by Alison Tyler
Way dirtier.
Whenever Summer puts her lips to my ear in the afternoon, I know I’m going to get a promise. Whenever she breathes out secrets and promises in that breathy, horny voice, I know I’m about to get a two o’clock promise.
And it’s always something good.
THREE P.M. CLOSED-DOOR MEETING
Sasha White
Some say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I say abstinence makes the lust burn hotter. This is the reason I don’t begrudge the fact that my husband occasionally travels for his work. Michael, my brainy geophysicist, whose studious glasses and button-up shirts hide the fiery libido of a hot-blooded sybarite, never fails to feed my hunger for him while he is away, or satisfy it completely upon his return.
And with his return from Cairo only two days away, I ignored everyone and everything outside my office doors and strove to get all my accounts caught up so I could be free to welcome him home for a long weekend. Only instead of the columns and numbers on the pages in front of me, my mind was full of images of greeting him at the airport, being swept up in his strong arms and held against his muscled body. The drive home would be silent, ripe with anticipation that hardened my nipples and moistened my thighs. Barely inside the doors of our home he would shove me against the wall, rough in his eagerness— eagerness that flowed hotly through my own blood as he’d lift my skirts, make quick work of his zipper before thrusting home. A quick hard fuck, animalistic in its intent and action.
Yes, my geeky husband would let loose his true desires, mastering me completely as he’d take me again and again, keeping me naked and wet as he used my body and reconnected our souls.
As if conjured by my lustful thoughts, my husband’s handsome face came up on my twenty-inch screen, and a telltale pinging brought me up short. With barely a glance at the clock I accepted the call. “What’s wrong?” I asked before Michael could say anything. It was just after three in the afternoon for me, which meant after midnight for him. An unusual time for him to make contact.
“Just missing you,” he said, his voice husky, his smile sleepy.
I drank in the sight of stubbled jaw and heavy-lidded eyes, only then realizing that my heart had been in my throat. “Lord, Michael, you scared me, calling so late.” He was a scientist visiting a university, not a soldier searching through dangerous tunnels for terrorists, but I still worried when he wasn’t by my side.
He ran a hand through his adorably rumpled hair and frowned apologetically. “Sorry, I was dreaming and woke up wanting you. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Don’t you dare hang up, mister!” I said quickly. “I was just surprised because of the time. You know I’m always eager to see you.”
“Forty-nine more hours until you’ll be seeing me in person,” he said. The camera shifted and then settled, filling my screen with the delicious sight of my husband’s completely naked form, sprawled amidst rumpled bedsheets. The heat that had pooled low in my belly during my earlier thoughts reignited, spreading fast when his cock waved at me.
“You are missing me, aren’t you, darling?”
“I am.” He stroked himself lightly, making my mouth water. “It’s been three weeks since this has been buried deep in your juicy cunt. Remind me why I took this gig?”
His crude words had my sex clenching hungrily, and I fought to speak coherently. “Money, prestige, a need to share your beautiful mind with the rest of the world.”
He shook his head, laughter shining in his slumberous eyes. “Oh, yeah. What was I thinking?”
“You were probably thinking that it would be okay because when you got home your wife would be eager to make up for lost time on her knees, and we both know how much you enjoy that.”
His laugh was husky. “Just as we both know how much you do.”
“Only two more days, Michael, then that’ll be my hand stroking your flesh.” I stared into the tiny camera at the top of my computer screen and licked my lips. “Or my mouth.”
He groaned. “I was hoping to catch you alone. Why don’t you slide your chair back and lift your skirt for me?”
My nipples hardened and my breath caught. “Let me lock the door,” I said, pushing my chair back to stand.
“No. Leave it.”
I froze at his command. “Michael, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. It’s closed, right? Mornings you keep it open, afternoons you keep it closed so you can get shit done.”
