by Selena Kitt
Indeed, she really did a number on him. I wish I knew how to find her so I could kick her ass.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” I say.
“No, no, no.” He shakes his head and looks at me again. “That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to explain myself. My offer stands; I would love it if you wanted to share your life with me.”
Continuing to look at me, he anxiously awaits my answer while I try to make sense of it all. I also can’t imagine my life without him. After today, I’m even more mindful of how strong my feelings for him are. Is there a downside to accepting?
My mind has let me down once already today, filling me with suspicions and pain when my heart wanted to continue to believe in us. It’s obvious which to follow on this.
I slip my hands around his neck and pull him close to me.
“Yes, OK. I’d love to move in with you. But if you ever change your mind…”
“I told you already, I could never lie to you. If I don’t think it’s working out, I’ll say so. Promise you’ll do the same?”
I nuzzle against the side of his face, excited, slightly scared but mainly thrilled. He leans back and kisses me on the lips.
“I promise,” I whisper, before returning his kiss with a less innocent one.
When I see his eyes flash open in front of me, I know. It’ll all work out somehow. What we have together is special, a once in a lifetime thing. And totally worth taking a chance on, no matter how irrational it is.
About the Author
Hedonist Six (or simply “H.”) is a Romance writer based in rainy England. Addicted to caffeine, chocolate and impure thoughts, she likes to write short stories and serial novels dealing with those aspects of the human condition that we all think about, yet dare not discuss openly. No-one is perfect, neither are her characters, which makes them all the more relatable and well-liked by her fans.
For more information, please visit her website at http://www.hedonistsix.com where you can also sign up for her mailing list and receive special deals, a free ebook of your choice, and be entered into prize draws.
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Summer’s Journey
A True Romance / Erotica Series
Summer Daniels
Volume One: Losing Control
Prologue
I slipped the blindfold over my eyes, took a deep breath and knocked twice on the door. I heard it open and Mark’s warm voice filled my ears. “Come in Summer. I am so happy you chose to join me tonight.” He led me into the center of the room and stopped. “Just stand there for a moment if you would while I feast my eyes. You look absolutely stunning. That lovely dress is going to look very stylish on the floor next to the bed.”
I never heard him move, but I could feel him behind me now. As he nuzzled the side of my neck, he pressed himself lightly against me. Whatever reservations I once had at giving up control to this stranger disappeared as my nipples did their best to rip through the lace bra and silk dress. How on earth could he know that my neck was one of my weak spots?
“I must confess that you are wearing much more at the moment than I am” he said. “Allow me to even the playing field.” As he slowly unzipped my dress, he followed the descending zipper with his soft lips and tongue. He reached up and tugged gently and the dress pooled at my feet.
1
I gave serious thought to unveiling my real name to the world. Throwing all caution to the wind and changing my life for good.
I decided it wasn’t quite fair to my family. While I’m not particularly close to my brother or sister, I am quite partial to my nieces and nephews and I couldn’t picture the looks on their faces if my secrets were revealed and my true identity widely known.
I think sometimes it is still possible that they will stumble across these stories someday and recognize their Aunt in some fashion. Then I think that the odds of their associating the wild and wanton ways of “Sassy Summer” with the Aunt who would never even wear a bikini in front of them would be akin to winning the lottery without buying a ticket. Not going to happen.
Then again, I had no idea just how wild and wanton things were going to get.
I was a simple fortyish average housewife. Not going to win any beauty pageants, but I hadn’t given up on trying to keep a little pride in my appearance, or in my marriage. Right up until the day about eighteen months ago when my husband of almost twenty years told me he was trading me in on a younger, sportier model. Not his exact words of course, but they might as well have been. To say I was shocked would be an understatement of epic proportions.
Things had never been particularly exciting in the bedroom, or in our marriage in general, but they were comfortable. That was the word that described our marriage and our life together the best. We rarely fought, nothing more serious than the usual complaints of a long marriage, such as a toilet seat left up leading to a wet ass in the middle of the night. Or his anal personality shining through in the way he scrubbed all our dishes before they were allowed in the dishwasher. I’m sure he had his complaints as well, who doesn’t after almost twenty years of marriage, but if he had them, he kept them to himself.
Perhaps the ass I mentioned previously had gotten a little wider since we had gotten married, but he never said a word and since I bought most of his clothes over the years, I knew that his waistline had expanded as well.
Looking back I suppose it is just too easy to get complacent, to get “comfortable” in a marriage, to take each other for granted. It is a sad commentary on marriage perhaps, but I would bet more than half of you out there reading this right now are nodding your heads in agreement, recognizing for yourself the truth in my words.
Some of you might take that recognition as a wakeup call for your own marriage. If you do, I am more than happy for you. Some of you will recognize the signs of demise in your marriage, or already have, but just don’t care. That is honestly more common than I think most people care to admit to themselves.
