At the Lake 1
Dizzy’s Story
Dizzy Benson is a free-spirited woman who follows her own path.
Her hair looks like it has been styled with a tornado, and she is short and chunky. But she is also brilliant and owns her own company.
Dizzy is looking for someone special to share herself and life with, someone big and hunky and rich enough that she doesn’t have to worry about being taken for her money. She meets Jon Drake, a real estate broker with a killer smile. He certainly doesn’t look like a man who would come on to a woman bigger than a size zero, but he sees Dizzy and decides she would be just what he wanted, smart, independent, and sexy as hell.
They find out that they have much more in common than either one of them dreamed. Jon has a “special” surprise for Dizzy, and she loves it. When his brother arrives unexpectedly, Jon and Dizzy have a healing birthday gift for him.
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre Length: 20,805 words
DIZZY’S STORY
At the Lake 1
Lynn Ray Lewis
MENAGE AND MORE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage and More
DIZZY’S STORY
Copyright © 2013 by Lynn Ray Lewis
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-172-5
First E-book Publication: January 2013
Cover design by Christine Kirchoff
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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DEDICATION
To my favorite critics. I can always count on you for the truth.
DIZZY’S STORY
At the Lake 1
LYNN RAY LEWIS
Copyright © 2013
Chapter 1
Dizzy was in the best mood of her thirty-three years. Last night had been wonderful, and she wanted to talk about it with someone.
Her best friend Jane was at the bar last night, but maybe she would come over and chat for at least a little while. It was just after 9:00
a.m., and Dizzy felt like she was going to burst if she didn’t talk this out with someone. Her body still felt like it was humming from last night’s activities. She wasn’t used to falling so hard and so fast like this. It had been years since she allowed herself to be picked up in a bar and went home with a guy on the same night she first met him, and that had only been one time when she was nineteen. Even for someone who considered herself very independent, that was something Dizzy would not normally do.
Jane would be able to talk sense into her when she needed it. She was the voice of reason when it came to other people’s relationships.
Dizzy hoped that Jane would tell her to keep seeing Jon. But she was pretty certain her friend would tell her to “enjoy the man but don’t hang your heart on him.” That was Jane’s usual advice for her friends who thought they had found the man of their dreams.
When Jane groggily answered the phone with the words “this better be good or a disaster,” Dizzy apologized for waking her up.
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Then she bribed her with “coffee, hot, cream-laced coffee.” Jane promised to come over as soon as she got her clothes on.
She showed up in a baggy pair of shorts and a ratty old T-shirt.
Dizzy smiled at the flip-flops on Jane’s feet and the old-time scrunchy holding the long blonde hair on the top of her friend’s head.
The girls were settled after getting the coffee and Dizzy had thoughtfully made toast. Jane could tell that it was not from a need to be a good hostess. Dizzy was wound up tighter than normal, and she needed something to do to keep herself from bouncing off the walls.
She started yacking the minute Jane came in, and Jane had to hold up her hand and give her the owl-eyed look, croaking, “Coffee,” before allowing any further talk.
“Okay, now what has you so fired up this early in the morning?”
Jane sipped the hot, heavenly, caffeine-laced coffee and prepared to be regaled with Dizzy’s news. “And I am warning you, this better be worth interrupting my sleepin. I worked closing last night and then did a load of laundry.”
Dizzy sat in front of Jane with her hands clasped together and began her tale. Jane choked on her toast when she heard, “I fucked a guy with the most amazing cock, and he was the best fuck I ever had.
I think I am in love!” Dizzy gushed about the man. He was so smart, he was so knowledgeable, and he was the best thing since sex was invented. Yadda yadda.
Jane had a hard time believing what she was hearing. Dizzy did not brag about a man. She would talk about sexual escapades but never actually brag about fucking a guy, miracle cock or not. Jane lived vicariously through her friend’s sex life. In her experience men either wanted a sugar momma or they thought they were studs in bed.
So far she had not found a man that fulfilled her needs sexually or mentally. She had given up looking for that “special” man. She had already looked for that elusive satisfaction everywhere she thought he might be hiding. Now Dizzy had found what sounded like the perfect specimen of manhood. Lucky bitch.