A shiver of excitement danced down my spine as I stared at my closed office door. Normal, everyday business sounds could be heard through the door, muffled, but still there. I was no angel, as Michael well knew, and while a little risk always made hot sex go supernova, this was my office. If someone walked in, it would be someone I knew, not some random stranger.
“C’mon, Katherine,” Michael’s voice whispered out of the computer. “Show me the naughty girl that’s buried beneath that straitlaced business suit.”
Tearing my gaze from the door, I stood and angled the computer screen so it was directly in front of me and tilted slightly down. After shrugging off the jacket of my suit I skimmed my hands over my aching breasts, cupping them, thumbs rubbing over the nipples briefly before traveling down over my hips to slowly slide the pencil skirt I was wearing upward. On screen Michael watched, eyes glued to my hands as I raised my skirt inch by inch, his own hand gripping his rigid cock.
“There’s my girl,” he crooned when he saw the top of my stockings and the garter belt that held them up. I spread my thighs and lifted the skirt that final inch that showed him the bare flesh of my thighs and the fine hairs covering my pussy. “I love that you never wear panties. You’re always ready to go, aren’t you?”
“Only for you.”
“Touch yourself,” he said. “Are you wet for me now?”
Shifting my stance, I dipped a hand between my thighs and ran a finger over the swollen lips of my cunt, teasing myself as Michael liked to tease me. A quick foray with two fingers proved I was indeed ready, and I lifted my hand to the screen, showing him the gleaming juices coating them.
“Taste yourself. Lick your fingers clean, and imagine it’s my mouth on them. My tongue swirling over them and reveling in your flavor.”
A whimper of pleasure rose in my throat and my knees weakened at the desire shining in Michael’s eyes. Once again, as if reading my mind, my husband told me to sit. “Show me how you miss me, my love.”
Needing no further encouragement, I sank back into my chair and began to play. As I made quick work of the buttons on my silk blouse, a brief prayer of thanks for the advances in modern technology drifted through my mind. Not only could I view my husband’s prime form even while thousands of miles away, but in a smaller window, on the bottom of the computer screen, I could see my own.
The sides of my blouse were pushed aside and I could almost feel the heat of his gaze on my generous breasts. On the screen the deep red of my ripe nipples was visible through the lace of my bra. With a flick of my hand the front clasp was undone and I shoved the cups away, exposing myself.
“Pinch your nipples,” my husband commanded. “Imagine your fingers are my teeth.”
I did as he asked, watching as he licked his lips, the hand stroking his cock tightening. “Cup your balls,” I ask. “Imagine it’s my hand between your thighs.”
Michael spreads his legs and his second hand delves between them. The palm of my hand itches to touch him. Instead, I spread my thighs further and lift my feet to place them on the edge of the desk.
“Can you see me?” I ask, even though the small image on my screen assures me my chair is far enough from the desk that he can. I lower my hand and brush my fingertips over the sparse curls on my mound. “Do you see the shine of my juices on my lips? See how wet just the sight of you, the sound of your voice, makes me?”
The shrill ring of a phone shattered our solitude at the exact moment I ran a finger up and down my slit and I jolted, causing my finger to delve deeper even as I ten
sed in fear.
Neither of us moved as the line was picked up outside my door. When the phone on my desk didn’t ring again I knew the call wasn’t for me, and relief softened my muscles.
Michael’s chuckle brought a flush of embarrassed excitement to my cheeks and a wash of cream to my cunt. I smiled at him. “You’re going to get me fired,” I whispered as I fingered myself.
“If anyone walked in on you they’d only drool at the sight of your lusciousness.”
Saliva filled my mouth. “Like I’m drooling at the sight of yours?” I asked.
He changed angles so I could better see his engorged cock, his fist moving steadily over it. “I can’t wait to feel your drool greasing my dick as I fuck your mouth. That’s what I was dreaming of that woke me.”
