“She’s leaving me,” he says factually without a hint of sadness. “Soon. She’s been draining our accounts and has starting packing up her clothes and knick-knacks. She thinks I don’t notice that every time she is supposedly going to Smithfield there is less and less of her stuff in the house.”
“I didn’t know…well…I…um….I’m sorry,” I want to confess I knew, but I don’t. It wouldn’t help him or me.
“She thinks she’s smart but she leaves her Facebook account signed in all the time. It’s some guy she used to know. She writes him love letters and gives him promises she would never make me. He’s better for her. It hurt for a while but now I’m ready to move on. Now I have a reason to get up in the morning and hold my head up high.”
“What?” I ask, wondering how he can so casually deal with betrayal when it almost killed me.
“You, silly head.” He reaches out and ruffles my hair as if I’m a schoolyard playmate. “I have watched and wanted you so long. It brought new hope to me and new desire. Dana, you give me life.”
I try to sit up and the pain between my legs shoots all the way up my spine. I have no idea how I’m getting home tonight because I’m sure I can barely walk. I wince as I try to stand, my naked body covered with evidence of his rough love.
“And what a strong life it is,” I mumble as I sit back down.
“I was a little pent-up,” he chuckles and reaches out to help me up. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I snap back. “Don’t ever be sorry for that. It was...everything…I have ever wanted.”
“So,” he whispers as he kisses me, gently this time. “We can do it again?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Harry.” I begin to look around at the wrecked house, so symbolic of the messy marriages we both endured. My heart sinks to tell him what I need to say. “Affair or not, you’re still married. I can’t date you, and I can’t be seen dating you. That’s a game nobody wins.”
Harry rises and slips on a pair of boxers. He moves so easily compared to every painful step I take. I tell myself if we ever get to make love again I will leave him as sore and happy as he has left me. His eyes are dim with momentary sadness as he hands me a folded shirt and pair of shorts.
“You can wear this home. But, before you go I have something to show you.”
“Really? I just thought you wrote that to get me over here.”
“No, look!” Harry pads down the hall excitedly with me lurching behind him. He goes into a side room, turns on a light, and points to a table holding a number of plastic trays filled with small seedling plants peaking up through tender soil.
“What on earth?”
“Starter seeds. I planted a bunch for you a few weeks ago. I’ve been nurturing them here in the workshop. They aren’t ready to go outside yet. They need to grow inside, undercover, in safety until spring. By the spring, they will be ready to go in the flower bed for everyone to see their beauty. By the spring, I’ll be ready too. Maybe we can plant these in your yard together.”
I brush my hand across the earnest face of this dear, sweet man and kiss his cheek lightly.
“I’d love that, Harry. I really, really would.”
The Audition
by Sherilyn Gray
Mia swiped a hand across the steamy mirror, heaving a sigh. She grabbed the brush off the counter and ran it through her long brown hair. She opened the tiny window in the bathroom to let out some of the steam so she could do her make-up.
“Are you done yet?” Amanda, Mia’s roommate, called from outside the room.
“Give me a minute.”
The door opened. Amanda crossed her arms, leaning against the door pane.
“You don’t even need make-up,” Amanda complained.
Mia swiped her eyelashes with some mascara, highlighting her baby blues. “I look better with it. I look twelve without it.” She covered up her freckles with some powder.
“But guys like that.” Amanda walked around her to the toilet, taking it upon herself to lift her skirt and sit.
“Maybe creepy ones.” She tossed her make-up into her make-up bag. “You have no shame, by the way.”
“What?”
Mia shook her head. She walked out of the bathroom, into the bedroom they shared. Their apartment was fairly small, in New Jersey, just across the Hudson River. The commute into the city sucked, but living here was cheaper than trying to find a place in New York.
“You’re just bitter because you don’t have a boyfriend,” Amanda stated as she walked into the bedroom, straightening her hair with her fingers.
Mia was searching through her closet, pulling out some clothes. “I don’t need a boyfriend. I wouldn’t mind getting laid now and then, though. A year is a long dry spell.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t had sex in a year. That’s just horrible.”
“It’s not awful,” she said. “But it would be nice to have someone else to do all the work.”
Amanda picked up a magazine next to Mia’s bed, holding it up. “So instead you spend your time masturbating to Richie Rich.”
Mia snatched the magazine out of her hands. Her eyes fell upon the handsome face grinning back at her from the cover of Forbes magazine. Jack Hamilton was one of New York’s freshest faces and he’d made quite a name for himself in the five years he’d been on the scene. He had also become one of the most eligible bachelors in the city with the fattest wallet. Mia had a massive crush on him. Those deep blue eyes and that dashing smile made her weak in the knees.
