by Shara Lanel
“Here’s the shower. The towels are under the sink.”
Kerry tossed her duffel onto the floor. “Thanks,” she said, placing her hands on her hips.
For a moment, they stood face to face, inches apart in the small room. Rick listened to Kerry’s gentle breaths and gazed at her slightly parted lips, thinking about prodding them wider with his tongue so he could explore the wet heat of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. When she pressed her lips together, he imagined stroking the velvet skin with his thumb and planting delicate kisses at her jaw and behind her ears. She scowled.
Rick started as he realized she was waiting for him to leave. “I’ll just see you after, then.” He left, embarrassed that he’d wanted to stay and see her strip off all of her bulky layers. He really was in a bad state if he found a scrawny, possibly homeless woman attractive.
* * * *
Kerry felt sick to her stomach. She hated asking for such basic necessities from strangers, but she’d seen that look in his eye. Only once or twice. The look that said he wanted her, that he’d like to lay her on the floor and fuck her. He wasn’t obvious about it, but it was there. And no way did she want him to make a pass at her or even get near her until she’d showered.
And the hot water felt so good. Standing in the claw-footed porcelain tub, she slathered on shampoo and body wash three times before she felt completely fresh again. Then she dug in her duffel to see if she had anything clean to wear. Not really. For a moment, she smoothed the cover of Pride and Prejudice … The romance of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet had been the only thing to keep her sane during the weeks since she’d left California.
Well, this was not solving her clothing predicament, so, bringing the duffel with her, she ventured into his bedroom. Perhaps she could do a load of laundry while she was here. She would love to hand wash some of her designer clothes, but that required time for them to line dry, time that she might not have in this particular locale. Of course, money for a dry cleaner would be a dream come true.
Frowning, she opened the top drawer of Rick’s mahogany dresser and found a white robe, which she put on and belted. The terry fabric had a masculine scent—Rick’s scent. She pictured Rick in this robe, naked underneath, solid, muscular thighs exposed to her view. She shook the image away. She needed food to focus her thoughts, as they seemed to be wandering to the most dangerous of places.
Returning to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her hair. She hated the dull brown dye she’d applied in the San Diego Wal-Mart and her blonde roots were poking through. What she wouldn’t give for a facial and a haircut at a decent salon. If she were going to picture the impossible, she’d add in a manicure and pedicure and maybe even a Reiki massage. She closed her eyes and savored the idea. Then, feeling like a normal human for the first time in days, she opened her eyes and descended the stairs.
* * * *
Rick, who lounged on the couch channel flipping—another talent taught to him by his cousin—felt his mouth go dry as he watched Kerry descend the stairs in his white meditation robe. For comfort, he’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt, but now he felt less than comfortable. Kerry’s shapely legs peeked through the terry cloth fabric with each step and the lapels created a V that revealed luscious curves. Was she completely naked under there? She had to be. His palms actually itched with his desire to touch her. What would it be like to have a woman’s soft bare body against his for the first time?
Breathe in, breathe out, Rick reminded himself, not wanting his body to betray where his mind had wandered off to. Kerry perched on the edge of the couch, leaving plenty of space between them.
“I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your robe.”
“Not at all.” Rick found himself compulsively flipping the remote while staring at Kerry. He was very glad that she’d borrowed his robe. He’d never think of that robe in the same way again.
“Um, are you watching something in particular?”
Rick set the remote aside. “No—just the weather.” Heavy breathing and groans came from the TV.
“The weather, huh? Looks overcast.” Kerry offered a wry grin.
Another loud groan drew Rick’s eyes to the screen. “What are they doing?” He watched for a moment, paralyzed with a combination of shock and fascination as two impossibly busty women licked a man’s huge cock. Amazingly, the male actor’s shaft remained somewhat soft despite the attention, unlike Rick’s that pushed at the zipper of his jeans. When one set of crimson lips circled the head of the man’s penis and sucked, Rick gasped.