As for myself, I am not sure I really believe in marriage anymore. Or maybe I just can’t see going back to the way things were. Feeling free at the age of – well, at my age, doesn’t just feel good, it feels right.
Maybe the spark had died in our marriage when we went through the series of miscarriages fifteen years ago. The last one was a fallopian tube miscarriage, ending for us the dream of children of our own.
The emotional scars that were left behind were much more damaging than the physical ones.
Sex was never the same for us after that. Where things had once been light and playful, there was now a sense of lingering disappointment and resentment. Maybe it would have been better out in the open where we could deal with it, but neither of us were the type to confront our feelings, choosing instead to hide behind our usual routines and excuses. Sound familiar to any of you?
2
After spending the better part of two weeks crying into my ice cream and wine with my best friend Julie, I finally came to the realization that maybe this was an opportunity instead of a disaster. I had always wondered in the back of my mind what it might be like to be that uninhibited woman capable of having sex just for the sake of pleasure, to be well and truly fucked for once, to be satisfied to the point of exhaustion. Certainly these were things I had never felt in the confines of my marital bed.
Given how much time I suddenly had on my hands coming home to an empty house, I found myself spending too much time with my hands on myself. While I enjoyed masturbation with a renewed sense of purpose since the separation, it left me feeling empty and unfulfilled. I needed to go out on a date. Except I really didn’t want to date, I wanted to get laid. Crude perhaps, but true.
Something Julie said one night after too much wine came to mind. She said that th
e internet had opened up a whole new world for women in terms of finding someone to take care of their needs. Given that she is happily married with three kids, I found the comment somewhat unsettling and quickly dismissed it as nothing more than the wine talking. Her comment stayed in the back of my mind through the next several days though and made me wonder what might be out there.
I had enough common sense to not just post an ad that said “Looking to get laid” – I would still be sorting through responses and close-up pictures of men’s cocks even now a year later. Those pictures lie by the way, they are never as big in real life as in the photo, something about the angle of the camera.
After looking through hundreds of ads from men that either wanted “to meet tonight” (translation: desperate) or that were just “looking for someone to talk to” (translation: married), I finally decided on posting an ad that simply said “Seeking something casual, I’m a sure thing, but not easy, I’m going to make you work for it”. I figured that would weed out the “let’s meet tonight” guys and allow me to exchange a few emails with an intelligent man or two. I figured wrong. The sheer volume of “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll walk funny for a week” emails quickly overwhelmed me. Or should I say the sheer volume of “u r so sexy – I have a large dick and you will cum over and over” type of emails overwhelmed me. The lack of intelligent response and simple grammar skills was mind-boggling.
Sorting through emails, unsolicited pictures and more than a few threesome invites, I really had no idea what I was looking for. It became something of a process of elimination, because I certainly knew what I wasn’t looking for.
It became apparent quickly that finding the right combination of intelligence, humor, personality and charisma was going to be like the proverbial needle in a haystack. Out of several hundred responses (who knew there were that many horny men out there?), only a few warranted a return email. Perhaps I was being picky, but I really didn’t think being able to spell orgasm without being spotted a vowel was asking too much.
3
After several promising emails back and forth with a man who took the time to spell check and showed some interesting hints of personality, I agreed to meet for a drink at a local hotel bar. According to his emails of the previous days, he was recently divorced himself and slowly wading back into the dating world. Gainfully employed as an engineer and still sporting most of his original hair (if his emailed picture was to be believed), he was quite the catch, although the attention I was looking for honestly was a little farther south than my heart.
First impressions are always important, so when Mark stood up from his bar stool to greet me and hold out my chair, I smiled warmly and relaxed. We had left things fairly vague in our emails, agreeing to nothing more than meeting for a drink and seeing if there existed an attraction. Mark looked better in person than his email picture, standing about six foot even, short dirty blonde hair and a sparkle in his eyes that spoke of intelligence and passion. He was certainly not physically imposing by any means, but there was something commanding about his personality that made him stand out in the crowd.
Any apprehension I had about meeting this stranger for a drink disappeared as we chatted for a few minutes about our respective lives. We talked about our divorces. He instigated his after finding out his wife was cheating on him. “It was such a cliché” he said, “she reconnected with an old high school friend through Facebook. She started spending more time online than she ever had in the past. The warning signs were there, I just thought I meant more to her than that.”
I told him what it felt like when my husband came home one evening and said he wanted a divorce. No argument, no reason he would articulate, he just wanted out. It was only when I threatened to contest the divorce did he admit to “having met someone”.