“You know he’s in the market for a girlfriend, right?” Amanda asked.
“He’s the most eligible bachelor in New York City at the moment. Of course he is.”
“No, I mean, the actual market,” she said. “As in mine.”
Amanda worked at a matchmaking service that catered specifically to rich clientele.
“Really?” Mia asked, trying not to sound as intrigued as she was.
“Mm-hmm,” she said. “Supposedly they’re having an invite-only, special audition for him somewhere away from my office.”
Mia chewed on her lower lip. “But you don’t know for sure?”
“Well, not one-hundred percent, no. But I do know that there are auditions being held for someone at an address tomorrow, and I’d almost bet my life that it’s for him.”
“What if it isn’t?” Mia asked. “I don’t want to get paired up with some nasty old dude who smells like death.”
“Why not? Hey, marry him! If he’s rich and old, you’ll get his money when he dies.”
“Amanda! That’s horrible.”
“You’re a starving graduate student! You need the money.”
She rolled her eyes. “No need to be crass.”
“Do you want an invite or not?”
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out as she considered it. The idea of Jack being the one she was auditioning for made her heart flutter – not to mention other parts of her body. But what if it was somebody else?
“Be a risk-taker, Mia,” Amanda said.
Sighing deeply, Mia conceded, “Okay.” Hopefully she didn’t regret it.
The next day, Mia pulled her Honda up alongside the road, throwing it into park. Her eyes fell upon the numbers scrawled on the large, dark warehouse building, then dropped down to the post-it note her roommate had scribbled the address on. Furrowing her brow, she looked back at the warehouse. This had to be the wrong place. Had Amanda given her the wrong address? Was she on the right street? If this was an audition for someone rich – especially Jack Hamilton – there was just no way it would be in a place like this. She had been expecting some ritzy hotel.
Shaking her head, she grabbed her purse. Walking up to the warehouse, she noticed the sign on the door that said, ‘auditions inside.’ This looked more like some place she would go to get raped, not a date. Reminding herself that this was a legitimate matchmaking business that her friend worked for, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. There were arrows le
ading down a dark corridor, which she quickly followed, her high heels clicking against the concrete. There was a door at the end of the hall that said ‘AUDITIONS INSIDE.’ She opened it and stepped inside.
The room was much different than the rest of the warehouse. While it still had a slightly scary feeling to it, it had been furnished with a desk and a chair, and lighting made it softer. Behind the desk sat a beautiful blonde woman with enough diamonds dripping from her she must have been worth at least a million dollars. The woman raised her eyes to her.
“Are you here for the audition?” she asked Mia.
“Yes.” She fished through her purse for her wallet. “Do you need to see my ID or anything?”
“No,” she said. Standing, she said, “Follow me.” She turned and headed toward the back.
Mia shouldered her bag and quickly followed. The lady led her down a dark hallway into another room. She opened the door and motioned Mia in. “You’ll be notified when it’s your time,” she said.
“Thank you.” Walking into the room, Mia paused. There were rows of chairs set up along the wall, with six other women waiting. They all looked impeccably dressed, and much older and mature than herself. She slowly slinked over to the far corner of the room and sat down, smoothing her knee-length black skirt out. Her eyes fell down to her white blouse and skirt and then up at the other women. Their hair looked like they had just gotten back from the salon. Their nails were perfectly manicured, their make-up was flawless, and their clothes looked expensive and their jewelry even more expensive. She chewed on her lip. She had on ten-dollar boots with her clearance skirt and blouse, and Target bracelet, necklace, and earrings. She wondered if she looked as ridiculous as she felt. Who did she think she was – auditioning for someone as prestigious as Jack? Or anyone of his caliber, for that matter.
Just as she was considering bolting, the door opened, and a gentleman walked in. He was well dressed, with a thick black mustache, black-rimmed glasses, and what had to be a toupee because there was no way that mop-top was his real hair.
“Ladies,” the man spoke. He had a deep, rich voice with a sweet southern drawl that made a shiver go through Mia’s pussy. “My name is Jones. I’m your interviewer. I’ll be conducting the interviews, and then I will narrow you ladies down to three, upon then you’ll be introduced to your date, who will make the final decision as to which one of you to take out. Think of it as the Bachelor, with a middleman. As for this part of the interview, I’ll be evaluating each of you individually. You’ll sign a non-disclosure agreement upon entering, we’ll talk about you and your life a little, and then we’ll talk about what sort of things you’re expecting from this whole process. You’ll be expected to act like yourselves, so I can properly judge you, but don’t be over the top or dramatic. I can tell if you’re trying to play me, and I will mark that heavily against you. Are there any questions?”
