by Sally Apple
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
HIGH SCORE
ISBN # 1-4199-0182-6
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
HIGH SCORE Copyright© 2005 Sally Apple
Edited by Pamela Cohen.
Cover art by Syneca.
Electronic book Publication: March 2005
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Warning:
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.
X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
High Score
Sally Apple
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Harley: Harley-Davidson Motor Co., Inc.
Honda Civic: American Honda Motor Co., Inc.
Chevy Suburban: General Motors Corporation
Toyota Spyder: Toyota Motor Sales, U.S.A., Inc.
Velcro: Velcro Industries B.V.
Chapter One
The velvet darkness, softened by small dim lights far above, insulated her like a thick, smothering blanket. Shelley Flynn hung headfirst over the antique wood-carved spanking chair, her hips higher than her torso.
Large, strong hands slid her skirt up her thighs and spread her knees to strap them in place. Cool air from an invisible ceiling fan flowed gently between her legs. Straining against the knee and wrist straps let her know she wasn’t going anywhere soon. Never had she felt more helpless and vulnerable.
Her cheek pressed against the cushioned headrest. A strange lethargy crept up her limbs and pervaded her body. What had become of her usual inhibitions, her resistance? She felt paralyzed or drugged.
“You can scream if you want,” he said softly. “The basement is completely soundproof.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, great! I can scream if I want.
The sound of his retreating footsteps, followed by muted thumps, scrapes, and rattles, told her he was busy arranging something for her pleasure. Shortly, his disembodied voice placed him directly behind her.
“I may fuck you later, but first you get the spanking I promised.” He rather indolently stroked her slit a few times with his finger and briefly explored the entrance to her vagina. “Oh, yes. You’re fairly gushing. I knew you’d love this.”
Abruptly, he withdrew his hand. “Prepare yourself.”
During that eternal breathless moment, during which she anticipated a stinging blow from the quirt, her mind grappled with second thoughts and regrets, searching for the exact place in time when she had made a wrong turn and ended up here in the clutches of this man. Like most strange twists in her life, fate had been decided on the morning of a seemingly ordinary day. It all started while shopping with her best friend Rita Malone.
Shelley paused inside the door of the Bower of Bliss, gazing at the displays of sexy lingerie. “Who, besides strippers and adult video stars, wears this stuff?”
“For someone who’s getting married in two weeks, you are sadly lacking in the trousseau department.” Rita scooped up a shopping basket on her way to the first display. “You don’t even have anything special to wear on your honeymoon.”
Shelley trailed along. “Better buy me a pair of mukluks, then, because we’re spending Sunday at the ski lodge. Then we’ve got to rush back home that night so we can get up early for work on Monday.”
Rita flashed an impatient look over her shoulder. “Whatever. I’m still going to buy you something sexy. On the safe side, I think you’d better pick it out. That way, I can be reasonably sure you’ll actually wear it for Dickie.”
Shelley had met Richard “Dickie” Gillet at a party hosted by Rita and her husband, Skeeter, several months before. Shelley, worn out from being hit on by all the scuzzy men she met, responded to Dickie’s gentleness and good manners. They had dated exclusively from that night on, and a month ago he had proposed. Rita, her closest friend since high school, had promptly scheduled a wedding shower.
“How about this little number?” Rita asked, holding up a bright red bodysuit edged with ruffles.
“It’s not me,” Shelley said. While red set off Rita’s long, dark hair, it seemed too gaudy for her own short blonde hair and hazel eyes.
Rita eyed her appraisingly. “Yeah, with your figure, you’d look better in an elegant gown cut down to here.”
Shelley took the garment and examined it more closely. “Wait! This has no crotch!”
“You don’t need one. Not for your honeymoon.” Rita held the bodysuit against her body. “I wonder if Skeeter would like me in red or black?”
“Lord! Why bother to wear anything at all?”
“Shelley, you don’t get it. It’s all about tantalizing your man. You hide parts of yourself and expose other parts—it drives ‘em nuts. Hey, look at these edible panties! Wouldn’t Dickie love these?”
“No!” Shelley glanced around, nervous that someone would overhear her companion’s enthusiastic suggestions. For such a petite woman, Rita sure had a big mouth! Shelley escaped to look through a rack of shimmering nightgowns several yards away.
Rita caught up. “Did I tell you that Skeeter is planning a bachelor party for Dickie?”
“No. When?”
“Next Saturday. I heard Skeeter talking on the phone about it. He wanted to schedule it for the night before the wedding, but Dickie didn’t want a hangover the next day. So they’re holding it a week before. They’re hiring a stripper.”
“A stripper?” Shelley frowned. “Dickie’s not going to go for that.”
