Secret Delights (Lingerie Series)

by Hines, Yvette

  Secret Delights

  (The Lingerie Series)

  Yvette Hines

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission by the author.

  Secret Delights

  Copyright © 2013, Yvette Hines

  Proofing Editor: A. Jackson

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to eStore and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Series Note:

  I hope you enjoy The Lingerie Series, a new short story edition of the “Stir Sticks & Stilettos” series. This line of the SS&S will feature the voluptuously, lovely, full-figured heroines of different ethnicities that are confident, successful and not ashamed to flaunt their bodies in alluring lingerie paired with sexy mouth-watering heroes as so many of my readers have requested. These little nuggets of erotic shorts are meant to excite you, at the same time, give you a little happiness at the end. Stay tuned for the next stories to follow.

  Whispered words from the right lips can open the heart like petals of a flower in the sun and love can find a home…

  “Marisa, thank you so much for the information about the children’s reading carnival.” I stood before the library counter, University of North Carolina. It was early, so the library was practically deserted with the exception of a few overachievers already with their nose in a book.

  “You’re welcome, Gabrielle. Did your little niño enjoy himself?” Marisa Yasmine Martinez, a pretty Mexican-American woman who was fun and adventurous smiled at me.

  We had met at an annual training all the college employees were made to attend and, sitting next to each other for the three-day seminar, we had become fast friends.

  Leaning my hip against the counter, Gabrielle smiled. “Jason loved it. Since he hasn’t really made any new friends so far at school, things like that event means so much to him.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” Marisa walked to the book return and removed an armful of books and set them on the counter. “Now that we have entertained your son, when are we going out for some adult entertainment?”

  Gabrielle shook her head. “Good gracious, Marisa, I can’t even begin to tell you the last time I even thought about going out.” I did remember that it hadn’t been since Michael’s death. Almost three years now and there were days that she really missed the friend he was to her, even more than she missed him as a husband.

  “Well then, it is past time.” Marisa opened the top book and stamped the check-in date on the card that rested in the paper slot.

  Groaning, I said, “I don’t know. I was never any good at the club mingling thing.” I recalled the times in college I’d gone out with my girl friends, sorority girls and cheerleaders. All the guys had practically salivated for their attention. I found myself at the table each time watching purses and coats the whole night. I knew those guys were just vain and looking only at the shape of women, but it still stung. Those experiences were a big reason why I had started hanging out more with Michael after he’d tutored me in math. We were friends who eventually became lovers then found ourselves at the altar two years after graduation.

  My friend’s voice pulled me away from my musing.

  “Neither am I. Trust me, when you’re a thick Latina, the men aren’t exactly dragging you on the floor to salsa. Latin men like their women curvy,” Marisa made the hourglass silhouette with her hands, “but not necessarily curvy if you get me.” She ran a hand along her full hips.

  I laughed. “I get you, my friend.”

  “So, come on. Us two mujeres hermosas y gruesas paint the town black and brown.”

  I knew she said something about us being beautiful woman but the rest was lost to me. “Let me think about—”

  The ringing of my cell phone cut me off. Pulling it out of my blazer pocket, I checked the caller I.D. My son’s school name was displayed. “One sec, Marisa.” I pushed the answer tab on the screen. “Hello?”

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Strayer?”

  The voice on the other end of the phone was deep with the smoky timbre of a blues artist. It lit my core up like the Fourth of July, rocketing explosions through my body. Damn. I must be desperate if I’m getting worked up over the sound of a man’s voice.

  I started to fan myself and stopped when I noticed Marisa eyeing me curiously. “Yes.”

  He continued, “This is Mr. Cale calling from Queen City Angels Elementary School.”

  My heart started racing. “Is everything all right with Jason?”

  “Yes, Ms. Strayer, he is fine. I just wondered if you had a moment to meet after school today.”

  “And you are?” I wasn’t familiar with the name Cale.

  “His new teacher. You should have been sent a memo last week.”

  Smacking my palm against my forehead, I felt like the worst mother. How could I have forgotten that Ms. Lowen went into early labor with her twins and was projected to be away from school for the remaining two months? “That’s right. Sorry, work has been a little crazy.”

  “No explanations needed. I would just like to touch bases, can you make it?” he asked.

  “What time? I don’t get off work until four,” I informed him.

  “That’s fine. The Spring Musical is tonight so the front doors will be open.”

  “I’ll see you around four thirty.”

  “See you then,” he confirmed in that oh so sexy voice.

  “¿Qué pasa? Is Jason okay?” Marisa asked, concern etched into her features.

  Slipping my cell back into my pocket, I said, “He’s fine… I guess. There’s a new teacher and he said he wanted to just touch bases.”

  “Like a parent teacher conference?” Marisa tilted her head to the side.

