What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9)

by Kristine Cayne

  “Neither am I.”

  Darla looked down at her robe, skimpy and wispy compared to Connie’s thick, terrycloth floor duster. “You’re more covered up in that than most women on the streets these days. Even some nuns.”

  “Knock it off,” Connie grumbled. “We’re both being silly. I’m going to open that door and tell our guest that we are not interested in whatever religion he or she is representing. You’re welcome to see for yourself.”

  But as Connie padded the short trek to the front door, Darla at her heels, she felt her legs gradually wobble into gelatin. Funny how convinced she was last night that the game had a hold on reality, but here she was trying to disprove it. She should have been excited at the prospect of a gorgeous hunk ringing for her at Darla’s condo, yet the notion frightened her. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with the world that these strange coincidences were happening?

  Besides, what if it wasn’t a handsome hunk at the door? What if there truly were computer dating gods whom had been angered by their antics, and as retribution they sent some drooling, fanged demon to dispatch them from the planet to be cast into video Hell?

  Now you’re just being really silly, Connie told herself. A demon wouldn’t ring the doorbell, he would simply crash through the front door.

  Really, really silly, Con.

  A third chime. “Yeah, yeah,” Connie sighed, and yanked open the door without first checking the peephole…

  …to see two incredibly soft blue eyes smiling back at her. They weren’t pixelated eyes, either.

  “Hello there,” greeted the blond hunk with the chiseled arms and tight jeans standing on Darla’s welcome mat.

  Connie’s gaze panned south to the bulge at the man’s zipper. No, there was nothing miniature about that, either.

  “Sorry to have bothered you so early,” the man was saying, “but…”

  “Mark,” Connie blurted out, and the man’s smiled faded.

  “Come again?” he asked.

  “Give her a minute.”

  Connie turned. She hadn’t realized Darla was standing right behind her, practically breathing down her neck. Darla’s smile displayed bemusement, her eyes a touch of fright. Connie tried to ignore her to focus on their equally confused visitor.

  “How do you know my name is Mark?” he said. “Er, I only just moved in. Was there a complex newsletter or something I missed announcing my arrival?”

  “New boy, eh?” Darla called from behind Connie. “Did you need to borrow some shoogah?”

  “I’m sorry?” Mark’s voice was part amused, part bewildered.

  “Darla, the kitchen’s on fire. Go check it out.” With that, Connie bolted forward and edged Mark further out onto the deck, and pulled the door shut behind her. She prayed Darla would not be so vindictive as to lock it and leave Connie stranded, naked beneath her robe.

  “You’ll have to forgive my roommate,” Connie said, placating. “She hasn’t had coffee yet.”

  Mark’s glance was fixed on the closed door. The wisteria wreath framing the peephole had shifted slightly from the impact of the door closing. If Darla was using it to spy on them, she wouldn’t see much. “I see. I gather she takes it with a lot of sugar? She sounded awfully possessive of her supply.”

  “Hm. Oh, that. Yeah, she’s probably off balance for lack of it.” Connie waved a trembling hand. The urge to reach forward and touch this stranger was strong. Was he real? He certainly looked and smelled real.

  “I’m Connie,” she said finally, and extended her hand to receive a warm, strong grip that shot pleasured sensations through her entire body. She took a deep breath and willed herself not to melt. “You … look like … my co-worker Mark,” she added in a weaker voice. “Sorry for blurting it out like that.”

  And I’m sorry for looking as though I’m lusting for a guy who looks like the brother I don’t have. She must look like an idiot.

  Mark shrugged. “It is a common name, I suppose, and quite the coincidence.” The look on this Mark’s face, though, seemed to tell Connie he had less than brotherly thoughts on his mind. His gaze swept her head to toe.

  “Anyway,” he faltered, chuckling, “I just came by to let you know that I am your new neighbor.” He spread his arms wide in greeting. “And that I am a musician, I play electric guitar. I know, like most beach condos, this place probably isn’t up to fire code, so I wanted to tell you that anytime the music is too loud downstairs, come on down and tell me to knock it off.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Connie waved the words away. “Are you full-time, or do you have another job?”