“Um, Rick, perhaps it would be more romantic without the TV?”
“Oh.” He blushed and quickly pressed the remote’s off button. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe they show that on the telly. I thought Evan was joking…”
“Not to be rude, but do you have some food … ice cream, pizza, cereal … anything?”
Rick jumped up. “I should have offered. I’m new to entertaining. I’ll make a salad.” He headed towards the kitchen, glad to escape. Behind him he heard Kerry saying “Salad?” as a question and he wondered what was odd about that.
* * * *
Kerry munched on her salad and wondered at Rick’s faux pas of setting the TV on the Playboy channel. Had it been intentional? Somehow Kerry didn’t think so. Rick was such a blend of contradictions. He was older than she—probably mid-thirties—with a developed body to match, but he seemed genuinely naïve about the ways of Western culture. On the other hand, he drove a BMW and dressed like a GQ model. How naïve could he be?
Kerry still felt conniving and dishonest, demanding his hospitality because it meant a measure of survival to her. She justified her actions, though, because she knew she would give him what he wanted in the end. Looking at the lean muscles in his forearms and his long fingers, his strong jaw and five o’clock shadow, she thought she could enjoy giving him what he wanted. Still, shame sat in her stomach taking away her appetite.
Debutante to hooker, how had it come to this?
Thinking about the only real hooker she’d ever met in her life brought her mind back to Jason. She had loved him once, almost as much as her parents had. He’d been charming and romantic, bringing her gifts of white roses and crystal ornaments. Once he’d brought her a music box with Cinderella and Prince Charming inside the glass. He’d bought it at Disneyland, he’d said, then he’d wound it up and swept her into a waltz.
Back then she had trusted him completely.
Setting her plate on the table, she leaned toward Rick and slid closer on the couch. The tie of the robe had loosened, deepening the V at her chest. She’d lost weight in the past month, but she had always been well-endowed and knew that she gave him an alluring view. She just wondered how well she would manage letting another man touch her after all that Jason had done.
* * * *
Rick found himself looking at the top of Kerry’s ample breasts. He could so easily brush aside the robe and take in the full view, but he doubted that was acceptable. He wanted to reach his hand in and feel that smooth, plump skin. He unconsciously leaned closer. His thigh touched hers. His penis was throbbing, and telling himself to breathe did not help. He lowered his hand down and found it on her bare knee. He could slide it along her thigh. Would she mind? Was she wearing anything under the robe? He had to find out. He swallowed.
This was his chance, he realized. He could, after thirty-five years, lose his virginity tonight. The carnal temptation of that thought raised the tempo of his heart.
He let his hand glide slowly up her leg, pushing back the robe as he went. He heard her breath catch and looked up to meet her eyes. Something about her eyes made him uncertain, so instead of letting his hands wander, he decided to kiss her. He lowered his lips and let them whisper against hers. Feathery soft.
He looked at her eyes again and found them closed, so he lowered his mouth and increased the pressure. She sighed and parted her lips. He let his mouth open also. Her tongue touched his teeth, t
raced them, then darted deeper. His heart raced. Soon his tongue was in her mouth, thrusting, tasting, twisting. Her lips closed around it and she sucked. Oh, God. Wetness leeched from the tip of his penis, reminding him of dreams he’d had about Inela, dreams where he’d woken to find his blanket and groin wet from bodily fluids. Those dreams had shamed him, but he had been a monk then. He wasn’t now.
He pulled back. This was going too fast. He’d waited all his life. He wanted to relish every moment, every sensation.
“Kerry,” he said. “I want to go slow. Do you mind?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Do you mean that?”
She shivered. “Yes.” The lids of her eyes were half closed and her lips looked swollen and pinker than before. Her flush ran from her cheeks to the swell of her breasts. Rick’s jeans felt unbearably hot, so hot that he wanted to strip out of them and rub his body all over hers. But then it would be over too fast. Take it slow, he reminded himself, standing without taking his eyes off of the inviting view.