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Dizzy told her that she had been trolling The Club last night while Jane was busy working behind the bar. Jane had not even noticed Dizzy was there. She chose a high table back in the corner so she could scope out the clientele and would know if a man came in with another woman, and she took note of who was drinking too heavily for her evening’s purposes. “I always watch before I try to connect with a guy. I am not looking for a drunk or a druggie to drain my bank account, you know. I am smarter than I look.” She grinned. Jane knew what Dizzy did. Dizzy was a free-spirited type of gal who was not afraid to go after someone who interested her. She refused to even talk to a man that came in with another woman or had a telltale white ring around his finger where a wedding band had been a few hours before.
She was not one of the baby dolls that would normally slink into The Club, and she was proud of the fact. Her hair would never be curly or considered sexy. It was white-blonde, cut short, and laid straight as a board. She liked to spike it like that famous bleached-blonde chef on the Food Network. She was known to say that she was
“gifted” early. At age twelve her breasts were already in a C cup.
Now at the ripe age of thirty-three, they were in the doubleD range and heavy. Her waist was at least smaller than her wide hips but not by much. She knew that wearing a G-string would be a joke. No one would see the strings unless they looked between her small rolls of chubby.
Dizzy was a tactile creature. Whether fabric, skin, or food, if it felt good, she was all over it. Her personality was bubbly, and many people made the mistake of underestimating her intelligence. She was a business owner and had two diplomas, one from UCLA and one from WMU, one in chemistry and the other in business. At thirty-three she had all the material possessions she wanted and had worked Dizzy’s Story
11
like a dog for the rewards of her independent lifestyle. Lately she was looking for a more permanent situation. She was looking for her happily ever after.
While she was checking out a table of men, someone walked up to her table on the back side. She jumped a bit when a man’s voice asked if he could join her. She turned and looked at the man, who was seating himself in the chair closest to her. Her surprise must have shown on her face when he gave her a slow, sexy smile. He was not her usual type of man. He was not tall and hulking. He was slender but thankfully not skinny. He was probably two inches taller than she was, and that put him at five eight or so. Men like this guy did not come on to women like her. His face had what she would call that fallen-angel look, beautiful, large blue eyes and lips worth giving a woman fantasies about them pleasuring her body all over. He had dark hair, and his beard was dark and thick looking. The kind of man who had to shave twice a day or rasp a woman’s flesh red.
He confused her. Men like him did not hit on slightly overly curvy, medium-height blondes that looked like someone stuck their hair in an eggbeater. So she asked him the normal “Hi, how are you?”
questions and answered his questions in return. His name was Jon Drake. He was a real estate broker and specialized in commercial properties. By her estimation of the cost of his clothes, she knew he must be successful at it. Those garments were not purchased at the local Walmart. When the waitress came to take their orders, he ordered a longneck Miller and she ordered her usual Canadian Club on the rocks. His eyebrow raised when the waitress discreetly passed Dizzy two notes and then walked off. “Problems?” he asked as she turned the papers in her fingers and narrowed her eyes at him.
She looked a bit red in the face when she read the notes from two different people. One was from the waitress herself, with her name and phone number. If she were not talking to a beautiful specimen of manhood, she might have been flattered by the waitress’s actions.
Dizzy never got mad when a few women mistook her for a lesbian.
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After all, she did not exactly dress like a party girl. Wearing tiny short skirts with her figure was just asking for ridicule. Her skirts were always around five inches above her knee and usually had a slit on the side if the skirt was tight. Her chest was a matter of fact, and if she tried to cover the twins up completely she would look thirty pounds heavier. So she wore blouses that framed the curves of her breasts.
Men rarely introduced themselves to her eyes first, anyway. However, the other note pertained to her companion. “Do you know a Lila?”
He looked around for the woman in question. She was glaring at him from the middle of the room, and Dizzy could see that not only was the woman mad at him, her mouth trembled as if she were holding back tears.
“The note says she needs to talk to you privately and would I mind. I have to tell you I am not happy with the situation.” She glared at the stranger. “I am not going to get in a bitch fight over a man I just met, Jon, so you need to tell me what’s going on here or you need to go talk to her.”
His jaw tightened, and he swung his gaze on Dizzy. “She and I were an item back in September. She has been stalking me since I broke up with her for cheating on our relationship. And no, I do not want to talk with her or see her. I really want to know you.” He let the anger go from his gorgeous blue eyes and gave her a smile from those sexy lips. “How about we go somewhere else and talk?”