  “No. I’m lucky enough to be in demand, so I rehearse at home during the day.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter, since Darla and I both teach during the day. So, tell me…” Connie leaned against the door, tilting her head to better study Mark’s build. “Where are you from?”

  “Oh,” Mark sounded suddenly embarrassed. “Well, being a Navy brat and all, I like to call the world my home. I don’t think my own mother remembers where I was born, as often as Dad got transferred from base to base.”

  “Yeah, this being a Navy town, you see a lot of turnover.” Connie kept a poker face, while her stomach quivered and roiled. You won’t say because you don’t know, her mind screamed. Because I just conjured you out of thin air!

  Mark bowed and flashed a dazzling smile that came very close to erasing Connie’s apprehensions. “Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy your Sunday. And please let me know if the music bothers you.”

  “Not a problem.” Music was the least of her bothers right now. She turned to go back inside when a surprised “Hey!” stilled her.

  “Did you drop this?”

  Connie turned around slowly, her gaze fixed on the crumpled twenty dollar bill pinched between Mark’s fingers. “It was under the welcome mat,” he was saying. “Maybe it fell out of your pocket or something.”

  Trembling hands retrieved the bill and placed it in her robe pocket. At least it wasn’t the thousand she had procured for Min Connie earlier. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

  The rest of the day passed without incident, largely due to computer inactivity. Sensing Darla’s discomfort with DoMINion, Connie promised to give the keyboard a rest. Just as well she took a break, she realized as she tried to cook stir-fry with aching fingers.

  “Ugh.” Connie set down her spatula and rubbed her knuckles. “That game box should have a warning on it. May cause carpal tunnel syndrome.”

  “And insanity,” she heard Darla grumble from the kitchen table. Connie remained silent, having weathered more than a few remarks at her expense this afternoon. The brief walk she took along the Chesapeake Beach shoreline did little to cool her down, or the tension between the two friends. When Connie returned home to start dinner, Darla continued to glare at her through hooded lashes, as if daring her to try to boot up the PC.

  I didn’t invent the game, I don’t make the rules, she wanted to shout at her friend, but deep down Connie wondered if she did have some authority over how the game was played, and consequently how the game would affect real life. She manipulated Min Roy to seduce Min Darla because she wanted to see her friend happy, with a guy who would be wonderful to her. She set things in motion for Min Connie to have Min Aaron because she wanted her marriage back.

  Correction: she had Min Aaron, and he wasn’t her husband, really. And did she really want her marriage back, or did she just want the security of a marriage? One man, one bed, one roof over their heads, and many nights of unbridled passion.

  Now, there was Min Mark to consider, too. Was he real, or just mere coincidence? Was he hired by the computer game company to mess with their heads? How would they know to send him here? If Connie found a way to “kill” Min Mark, would their neighbor die? Connie’s insides fluttered at the thought of causing anybody harm.

  Why did he have to be so damn good-looking, too? Connie pressed her arms close to her sides, inadvertently pushing her breasts together. The h
eat from the stove warmed her skin, while thoughts of Mark caused her insides to boil in an altogether different way. A musician, he was. Nice cover story, though Connie decided she wouldn’t mind knowing exactly how skilled Mark was with fingering, and not just the fret bar of his guitar.

  Connie shook her head. Games were supposed to ignite imaginations, true, but Love’s DoMINion had started an uncontrollable blaze destined to wipe out the whole condo complex if she didn’t get her head straight. Longing for a glass of iced tea to cool her desires, she asked Darla to fill the glasses as she finished cooking.

  “Smells good,” Darla offered without much enthusiasm. “Roy said something the other night about trying that new Thai place in Hilltop.”

  “Why don’t you call him?” Connie filled their plates and served dinner. “He’s left two more messages today, and without any intervention from us and that computer. He’s the real deal, Dar. Nobody is pulling any strings.”