None of the women raised their hands, so he took the first woman back. Mia timed how long the interview took. She hated interviews. It had made her stomach squishy just thinking about it. The longer the clock ticked on, the more nervous she got. As it creeped toward the half-hour mark, the woman came out of the room, looking flustered and annoyed. She didn’t say a word as she walked past the others, letting the door slam behind her. Two more women went in, each varying about the same time, although one came out after fifteen minutes, with a look of disgust on her face. Mia couldn’t help but wonder what Jones was asking them? Was he being mean? Were they just bitches and he told them so? Was he critical or not critical enough? Why did she find herself so drawn to him?
“Mia?” Jones asked.
Mia snapped her head up, startled out of her thoughts. He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s me,” she said.
“I sort of assumed, as you’re the only one left.”
She deliberately looked around the room and then up at him with a sheepish smile. Slowly she stood and followed him back into the room. There’s a table set up with two chairs, at opposite sides of the table.
“Go ahead and sign the non-disclosure agreement,” Jones said as he rounded the table. “You’re welcome to read it.”
Mia skimmed it, but didn’t pay much attention. Her heart was pounding, and her palms were beginning to sweat. She signed and dated the form, pushing it toward him. When her eyes met his dark sapphire ones, she was glad to be sitting. It was like looking into two deep oceans, dark and full of secrets.
“Tell me about yourself, Mia.”
“Um, well…I’m twenty-six-years-old,” she said. “Uh, I’m a graduate student at Columbia University.”
“What are you studying?” He began scribbling things down on his clipboard.
“Um, history,” she replied. “I’m working on my doctorate. I want to be a history professor.”
“Impressive,” he said. “Do you work?”
“I work at a history museum, cleaning artifacts. It’s not very glamorous, but it pays the bills, and it’s interesting to see all the new stuff come in.”
“Where do you live?”
“New Jersey,” she replied. “Just across the river.”
“Where were you born?”
“Brooklyn,” she said. Her eyes began to wander as he wrote on his clipboard. His button down shirt clung very tightly to his body, revealing taut muscles as his hand moved across the paper. It made her body warm to think of what he must look like naked. And those eyes…every time he looked up at her, it made her turn into a puddle. Those eyes could look into her very soul.
“What kind of dating history do you have, Mia?”
“Um, sporadic,” she said with a short laugh. “I’ve had a lot of boyfriends, but none of them very serious. I get dumped a lot because of being serious about school. I seem to attract losers.”
“Is that why you decided to do this? Hoping you’ll find someone who isn’t a loser?”
“Pretty much, yeah. I’m not much for matchmaking services, but my friend works for this one and she recommended me for it, so…I figured I would give it a try.”
“When’s the last time you had sex?”
She paused, not having expected that question. “Um…I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.”
Swallowing hard, she replied reluctantly, “About a year.”
“I see.” He sat the clipboard down and slowly circled the desk. “What kind of sexual experience do you have, Mia?”
“How…is that relevant?”
“Do you plan on having sex with this suitor?”
“Well, probably, if things go well…”
“Then it’s relevant, isn’t it?” He leaned back against the desk, inches from her, and crossed his arms.
She bit her lip. That drawl combined with the easy dominance he was throwing around made her pussy light up with desire.
“I have enough,” she replied simply.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means enough!”
“Are you a prude?”
“No.”
“A slut?”
“What? No!”
Jones leaned against her chair, placing both hands on either arm, very close to her face. The musky smell of his cologne engulfed her, making her stomach shudder with desire. Slowly, he inclined forward and whispered in her ear, “Have you ever been with someone who could make you come without being inside you?”
Mia shuddered. “Yes,” she replied.
“More than once?”
“No.”
His one hand rested upon her knee. Her body exploded with sensation. His fingers massaged lightly, working at the muscles. “Have you ever been with someone who made you scream his name?”
This wasn’t right, she thought to herself. She should stop him…but god that felt amazing. When he began to run his hand up her thigh and underneath her skirt, she let out a tiny moan. His lips brushed her neck, his tongue touching her earlobe. “How’s that feel?” he whispered huskily.
“Mm…”
His finge
rs stroked along the seat of her panties, and she gasped. “I asked you a question, Mia. I asked you two questions, actually.”
“Good,” she replied breathlessly. “It feels good.”
“And the first question?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve never been with someone who made me scream his name.”
“Do you want me to stop? If you do, all you have to do is tell me.”
“No…”
“No what?”
“No, don’t stop…”
He ran his fingers up and down across her pussy through her panties. She closed her eyes, parting her lips, drinking in the feeling, trembling. His other hand cupped her breast, his thumb brushing across the hard nub through her blouse.
Sensual Erotica (Vol. 1): 26 Erotic Stories Page 11
