The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 17: 11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women

by Lawson, Victoria

  “Working hard, Stacy?” Roger dismissed as he headed for the elevator.

  Stacy uncrossed her legs and let her foot drop with a bitter thud. Perhaps it was about time to throw in the towel. It was a pleasant pipe dream while it lasted, and at the very least, she still had the memories. That said, she only ever let her mind travel back to that fateful job interview. Roger was a powerful force behind closed doors but he was never able to recreate the sense of mystery and wanton sexual abandon that so memorably marked their first time.

  What Stacy really wanted was a man who understood her needs quite fully. Beyond the orgasm, what was there to keep her coming back for more? At the rate she was going, she was perfectly willing to take a chance on the first gentleman who treated her like a real woman.

  It was time for lunch. Stacy figured she’d treat herself once again. She didn’t give the matter too much thought until she stepped out into the gaze of the noontime sun. As she never truly thought about her meals, the results were often a mixed bag — it was New York, after all. But then she spotted that halal cart with the charming man watching over it dutifully. It might be nice to get into something with a little routine, she thought to herself as she crossed the street.

  Rael turned and saw Stacy bounce toward the cart. He had just made his vow and it would appear that Stacy, that delightful young lady from the other day, would be the chance that he was yearning for.

  “Hi there!” Stacy chirped.

  “Now, don’t tell me, I remember this… Falafel, extra pita and lots of hummus. Is that it?”

  “My my, I’m impressed!”

  “What can I say? Photographic memory. That is what you wanted, right?”

  “I wasn’t sure but, hey, why not? Make it easier for you.”

  Rael could’ve prepared the lunch blindfolded if he’d had no choice. He made sure to sculpt it just as he had done with her first Falafel. A queue was building person by person but neither minded too much.

  “What’s your name if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “I’m Stacy,” she sounded surprised but flattered.

  “Rael. Pleasure to serve. Do you mind if I ask you something?”

  “Of course.” She turned her head to the antsy customers. “Will they mind?”

  “I’ll be quick. Would you like to have a drink with me tonight?”

  Stacy blushed. At first, she didn’t know what to make of being propositioned by the man with the halal cart. On the other hand, the Roger ship had long since sailed. Rael seemed nice. Maybe that was all that was required.

  “Sure. Here’s my card. I get off at six.”

  They traded Falafel for business card.

  “This one’s on me, all right?” Rael raised his eyebrows.

  “Such a gentleman,” Stacy giggled as she turned back to her Madison Avenue chamber. Rael immediately flashed the next patron – an icy bank manager – a winning smile as he took the man’s order. It would seem that their prayers had been answered. Rael didn’t need to daydream any longer about his dream girl, although his thoughts would often drift to the possibility of a physical engagement with Stacy.

  As the sunlight began to dim, Rael would step over to the corporate fortress under instructions that he was to meet Stacy at the top floor overlooking Fifth Avenue and beyond. A kindly concierge would motion Rael to the one gold-encrusted elevator that wasn’t out of service, and he’d be right at the top in two blinks of the eyes.

  The floor would show only the minimal signs of life as everyone else grabbed their jackets and iPads en route to their dreary domestic lives. All the way down the corridor was Stacy. She is arched over the desk, her heels dangling from her toes. She rotated her head and exhaled a wistful sigh.

  “I’ve been waiting for you…”

  Rael slams the door behind him. He reaches out and draws the blinds, so the windows into the main office are completely curtained. After wiping his brow, Rael paces to Stacy and pets along her legs until his hand is directly between her thighs. As he reaches further towards the fire that lies between, Rael gently swoops toward her lips and implants a tender kiss. Stacy returns in kind with a deep penetration of her tongue. Her shoes drop. Rael mounts the mahogany desk and forcefully brushes the phone and assorted papers asunder.

  She runs her fingers up his deep muscles that are pinning her down. He grunts ever so slightly as he ramps up the electricity of his kisses. Like a feline clawing low to the ground for a meal, he makes his way down her body and loosens the buttons of her thin white blouse. A shiver bursts throughout her bones, joints, and nerves.

  He lowers the skirt as well as himself into her sex. While sucking the sweet nectar from within, his hands reach up and twist the nipples of her pear-shaped breasts. Her fluids seep all over his scruff and puddle the recently polished desk. As there are still drones buzzing about the workplace in its last waking hours, Stacy must stifle her pleasure-soaked cries by biting down on her index finger. She simmers for him.

  “Take me… I’m yours….”