  Darla plowed a fork through the scramble of whole wheat noodles and vegetables on her plate. “I know. I don’t doubt that, Connie, it’s just…” She sighed and gestured with the fork, formulating the right words to say. “I guess it’s just spooky, you know? You know I’ve always been a rational person.”

  Connie could not argue there. Darla had no qualms about referring to herself as a secularist, though her friend respected Connie’s beliefs in a higher being.

  “Things like this shouldn’t happen in a rational world, Connie. Yeah, a coincidental occurrence once in a while is fine. You think of a favorite song, and it comes on the radio. That kind of stuff I can accept, not … not…” Darla gestured to the computer, blank and untouched. “Not that.”

  “Would it help it we got rid of the game?” Connie felt her insides quake as the words came. She didn’t want to get rid of it, not after experiencing a night of incredible sex because of it. Who knew when she would get the opportunity again, if only to enhance her dreams?

  If only she could figure out how to make the Go! command work again.

  “No,” Darla said finally, and Connie relaxed. “I’m not going to let some stupid game get into my head.”

  “Like it has with me?” Connie challenged, knowing very well Darla did have a point. The game was in her head, and she wanted it to stay there. It got a cock into her pussy once, maybe it could do more.

  She expected a dry retort, and was surprised when Darla instead patted her hand. “It’s your game now, hon. I don’t want it anymore, you do whatever you want with it,” Darla said. “Maybe, in time, you’ll grow tired of it and realize the world around you is much more interesting.”

  “If I had a guy like Roy calling me all the time, I would.”

  “You will, I know it. Maybe it’ll take getting rid of the game to make that happen. But that’s your call now. I’m a rational thinker,” Darla repeated, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself of it. Connie watched her friend continue with dinner and stare quietly at her plate. “It’s just a game.”

  “Just a game,” Connie echoed. It was just a game she wanted to work like it did that first night, and work like that for the rest of her life.

  Chapter Eight

  Normally the last bell of the school day did not spark fantasies of Connie leaping from her desk and scuffling with her students to be the first out the door. Today she would have liked nothing more than to do just that. Ultimately, though, there was a task to complete, a burning question from one of her more studious pupils about allegory in Eliot’s poetry to answer, before Connie could comfortably pack her things and leave.

  She wanted to get to Darla’s classroom so the two could drive home, and she wanted Darla to go about her evening rituals of dinner, TV and quiet time in her room with her papers, so she could take care of her own work … and take care of Min Connie.

  Whom was she kidding? She wanted to be Min Connie tonight, and ease the ache that had throbbed in her pussy all day.

  From the peal of the first hour’s bell, the anticipation of going home for a round of Love’s DoMINion weighed heavily on her mind and heart. To discuss the symbolism of vision in The Great Gatsby had been a challenge today, with Connie fighting the urge to smile as thoughts of making love with Min Aaron resurfaced. She was certain a few of her kids had detected a goofiness about her, twisted lips and a high-pitched voice discussing with misguided glee the vicious death of Gatsby’s mistress.

  After the last farewell to Mrs. Raymond faded with a student’s retreat, Connie surveyed the empty classroom, completed the notations in her gradebook, and packed to leave. Darla, thankfully, had been in a good mood during their shared lunch period, more so when Roy joined them in the teacher’s lounge. Connie could only hope plans for a private grading session were made between the two when she was out of earshot.

  As Connie crossed the threshold toward the hallway, her ears started ringing, a result of the sudden pain felt when she crashed into something solid and reeking of aftershave. Her shoulder bag, containing the night’s grading, slumped to the floor with her purse. She pulled back, disoriented, but quickly recovered upon seeing her unsmiling estranged husband in the doorway.

  “Aaron!” Connie’s heart lodged in her throat and she swallowed hard, mentally tamping it down to her shoes. She hadn’t expected to see the man again without the benefit of a long table to separate them, lawyers flanking every corner. What shocked Connie more, however, was the tired look on Aaron’s face. Bloodshot eyes set over sallow skin appraised her conservative dress, and a hint of a smile turned up one corner of his lips, as if in longing. He had become a sad, elongated Bassett Hound.