“Really? It didn’t sound that way from what I heard.”
“Come on!” Shelley protested. “Dickie’s very shy, and he has strong morals.”
“All the guys are chipping in on the deluxe package. She’s going to spend the night.”
“What for? It shouldn’t take her all night to strip!”
Rita chortled.
Shelley squelched her mirth with a narrow-eyed look. “Are you trying to tell me Skeeter and his friends want to arrange something like a…a gang bang?”
“Not exactly.”
A chill settled over Shelley. “What’s the idea then?”
Rita uncharacteristically lowered her voice. “She’s a high-price call girl. The guys want to help Dickie get a real education.”
“What?”
“Well…you know. Skeeter told me about the arrangement
you and Dickie— Oh, never mind.” Rita turned and wended her way through the narrow aisle toward the front of the store.
“Wait!” Shelley demanded, rushing after her. “What arrangement? What did Dickie tell him?”
Rita nervously dug through a bin of flimsy items. “Oh, look at these darling thongs! And they’re on sale, too! I’m getting some!”
Shelley grabbed her arm. “Rita, what has Dickie been saying about us?”
Hesitantly, Rita turned toward her. “He told Skeeter that you two decided to wait until your honeymoon to…you know. Do anything.”
“That’s our private business! But if you must know, Dickie wanted to wait, and I agreed.”
“Fine.” Rita said. “All I’m saying is that Dickie seems to have had second thoughts. Now he’s worried about looking like a dork on your honeymoon.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! What does he have to be afraid of? It’s not like he’s a virgin. After all, he spent four years at the university, and you know how college guys are.” Shelley kept her voice low, though she trembled with indignation. “I thought the whole point of waiting was so we could experience each other for the first time. I don’t want him to sleep with some prostitute before he sleeps with me!”
“Don’t be so hard on him,” Rita said, tossing several colorful thongs into her shopping basket to join the two sheer bodysuits. “He’s probably suffering from performance anxiety. It’s very common.”
“Of all the dirty rotten tricks!” If Shelley had a pet peeve, it was double standards. She hated when society vilified women for doing the same things that men got away with. Everybody seemed to approve of men sowing wild oats, calling them studs and playboys, while equally liberated women were called trashy sluts. “How would he feel if I went out and got laid before the wedding?”
“Shelley—”
“I mean it! How would he feel if we hired male strippers for the party, and found a hunk to instruct me in the finer points of sex?”
Rita gazed soberly at Shelley. “I’m sorry I said anything.”
“That’s your idea of loyalty to your best friend? Keeping secrets? Boy, am I having revelations here, right and left!”
“Don’t worry about Dickie. He loves you! He’s not going to do anything to jeopardize your marriage. Sex with prostitutes doesn’t mean that much to men.”
“And what, pray tell, does it mean to women?” Shelley asked. “If the shoe is on the other foot, I mean. Committing adultery?”
“Hmm, is it called adultery if you’re not married yet? Hey, don’t give me that look. I’m just asking…”
“I don’t know what they call it, but it ain’t faithfulness!” Shelley turned away. “Let’s get out of here. I’m not in the mood for shopping.”
“Wait! I haven’t paid for these yet.”
“Well, hurry up. I’ll wait for you outside.”
When Rita joined her on the sidewalk, Shelley was eyeing the small restaurant next door. “Do you suppose they serve wine in there?”
“Maybe. Do you want a drink?”
“I need a drink.” Shelley strode to the restaurant door and pushed her way through.
After two glasses of wine and twenty minutes of small talk, Shelley felt less ready to explode.
“I’m sorry you got upset,” Rita said after a particularly long silence. “But shooting the messenger won’t help.”
Shelley took a deep, calming breath. “I’m sorry I took it out on you. It just came as a shock that’s all. I never thought Dickie would set me up like that. The double-crosser!”
“I see your point, Shelley, believe me.”
“I don’t want any fancy lingerie for my honeymoon.”
“Okay.” Rita sounded disappointed.
“Instead, I want you to hire a male stripper and throw me an honest-to-God bachelorette party.”
Rita’s eyes widened. “Serious?”
Shelley idly tapped pink lacquered nails on the tabletop. “Now, where would we find male strippers?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” Rita grinned with what looked like anticipation. “And if you really want to get even with Dickie, I know what else we can do.”
“No, I’m not doing this to get even,” Shelley said grimly. “I wouldn’t lower myself to getting revenge. I just want to have fun like everybody else. And while I’m at it, I might as well bone up on my sex education.”
Rita chuckled. “Bone up? I haven’t heard that expression in decades.”
“Unfortunate choice of words. But you know what I mean.”
“You’re referring to reading a book about sex, I suppose? Because I haven’t a clue where to find a male prostitute.”