*
When Rick stood, Kerry thought he meant to lead her to the bedroom. Instead, he said, “Wait,” and left the room. He returned shortly, with a rolled up mat. Taking her hand, he led her near the large bay windows. They were covered in sheer drapes that let the moonlight flow in and created a circle of light on the floor. He unrolled the mat and said, “Kneel on it.”
“What?”
“Please, sit on your knees.”
For a moment, Kerry flashed back to a time Jason had forced her to have sex. He’d kept his hands around her neck until he’d climaxed. She, on the other hand, hadn’t even been the slightest bit wet. She’d lain in bed in a fetal position, eyes wide-open, for the rest of the night.
Kerry met Rick’s gentle eyes. This was not Jason and she sensed that he could never be like Jason, so she obeyed, curious to find that she trusted him. Wanted him.
Rick stepped behind her and lowered himself to his knees. She felt his breath on her neck as he touched her shoulders with his hands, gently drawing the robe open. His hands slid along her neck. Her pulse throbbed against his fingers, which traced her jaw, her cheeks, combed through her hair. His hands slipped past her collarbone down her chest. His fingers stopped on the curve just above her taut nipples.
She waited breathlessly for his touch. She grew wet between her legs as he pressed his body to her back, letting her feel his erection still encased in snug jeans. Holding his fingers just above her nipples, he lowered his lips to her nape and brushed her skin. Kerry hummed encouragingly. She leaned back and he responded by melding his body to hers. His breathing sounded ragged.
“Oh, Lord,” he whispered, finally sliding his fingers along the peaks of her nipples. His fingers circled slowly, then pressed, then pinched.
Kerry moaned. His thumb and forefinger gently twisted each nipple first one way then the other. He nibbled her ear lobe, then tasted the skin between her shoulders. The robe slid lower. He cupped her breasts, then slid his hands over her stomach.
“Inela,” he said. He gasped and froze for a moment, and Kerry thought he was going to stop. What was the word he had said? An Indian endearment perhaps? But then his fingers combed through the triangle of hair at her mons and lower where he found her wetness, and thought fled.
She wanted to reach around and undo his clothes, to feel his skin against her, the swollen length of his shaft caressing her spine. And, yet, the soft cotton shirt and rough denim against her back was somehow erotic too. She heard him take a deep breath and slowly exhale as his fingers explored the damp folds of flesh between her legs.
Kerry couldn’t believe she was letting him do this, but, God, it felt good.
“Rick,” she said as his hand cupped her completely. He let his fingers explore, sometimes fumbling, sometimes finding just the right spot.
Without turning around, Kerry said, “Let me undress you.”
Rick inhaled deeply and his hot breath fanned along her sensitive skin. “Tell me what you like. What am I doing right?” He let one hand return to tease her nipples while his other hand rocked, fingered, fondled, pushed her to the brink of ecstasy.
“I like it all.” She slid her fingers over his and directed them to the perfect spot. A low keening sound escaped her throat. Before she knew what was happening, her body arched against his and she lost herself in sensation as a bone liquefying orgasm rippled through her.
She’d never come so fast and completely before in her life. Rick’s strong arms supported her against his chest as she went limp. She felt like crying, just to complete the release. Rick cradled her against him. No insults, no recriminations, he seemed happy just to hold her. Perhaps just an illusion brought on by her sexual satisfaction, but she refused to let her rational mind click in—for now at least.
*
Rick chastised himself for speaking Inela’s name even as he marveled at what his hands could do to this woman who now lay restful in his arms.
“Did that feel good?” he asked, trying to be objective though he wanted to keep going.
“Did it feel good?” Kerry laughed. “Oh, my God!”
“That’s a yes, then?”
“Yes.” She finally turned to face him. They remained on their knees, the robe pooled near hers while he was still fully clothed. “Let me touch you.”