  “I know you’re on your way out, sorry to surprise you like this,” he said. He folded his hands over his crotch, for want of something better to do with them.

  “That’s fine. Darla won’t leave without me. What’s wrong? You look terrible.” If anything positive came of their breakup, Connie decided it had to be the ease with which she could talk to Aaron. No more silence to spare feelings, Connie could be blunt now. To be certain, Aaron did look like death warmed over, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  As if he had been sleeping on the couch…

  “Yeah.” A brief, bitter laugh escape through Aaron’s nose. “I haven’t been sleeping too well lately.

  No. Connie bit her lip. What else had been going on in Aaron’s life? She was too afraid to ask.

  “Sorry to hear that. How’s Sleaz, er, Suzy?”

  Aaron caught the slip, and appeared none too appreciative about Connie’s save. “She’s fine,” he snapped, “just fine.” The tone in his voice, however, implied that he really didn’t know.

  “Oh.”

  “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, about…” Aaron stopped, his shoulders stooped and worn as he looked down at Connie. She could see the words and expressions reflected in his melancholy countenance. So much to say, all those words crushed together, seeking a way out else they combust into a fit of frustration. Or fear.

  Connie surmised fear won easily. Rather than say more, Aaron instead backed into the hall and turned. “You know what? It’s nothing.” He shook his head.

  “Are you sure?” Connie asked. “Is it about the house, or did I forget to sign something? Did I miss an appointment with the lawyers?” For simple matters like that, though, Connie knew Aaron could easily have called. No, something bothered him, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much of a role she had played in this display of unease.

  “No, we’re not scheduled to meet this week.” Aaron took a few steps away but turned around to hold her gaze one last time. His smile widened. “You look great, Con.”

  “I haven’t changed that much since you last saw me.” She felt suddenly coquettish, and wondered how silly it would look were she to pose against the doorframe, one knee bent high and flashing leg underneath her long skirt. Considering Aaron’s odd state now, obvious flirting might scare him away.

  “Still…” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but ins
tead offered an awkward wave in farewell. “Darla’s waiting for you,” he said. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay, but if you try tonight I might not be home.” Connie braced against the doorframe to keep from sliding to the floor. What possessed her to say such a thing? Who controlled her thoughts and actions now?

  “What?” Aaron frowned.

  “I—I have plans.” Connie’s voice became braver.

  “On a school night?”

  Connie shrugged. She did have plans to monkey with DoMINion, anyway. “I’m an adult, and I don’t have homework to do. Why not?”

  “Yeah, but…” And Aaron’s rebuttal faded into silence. Connie knew there were no valid arguments to offer. They were separated, and she had every right to go out on a work night if she wanted, with anyone. That there was no other man involved didn’t need to made public now, however. Connie rather enjoyed the emotions playing across Aaron’s features—jealousy with a twinge of regret.

  “Yeah,” Aaron said finally, then suddenly patted his jacket pocket. “Wait, I almost forgot. This came for you. Thought I might as well deliver it.”

  Connie took the bent envelope. “Really? Thanks.” Odd. She had her mail forwarded to Darla’s. This one must have slipped through the cracks.

  “Don’t mention it.” Aaron then wished her a grumbling goodbye before turning on his heel. Connie watched and listened as his defeated gait echoed through the hallway. As pathetic as any of her senior boys after being dumped, he appeared. So her half-truth made him that morose? How could he possibly be upset, when he had a girlfriend as buoyant as an inflatable moonwalk ride waiting for him at home?

  Assuming Suzy waited, assuming the girl hadn’t bounced off into the sunset with somebody else.

  Connie leaned back into her room and grumbled. May she roll over a rusted carpet tack on the road and explode into a noxious swirl of gas, she thought, reaching for her things. Pitching forward for the door, Connie once again hit a flesh wall, this one softer and more pliable.