“Of course, a book! And not one those namby-pamby manuals from the library or the bookstore. I want to learn all about advanced sex techniques. The down and dirty facts. On my honeymoon, I plan to show Dickie something he’ll remember.”
“Well, let’s see… There’s an adult store not far from here called High Score. I’ve sort of been wanting to check that place out myself.”
Shelley tossed back the last of her wine and wiped her mouth on a napkin. “Perfect! Let’s go.”
Fueled by a mixture of wrath, determination, and cheap house wine, Shelley paid the bill and led the way out to where she had parked her white Toyota Spyder.
“You should have let me buy the wine,” Rita protested, hurrying to keep up with Shelley’s long strides. “I wanted this to be your special day.”
“You want to give me a special day? You can throw me the wildest bachelorette party ever.”
* * * * *
Shortly before 11:00 a.m., Thor Ryersson flipped the OPEN sign in the front window of his shop, High Score. He stepped behind the counter, returning to the ledger and the stack of invoices that needed organizing. God, he hated paperwork!
Several minutes later, the bell jangled over the door announcing his first customer of the day.
His cousin entered with girlfriend in tow.
“Hey, Joe!” Thor greeted him.
“Hey, big guy! How’s it hangin’?”
Thor grinned. “Straight and true. Hi, Dot.”
The petite dark-haired woman smiled and waggled her fingers at him.
“Hey, I just got a dozen new videos in.” Thor gestured toward the display halfway down the far aisle.
“Oh, yeah?” Dot’s eyes brightened, and she hurried in that direction.
Joe shuffled toward Thor with a morose expression. “I been really cleaning house with the Bad Boys. The money’s pouring in.”
“That’s great!” Thor still couldn’t get used to seeing his redneck cousin in a suit and tie. The kid’s unkempt red hair and freckles made him look as though he ought to be running a farm or a landscaping business. He didn’t quite fit the image of a manager of a troupe of male strippers. “So what’s wrong? Sounds like they’re a success.”
“I got you to thank,” Joe said, leaning one elbow on the countertop.
“Glad to be of help.” Thor closed the ledger he’d been working on and stowed it under the counter. He found a key and unlocked his cash register. He was ready for business.
Joe sighed. “You made it look easy. It would’ve taken me weeks to develop the contacts you’ve got and to arrange bookings around here.”
“Nothing to it really. You can do the same.”
“It may seem that way to you, but with your experience in the field— Hey, am I interrupting anything? I don’t want to bug you if you’re busy.”
Thor, scratching idly at his beard, studied the messy layer of invoices scattered on the countertop. “Hell, don’t worry about that. I always put off doing paperwork until it comes out my ears. I hate it!” He swept the papers into a file folder. “Oh, well. There’s always tomorrow.”
“So, why’d you ever quit the talent management business?” Joe asked. “Over in Denver, you had it made. You were booking big names in places that won’t give me the time of day.”
“Yeah
, well…” Dredging up unpleasant memories was the last thing Thor felt like doing. “It got too crazy. I’m a simple man, and I realized I needed a simple life.”
Yeah, right!
At least, it sounded better than the truth. Moving to the small community of Loveland a few miles from Denver had given him the chance to make a new start and forget how rotten people in the entertainment business could be.
Joe asked, “What ever happened to your partner?”
Now why is Joe suddenly curious about that double-dealer? Thor’s shrug served as a silent answer.
“The reason I’m asking…”
The beseeching expression in Joe’s eyes put Thor on the alert. “Yeah?”
“I was just thinking…” Joe’s quick smile was overly bright. “I wondered if you’d like to be my partner managing the Bad Boys.”
“Your partner!”
“Yeah. You see, I don’t have the background you have in managing talent, but I’m willing to do my share of the grunt work. We could take the Bad Boys on tour and make both of us rich.”
“Sorry, Joe. I can’t right now. I’ve got the store to run.”
“I know, but—”
“Hey, Joe!” Dot waved a colorful tape box in the air. “He’s got Sweet Stuff number four!”
“Really?” Joe glanced over his shoulder at Dot, but remained slouched against the counter. “Okay, Thor. I’ll tell you what. Let’s swap. Your store for my contract with the Bad Boys.”
Thor laughed.
“Seriously,” Joe insisted. “I’m out of my league with this. Once I run out of bookings here, I don’t know where to go with the Boys.”
“You’ll get the hang of it.”
“I don’t think so. I tried for months to break into the best nightspots in Vegas, San Francisco, LA, and Seattle. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Success doesn’t happen overnight. You have to give it time.”
“Joe!” Dot called. “Ask Thor if we can go in back and watch this video.”