“It’s what I was thinking of just before you called,” I said, rubbing a fingertip over my clit. Little shocks of pleasure whipped from clit to nipples and back to the curl into the tight knot of desire deep within my belly. “I dreamed of greeting you at the airport, of feeling your arms around me. The exquisite tension building between us as you drove us home, only to break when we entered the house and you shoved me against the wall and buried your cock deep inside me.”
His groan rumbled from the speakers, filling the small office and causing my eyes to jump to the door and my pulse to jump. The shadow of feet passed under the door and my insides clenched around my finger. Adding another I thrust deep and fast, matching pace with my husband’s strokes.
“After fucking you hard against the wall, you’d get on your knees.” He took up my fantasy and continued in a rough voice. “Your lips would lick your own juices from my cock, cleaning me, then taking me deep into your mouth and sucking until I was hard again. I’d wrap my fingers in your hair and watch as your cheeks hollowed and filled with every thrust.”
I forgot about teasing him with words as his own aroused me beyond control. Lust swamped me and I fucked myself harder, frigging my clit with the fingers of my other hand as my gaze stayed glued to the screen filled with my husband’s burning eyes and swollen cock. The head angry and red, the veins visible as he pumped his fist fast and hard, bringing his own sexual juices to the tip.
Hunger for his taste filled my soul and I whimpered. God, I missed him. I wanted him, I craved his touch, his taste…his body inside mine as we connected in the most basic way. The slickness of my need flooded my thighs as our eyes met; it was as if there were nothing between us, and when his lips parted and his command reached my ears, my body obeyed. “Come for me, wife.”
Heart pounding in my chest, I bit my lip to muffle my cries as the burning ball of lust in my belly exploded and pleasure singed every nerve in my body. My thighs trembled and my senses filled with the vision of my husband’s cock jerking. I was so into it that I could smell him, taste him, even as his grunts of release echoed in my head.
Much sooner than I would’ve liked, the real world intruded in the form of loud voices just outside my door. I quickly dropped my feet to the floor, did up my bra and blouse while Michael’s satisfied laughter caressed my ears. “You are such a naughty, naughty woman, Katherine. So prim and proper, and yet so delicious in your desires.”
My own satisfaction weighed down my limbs as I smiled at him. “And you so clever and canny in your own work, yet so down and dirty in heart.”
Our eyes met as the phone on my desk began to ring. “We are a pair, aren’t we?” he asked.
“We are the best pair,” I replied as someone else picked up the office line again.
“I know you have to go back to work,” he said. “Thank you for indulging me this afternoon.”
The phone beeped and a tinny voice filled the room. “Line two is for you, Katherine.”
I looked at the clock on the computer screen, then back at my husband. “Forty-eight hours and twenty minutes until I see you again.”
“Then we’ll do this for real.”
The phone beeped the angry tone of a call on hold for too long, and my finger hovered over the handset. “Love you,” I said.
He smiled and set his head on his pillow. “Love you, too.”
The screen went blank and I steeled myself. Picking up the phone, determination mixed with love.
Forty-eight hours and nineteen minutes left.
FOUR P.M. NO-SHOW
Cora Zane
Rain drenched the afternoon in a solid sheet of gray. From Elise’s perch behind the front counter of the occult shop, she listened to the rumbling thunder and stared through the display window, watching the downpour. The dreary weather showed no signs of letting up. Slow moving and determined, the traffic stuttered along Decatur Street, a cautious chain of headlights and brake lights blending into a steady stream. She sighed. No one is going out in that mess unless they have to.
Restless and a little disappointed, she tapped her yellow highlighter against the appointment book on the counter. She hated to mark off another no-show, but she checked the wall clock again and saw it was already after four p.m. Her last scheduled client for the afternoon should have arrived thirty minutes ago.
She didn’t usually get a lot of people in for tarot sessions on Mondays, but one of her regular clients had booked a reading weeks in advance. The woman never showed up late, but at the same time, she hadn’t called in, so Elise didn’t know what to think. She had prepared for a busy afternoon, and earlier spent a good twenty minutes setting up the private consultation room in the back, lighting candles and incense, and pulling the silky, patchwork drapes closed in an effort to create an atmosphere some of her clients seemed to expect when paying by the hour to have their cards read. However, it looked like she wouldn’t need the room after all.