  “I hope so. Jason has been through so much already, I just hope he’s not starting to act out in school or something. I can’t afford to send him to a therapist.” I was doing well in the last six months since I pulled myself out of debt and got this job as the executive secretary for the college president. I was building a nice cushion for a house in a year or two. If my son needed help I would tighten my belt and pay the high co-pay for him to receive specialty services, but it would be nice if I didn’t have to.

  “I understand. Look, call me later and let me know.” Marisa reached out and laid her hand on top of mine. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a strong little guy.”

  I gave Marisa a smile, thanking her for her words. “Well, let me get to work, since I’m going to have to be gone as soon as the clock strikes four.” Waving, I left.

  ~YH~

  By the end of the day, I was so ready to fill my belly with something good and sink chin deep in a bath. Thankfully, I could do just that since my brother Aaren and his fiancé, Kalan, were taking Jason to a Charlotte Knights game. It was the season opener. Aaren and Kalan were keeping him until Sunday afternoon.

  Now all I had to do was get through this meeting with my son’s teacher and I’d be good.

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled into a back parking space at
the elementary parochial school I’d enrolled my son in when we moved from upstate Maryland to Charlotte. The musical must be very popular since most of the spaces were filled. I felt like a bad member of the PTA not having supported the school and brought Jason out. Getting out of my car, I grabbed my purse from the passenger side and headed into the school.

  “Hello. Welcome to Spring Musical night.” Lonnet Douglas, a woman with short, blood red curls and brown eyes, the president of the PTA, greeted me at the door.

  I bit the side of my lip and winced, then said, “I’m actually not here for the event, I have a conference with Mr. Cale.”

  “Ah, you’re going to miss quite a show. All the donations tonight will go for new designs for the school t-shirt and a repainting of the angel mural on the school rock.” Her mouth pinched in at the corners, but somehow Lonnet still managed to keep the cheer in her voice like some Stepford Wife robot. “Any who, Mr. Cale is down at the end past the first grade hall; his is the last room on the right.”

  “Thanks.” I rushed away as other parents and kids filed in behind me. I heard Lonnet’s excitement as one family after another came for the show. Shaking my head, I thought about how much parents paid for enrollment at the private school. They shouldn’t need any donations. Being new to Charlotte, I had placed Jason here because the school had the top rating in academics and they ran a fantastic after school tutorial program to ensure all the kids excelled.

  With all the changes my son had in his young life, at times school had been a challenge for him and he’d started falling behind.

  My heels went from clicking to muted as I moved onto the hall of classes. Unlike when I had gone to elementary school, QCA didn’t have any colorful, artistic creations taped and clipped up on the wall outside of the classrooms. The walls were a pale yellow with framed photos of children learning, smiling or playing.

  Finally, I arrived at the designated room, which was two doors down from my son’s original classroom when he had Mr. Lowen. The door was open and there were the low tones of a song playing in the background, but what grabbed me before I knocked was the masculine voice over the artist singing the words.

  “…but ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.” He continued onto the next verse of the classic Bill Withers tune.

  I placed a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter. Not because he was bad, but because it was just unexpected. It was the same voice from the phone, but more melodic in the throes of the song.

  I got another shock when I leaned forward slowly, a fraction at a time, to get a peek at the karaoke singer. A white guy was sitting behind a short moon-shaped table. Not that I was narrow minded enough to think that only African-American people could sing Rhythm and Blues, but the taste of music didn’t seem to fit the man before me.

  Sexy as hell. But, he looked as if he should be coaching on a football field instead of cramped behind a too small table teaching kindergarten children.

  Short, thick black waves ran over his scalp and complemented the wide angles of his face as he leaned his head back, holding up a pencil like a microphone and belting out the lead in to the last line.

  “…I know, I know, I kno—”

  I must have made a sound because he broke off his lyrics and turned toward me. The full impact of his sea green gaze caused my breath to stop, my core to tighten and my knees to tremble and threaten to buckle.

  “Sorry, it’s my after school release.” Setting the pencil down, he rose and clicked a button on his computer, plunging the room into silence. Standing to his full height, he moved toward the door.

  Taking a quick breath, I worked to pull myself together. This man was my son’s teacher not a stud on the street to ogle. But, good Lord, he had to be six-two and built like a safety, lean but wide in the shoulders.

  I stepped forward and forced a smile on my quivering lips.

  “I’m Mr. Cale. You must be Mrs. Strayer.” He held his hand out as he approached me, but I didn’t miss the once over her gave my body. When his gaze met mine again, there was glow of appreciation that lit his gorgeous green eyes even more.

  Slipping my hand into his made me feel even smaller as his long, strong fingers enveloped mine. The warmth from the contact spread up my arm and felt like a caress through my body, making me stifle a sigh. I was five-seven, not short for a woman, but not tall either. Raised around my brother, I was used to feeling dwarfed, but standing before this man, I felt oddly protected. “Actually, it’s Ms. Reston-Strayer.”