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Chapter 2
She agreed and picked up her purse, allowing him to take her hand and lead her out of The Club. She had taken a cab to The Club because she knew she might be drinking too much to be a safe driver later in the night. He led her to his car. It was a Hummer, and he had to give her a boost to get into the passenger side. Well, if she was truthful, she could have used the step provided and the grab bar to get in on her own, but why, if she could feel a man’s strength while he assisted her? She smiled to herself, thinking how pitiful it was she had fallen into a cheap thrill. That slender body was all muscle. Her hands grasped his arms when he half lifted her into the vehicle. He didn’t get those muscles from selling real estate. The chivalry made her feel very feminine and petite. She thought she could get used to that feeling.
They drove around the city, and he talked about some of his clients without mentioning names. He asked her what she did, and they discussed her business, and she had him laughing out loud with her trials and tribulations of manufacturing and marketing her own line of bath and cosmetics products. She confessed about developing a new cream for hiding age spots, she had tried to use the stuff on a brown mole on her own skin and it had burned a hole around the mole, leaving the skin around the mole raw and blistered. But the mole was fine, standing proudly like a little brown island in a sea of red, blistered skin. “It was embarrassing to go to the hospital to get a shot to counteract my own formula.”
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He shared a story about screwing up one of his first deals selling warehouse space. He shook his head as he reminisced about “the early days.”
They discussed their favorite foods and movies and found that neither of them were fans of horror flicks. Sushi was bait to Dizzy, and he loved the stuff. She liked chocolate, and he was a caramel lover. His favorite dog was a poodle. She laughed at the picture that popped into her mind of the very masculine man walking a mincing little dog until he corrected her and told her it was a standard poodle that he was referring to. She liked big, solid dogs like yellow Labradors, but since she was working all the time with chemicals and stuff she couldn’t have a dog with her at work, and it would be unfair of her to cage a dog all day for sometimes twelve hours at a time. He told her that he frequently flew out of state, twice a month, and sometimes liked to vacation in Italy. She loved Germany. The people were mostly, nice and the country was really not much different than the scenery right here.
Dizzy learned that Jon was thirty-four years old and that he had a younger half brother named Rob that lived in Florida for now. Jon kept up the talk about his little brother,
and Dizzy found herself envious of the love and companionship that the two brothers obviously shared.
Finally he asked her if she would spend the rest of the night with him. Dizzy considered him for a long minute and agreed. She wanted to know him in every way. They had so much in common that she wanted to learn more. Like a greedy kid in a candy aisle, she wanted to know how each facet of this wonderful man tasted.
The house was beautiful. She was not crazy about the gated atmosphere of the suburb, but she did understand that some people needed the security and peacefulness such a place provided. His home sat on a cul-de-sac and was one of only two homes on that street. He led her into the kitchen through the garage door, and she fell in love with the gleaming room. Stainless-steel appliances were everywhere.
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The countertops were granite, and the warm gray tone was a perfect foil for the satin-finish stainless. Her hands wanted to explore every nook and drawer of the room.
He took her hand and led her into his living room, urging her to sit on the low, overstuffed leather couch. The furnishings in this room were an invitation to sit back and relax. And that is just what Dizzy did, kicking her shoes off and curling her legs up next to her so her body leaned toward him when he sat close. His arm curled around her and pulled her closer, and when he got her close, his fingers trailed up and down the side of her breast. A finger seeking mischief rasped across her nipple and then retreated to continue trailing around the side of her breast. His full lips grazed her mouth, and he drew back a bit before continuing to ask her if she was okay with this.
“I know this sounds like a line, but for some reason I really want to know how we are together. I feel so…connected? With you. If that makes any sense.” Dizzy pushed herself into his kiss and laid her body across his lap, her arms holding his head to her while they drowned each other in full-out face fucking. His tongue slid through her teeth and stabbed at her throat, and her lips puckered tightly to squeeze his tongue like her body would squeeze his cock. His hands were filled with her full breasts, and he applied pressure to the fleshy globes, squeezing and releasing. Then his finger and thumb pinched her nipple. The pressure and then squeeze got firmer as her breathing became labored. The pinching became almost painful, yet she loved the feeling.
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