He wanted her to touch him. He was fully erect, the tip of his penis pressing against the rough fabric of his pants, but guilt overwhelmed him. Instead of focusing on Kerry, as she deserved, his mind kept jumping back to India. Inela had been his friend, nothing more, so how could he say her name at a time like this?
Kerry rubbed her hand along his hard ridge and he groaned. She unsnapped his jeans and lowered the zipper.
Finding his voice, Rick said, “No.”
“No? You do that to me and you don’t want me to return the favor?”
Rick did, his body demanded it, but he couldn’t shake the vision of Inela that had suddenly popped into his mind, a vision as he’d last seen her—dead on the floor of her shanty, strangulation marks around her neck.
He also refused to admit to Kerry that he wasn’t sure exactly what to do. He realized he should’ve put aside manly pride and gotten the basics from Evan, or perhaps he could have watched one of those shows he had glimpsed tonight. He wanted his first time to be perfect, not fumbling and embarrassing.
“Um, maybe I should take you home now?” Caught up in his own confusion, he forgot once again that Kerry likely had no home to go to.
“What?” Kerry stared at him a moment, then reached down to pull his robe around her shoulders. She hurried to her feet. “Is this how you get your kicks?”
Her high-pitched voice combined with her open-mouthed expression confused him. “What do you mean?”
“You touch women, but don’t let them touch you?”
Rick shook his head and stood. “No. Weren’t you pleased?” He knew he sounded distant. He knew Kerry was getting the wrong impression of him. He should tell her the truth and ask her to teach him. Would she be willing? She seemed so.
“I can’t believe you want me to leave now.”
“No, Kerry, you can stay, or I can drive you somewhere.”
“I can walk, just let me get my stuff, and, no, don’t offer to walk with me. I live very near here.” She stomped up the stairs and returned wearing the same baggy clothes she’d had on before.
Rick wanted to touch her, taste her, but he’d screwed up. “Kerry, I’d like to take you out on a real date or cook for you. Romance, you know.”
“In my life, there’s no room for romance.” Kerry shook her head. “Maybe I did pick the wrong cousin!” She was out the door and stalking down the sidewalk before he could stop her.
He stepped onto the front stoop barefoot. “Kerry, let me walk you!”
“Absolutely not. I’m just up the block.” She marched on. Rick trained his eyes on her until she seemed to go into a building and disappear.
Was she telling
the truth then, that she lived nearby? That didn’t seem right. Finally, he went inside, berating himself for his rash actions, and deciding he needed a long cold shower.
CHAPTER THREE
Kerry sat on a dark stoop and debated what to do. She clearly needed a plan of action. She could no longer deny that she was homeless. She needed a job, but to get a job, she needed a place to shower and launder her clothes, or money to use at a Laundromat. She would probably need a suit to interview in and possibly a resumé. This all made logical sense and seemed a workable plan, but sitting in the dark on a stranger’s front steps, with no bed to sleep in and no food to eat, she couldn’t even fathom where to begin.
Picking up a guy to stay with had seemed workable also, but obviously the complications were the guys themselves. Strangers who may not want her to stay the night, who may have weird fetishes, who may actually be dangerous—murderers even—like Jason.
Were there organizations in Richmond that offered help to someone like her, a place to shower and wash her clothes if not sleep? She started walking and turned up the alley. She vaguely recollected a couch somewhere. Maybe she could at least get some more sleep. If someone called the cops, would they take her to a warm cell and feed her, or would they just kick her with a boot and tell her to move on? With her luck, it would be the latter.
* * * *
Rick locked his front door and headed for Monument Avenue’s tree-lined median for his morning jog. Barefoot as usual, he caused several dog walkers to turn and stare. Evan joined him after he’d run a mile.
“So explain to me again what happened? You had the girl practically naked, but you still didn’t do the deed?” Evan shook his head. “Why the hell not?”
Rick picked up the pace. “Everything was working properly.” He sighed. “I just didn’t want to do it wrong.” And he didn’t want Inela haunting his thoughts while he was making love with Kerry.