“To heck with it…” She marked the no-show off the list, then eased down off the padded stool. The movement tugged her short skirt high on her pale thighs. She tugged at the hem on her way across the sales floor to the adjacent consulting room.
She brushed past the curtain hanging over the door and flipped on the lights. The air had gone smoky from the incense. She ignored the fragrant haze and crossed to the tarot table, where she began to clear her props away—a small bundle of sage in an abalone dish for smudging the cards between readings, and her layout scarves and tarot deck. Elise put the cards in a little wooden box she used to store them and had just turned her back when she heard the click of the light switch. The room went dark save for the dancing candle flames.
Her stomach clenched at the unexpected darkness. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Trip had come into the room. He pulled the silky curtains shut over the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
Rather than answer her, he gave her a roguish grin and started across the room to her. She put the wooden tarot box on the curio shelf to get it out of her hands, but before she could turn around again, Trip came up behind her and wrapped his tattooed arms around her waist, enveloping her in warmth and strength. “Does this answer your question?”
The smells of the hand-dipped incense he had been sorting into the display bins earlier in the day clung to him, and when he brushed her long red hair over to one side and kissed her neck, her ear, she bit her lip to control her smile. It didn’t work.
His fringy black hair, razor-cut and soft as a feather, tickled her skin. He pinned her hips and rubbed his denim-clad erection back and forth across her ass. “What do you think I’m doing now?”
“Mmm…I don’t know, but it feels promising.”
He pushed up her skirt, exposing her nearly bare bottom to the cool air. A warm hand groped her right asscheek, rubbed and squeezed, and then he pulled away and gave her bottom a smart slap with an open hand. “You know,” he said against her ear. “I don’t think we’ve properly initiated this room.”
The consultation room was probably the only room they hadn’t fucked in. The day the Realtor had handed over the keys to the building, they had initiated the sales floor, and the window seat in the upstairs apartment.
Smi
ling at the memory, she arched her back against him. His cock fit perfectly against the crack of her ass. She wiggled her bottom against him. “So let me get this straight. You want to initiate this room, right now. During business hours?”
“Let’s see, we’ve got no customers, shit weather, and I have the option of fucking you on the floor. Hmm. Sounds like a good idea to me.” He tugged at the T-strap of her lace thong. “Want me to consult the spirits about it to be sure?”
She heard the smile in his voice and tsked at him for teasing her, although she secretly loved it. He picked up the antique black cat figurine with the oracle ball centered on its head like a third eye, and shook it.
“So let’s have it, spirits. What do you say? A quickie in the tarot room to liven up the day—that sound like a good idea to you?” He stopped shaking the cat figurine. The little die wobbled inside the water-filled orb, and after a second or two, a message appeared in the tiny window. Signs point to yes.
“See?” He showed Elise the answer. “The pussy never lies.” He put the cat back on the shelf. His hands found her breasts and cupped them, squeezed them through her T-shirt. “Who knows, if we did this with people here, we might actually get more customers.”
She laughed at that, even as she leaned into him. Lack of customers or not, they were living their dream—a business in the French Quarter with an apartment upstairs. They could fuck till dawn, have breakfast in bed and still have time to walk downstairs and open the shop in the morning. When Trip slid both his hands beneath her blouse, her amusement faded into something more languorous and heady.
He found the underwire of her padded bra and pushed it upward, so the cups rested just above her breasts. Those eager hands cupped the small mounds and gently squeezed, his fingers brushing over her erect nipples.
“Mmm…” Her eyes slipped closed.
He nibbled the shell of her ear, and goose bumps broke out across her skin. Elise shivered and opened her eyes a fraction, glancing toward the large oval mirror on the wall, which reflected the curtained doorway.