  He continued to hold my hand and stare at me as if assessing my features.

  I had to draw my gaze from his face before I did something foolish. Looking down at our hands, still clasped, I gave mine a slight tug.

  “Oh, forgive me.” He released me quickly. “Come in, please.” Waving me to one of the small chairs on the other side of the half-moon table, he followed behind me.

  Once I was seated, he claimed his seat. Still looking awkward, he had to sit with his knees bent and his thighs spread wide to work in the tight space.

  I quickly told myself not to look down the V of his legs. The last thing I wanted was my son’s teacher to think I was a sex-depraved horn-dog, which was exactly how I felt with my body going haywire around him. To keep the temptation away, I gazed around the room. Unlike the barren, cold hallway, Mr. Cale’s classroom was lively and wallpapered with posters, drawings, paintings and sloppy pre-school script. I liked the man already. On a professional level, I reminded myself.

  “So, about Jason.” I faced him again.

  His gaze was locked on my face and he was frowning.

  “What?” I asked, touching my face. I didn’t think I had anything on it. I’d checked my make-up in the car before coming in, so that couldn’t be it. “It there something wrong?”

  “Forgive me, I must have been caught up in my thoughts.” He cleared his throat and looked down at the papers on the table and shuffled through them. “Jason. Jason.”

  He repeated my son’s name a couple times as if he’d forgotten the reason for his call to me.

  “Ah, here we go.” He pulled out a folder with JASON STRAYER written across the top. “We performed our third quarter benchmark testing this week.” Setting the paper down so that it was facing me, Mr. Cale continued, “As you can see, Jason's numbers started off kind of low in the fall at the beginning of the school year.” He moved his pencil tip along the various test scores. “This is the average for the state as well as our school in scoring, which I assume Mrs. Lowen showed you at that time.”

  “Yes, she did. Jason was enrolled in the after school mind-boosting program. And he improved,” I declared. I was finally starting to breathe easier. My job was going great, we had our place and things were looking up. I thought Jason was starting to adjust.

  “You’re correct.” He moved his pointer to the next column. “The way his scores leaped I would say this wasn’t because the tutors did an outstanding job. It was most likely that Jason already had the capability and was holding back.” His gaze met mine as he gave me a reassuring smile.

  I was locked on those lips. Deep mauve colored lips that were almost a little too full for a white guy, like Jensen Ackles. However, perfect for kissing and other—

  Shaking my head I killed the path my thoughts were leading. What kind of mother am I to be at a meeting about my child and mooning over his teacher? Get it together, Gabrielle.

  He shifted his gaze away from mine and stared at the paper as he spoke. “However…the reason I called you in is because of the spring testing results.” He shifted his hand to the third column. “Two days after Jason was placed in my room, we administered the spring assessments and you'll note here that Jason’s score dropped significantly. Even below his fall numbers.”

  My heart plummeted. Just when I thought Jason was all right. I could feel my eyes starting to burn and I felt the tremors within my belly. I took a deep breath, not wanting to cry. However, I wanted my son to be all right.

  Mr. Cale must h
ave picked up on my emotions, because he set his pencil down and covered one of my hands. “It’s not as bad as it seems, Ms. Strayer. Jason is not at risk of being retained in kindergarten.”

  The heat of his hand calmed my emotions in a way I couldn’t comprehend. As fortifying as his touch was I drew away. I could not start depending on someone again. After my husband’s death, I was a wreck. I didn’t know how to process the loss of my friend and confidant. This man before me was a stranger, my son’s teacher and those were very strong reasons not to accept his support. Even a touch.

  Sitting back in the tiny seat that barely came up to the center of my back, I folded my hands in my lap to suppress the urge of desiring his touch. “That’s good to know, but what can be done about the rollercoaster my son can’t seem to get off?”

  He leaned away as well and placed his hands on his knees, looking a little more comfortable than he did with his large frame scrunched toward the table. “I think Jason’s scoring reflects his internal emotions.”

  When I started to speak, Mr. Cale held a hand up.

  “My class and Ms. Lowen’s class interacted a lot and I noticed Jason coming more out of his shell during the school year. Particularly around Ms. Lowen.”

  “He connects to people very fast.”

  “Adults. However, not the other children. Mainly, I think that’s because kids play together in a mass of energy and as long as you’re also wild and crazy, everyone is in and having fun together. With Jason, it takes him a while to get comfortable so the other children have gone on to play when he’s still getting warmed up. When Ms. Lowen had to take the extended leave and Jason was placed in my class, he didn’t really know my students and my style was new to him, so he shut down.”

  “Jason lost his father a little over two years ago, and six months before that his grandparents who he was close to both passed away a day apart from each other. Then we moved down here months later.”