer sounds amazing, and I really want to take you up on it. But I just – need to know we're all on the same page. I have a… umm… fetish and so far, it sounds like I just need to ask?"

  A long look passed between the couple, and Liza gave a small, slight nod.

  "Yes, we know all about it," Bill said, "Michael told us that he was not able to give you what you needed. And I can assure you that Liza and I can meet and exceed your expectations."

  "As for me, I've loved men, women, and those who don't consider themselves either one," Liza said, her eyes on the man across the table from her. "I love making love, I suppose. But it's been a while since I kissed a woman, and I want to, and I want to show you that control can be a different kind of delicious. Your name has always come up in our conversations."

  She took a long, slow breath and paused. "And if this works – if we all get along well together? I'd hope that we could see each other more often. All of us. Or just the two of us. Or the two of you. Or anything." She shrugged. "This new job means I may be away more often. I'd feel better if I knew that Bill had someone to take care of, if you know what I mean."

  "Yes," Hope said, before she even knew the word was going to escape her lips. She wanted this so much that it was dangerous. "Please. Yes."