“For three days I went back and forth between hiring the most aggressive ball-busting lawyer I could find to take every penny he ever even thought of making, and crying myself to sleep. I found myself arguing passionately about saving a marriage that we both had neglected for way too long. Looking back, I think I was simply scared of being alone after all that time together.”
Mark nodded slowly as I talked, empathy etched on his features. I ordered a second glass of white wine while he had another Jack & Coke. As we talked about mundane things such as work and family, I almost forgot for a moment what had drawn us here together. Then again, I was wearing a thong for the first time in at least a decade and spilling out of a low-cut top I rushed out to buy after agreeing to this meeting.
Mark definitely appreciated the view as I could see him sneaking a glance at my cleavage every so often, but he also had a way of maintaining eye contact that I found very engaging and charismatic. When I paused for a moment after finishing another painful divorce anecdote, Mark set his drink down and started to speak.
“Let me ask you something Summer. And let me preface it by saying I respect you too much already to waste your time. What is it that you are looking for?”
I started to open my mouth to answer then thought better of it and sat quietly for a moment, taking another sip of wine while I pondered the question.
I took a deep breath and feeling the color rushing to my cheeks I began to speak.
“I haven’t been with a man since my husband left me and even before then, it had been awhile. I miss the intimacy of feeling a man beside me and to be completely honest, inside me. It occurred to me when I arrived that there are rooms available above this bar and that we are indeed two adults of consenting age and intent, so to speak. Is that too forward of me to admit?”
He glanced down at the table for a moment as if he were making a decision before speaking. “I appreciate the honesty Summer, believe me. It is refreshing to meet a woman that is not afraid of being honest and admitting she has desires and needs. I think you are a lovely woman and that makes what I am going to say next that much harder. I want something more than a one night stand, so while part of me would love nothing more than to take you upstairs, I’m going to respectfully decline.”
“Before you stand up and storm off, because I can see the lightning that just flashed in your eyes, please hear me out. When I say I want something more than a one night stand, it doesn’t mean I’m looking for any more of a commitment than you are.”
I struggled to keep the anger out of my voice as I responded. “I don’t understand what you are saying. You don’t want to sleep with me, you want something more, but you don’t want a commitment.” My voice started to rise as I continued. “It sounds to me like you have no idea what you want.”
“Trust me Summer, I absolutely do want to sleep with you. Very much as a matter of fact, but I have something in mind that I want to propose. You and I both married early in our lives, and you have admitted in our emails that you have fairly limited sexual experience. True?”
“True.” I said.
“What if I said I had an idea to expand that experience, in a way that would give us both a great deal of fun and pleasure? No pressure, no expectations, just an idea that has been in the back of my mind for awhile? Would that interest you? Before you answer, I’m going to make your decision even harder. I’m going to ask that if you say yes, you do so with the full intent that I will decide how we move forward, when, where, and how. From our emails and our conversation I know that you have always felt like you had to be the one in control. What I have in mind requires you to give up that control and trust me. I know it is a lot to ask, after all we’ve just met.” Mark glanced down at the table again, almost seeming a little shy now that he had verbalized his desire.
“I honestly don’t expect, nor want you to answer right now” he continued. “Give it some thought. I know it was not what you were expecting tonight. I will respect and honor whatever decision you make. And with that I shall bid you adieu for now.”
I’m sure that I probably could have caught flies in my gaping mouth as I sat there stunned that Mark had gotten up and left. The longer I s
at there, the angrier I got. “How dare he leave me sitting here alone” I thought. “How dare he turn me down! What kind of man turns down an offer like the one I gave him? I’m wearing a thong for this?!!”
4
My mood had not lightened much by the time I dragged myself into work the following day. My staff of eccentric programmers and hardware techs did not seem to notice the dark storm clouds hovering over my head. After the third time I snapped at a minor offense I realized that I needed more caffeine and to put last night out of my mind. Somehow I should have known that was not meant to be.
As I was hiding in my office reviewing weekly status reports, my assistant Melissa knocked on the door and leaned around the frame tentatively as if she were half expecting to lose her head. “Come in Melissa. I’m fine, just a little tired this morning” I said half-truthfully. Melissa looked at me for a moment before saying “the guard desk called, they are sending someone up to see you.”
Sure enough a moment later there was an additional knock on the door frame and someone carrying a huge bouquet of beautiful yellow roses entered the office. “Delivery for a Ms. Summer Daniels” the young man from the florist said. “That’s me.” I spoke as I rose from behind my desk. After tipping the delivery man and sending him on his way, I examined the bouquet more closely. There was a small envelope attached to a single red rose in the center of what looked like maybe two dozen long stemmed yellow roses. On the front of the envelope it simply said “Summer”. “Who are they from?” Melissa inquired. “I have no idea” I said, “but I have a feeling.” I opened the envelope and pulled out a small card that had nothing on it but a website address in small type.