  So Rael removes his staff and slips inside the home. He clutches onto the sides of the desk as he penetrates slowly and deeply. The temptation for Stacy to cry out grows as hard as Rael’s thrusting. She turns on her side and flips Rael over. Stacy reaches around to his inner thigh and allows her pelvis to snake up and down him.

  She collapses into his face and sucks down on his lips. She is hopping on top of him. He can feel the presence of disgruntled, undersexed workers hovering outside the concealed windows wondering if their hunch about what goes on behind the closed doors of offices is actually true.

  These disgruntled, undersexed workers were not in the Madison Avenue office building but in a line that wrapped around the curb as they waited for their exotic fast food. Rael had caught himself daydreaming for the hundredth time. But he was a professional and it only ever took him a second or two to get back into the swing of things. The queue had dissipated just a few passing bursts of Midtown traffic. As his business boomed momentarily, Rael felt a firm pat on his back.

  “Cleaning up, Rael?” Carmine joked.

  “I do all I can. How’s the coffee racket?” Rael shot back.

  “Take it easy, brother.” Carmine chortled under his breath as he swaggered toward his shop.

  ***

  HIS invitation from Julia still felt as hot as the Middle-Eastern delicacies that Rael was whipping up for his customers. He intended to ride this high as long as he could, or at least until he was linking arms with her in the hopes of joining her for a night of indiscretion. When he reached the coffee shop, he noticed a similarly unruly line throbbing from the counter to the front door. Jane was the only one on staff. Carmine watched from a distance and noticed that her pace was lagging. “That’s not like her,” he thought.

  “What’s going on, Jane? It’s lunch hour. Let’s get these people back to work.”

  “I’m sorry, Carmine,” Jane replied.

  In truth, Jane’s glow from her rendezvous with Jarvis had yet to wear off. The gears working inside her locked down by the memories of everything that happened against that tree. She respected Carmine too much to indulge in her thought process anymore. A quick stamp of her foot got her working at the typical Jane pace again. The customers dwindled. Carmine leaned into the counter.

  “Julia could be here any minute. Try not to backslide like that again.”

  “I know, I just…” Jane trailed off with a bright smile. Carmine studied her reaction and laughed.

  “Has somebody fallen in love?”

  “Oh, not exactly, I just had a grand night recently.”

  “Wonderful! None of my business then,” Carmine remarked as he made a few steps toward the office.

  “Carmine, have you ever had a New York encounter? Those times when the spirits of the Big Apple bring two people together whose paths wouldn’t normally cross. The thrill of the city gets into their lungs and they’ll do anything to have each other right then and there. I used to think that was a myth,
just something you saw in movies and TV shows. Well, now I know… it can happen to anyone. Maybe it’ll even happen to you.”

  Carmine chuckled to himself. “Mind the counter, Jane.”

  In fact, it was that kind of encounter that Carmine craved from his impending night with Julia. Granted, they had known each other for a long time, but only as business colleagues. Jane’s romanticized description still qualified as long as he got to meet the real Julia. How likely was this to happen? Passionate storm clouds were brewing above his mind’s eye but was their any lightning getting ready to strike? Carmine found himself obsessing over her invitation every five minutes since he received it. A spreadsheet stared at him from his desktop, waiting and pleading to be pumped and filled with the shifts for the upcoming work week.

  Focusing wasn’t an option, so he opened up his drawer to find an emergency bottle of Black Label. As he reached in for the alcoholic phallus, Carmine heard a knock on the door. His heart skipped a beat. The bottle thudded back into the drawer. Carmine was suspended in a pose of horror until he knew for sure that it wasn’t broken. After sliding the contraption shut, he invited the knocker in.

  Julia shuffled into Carmine’s office. She kept the door shut by hiding her hands behind her back and thinly holding down the fort.

  “Julia! What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here today?”

  She smiled suspiciously. “Did Spinoza botch the shipment again?”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that! Just a bit of a hectic afternoon as you can probably see.”

  “Jane seems to be in a pleasant mood. She has this glaze and spring in her step. My driver has it, too. Love must be in the air,” Julia laughed.

  “Must be. I’m just working on the schedules.”

  “Okay then, Carmine, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to give you the details about the party. As I said, it’s pretty casual. Jarvis should be at your place with the Limo by 7:00. He’ll probably get you and then bring you to me so we can go together — but maybe I’ll just go along, I don’t know, haven’t… decided. Anyway, that’s mainly it. Sound good?”

  “I thought your assistant was going to fill me in.”

  “Did I say that? Well, I thought I’d fill you in myself, give my assistant a break.” Julia pushed back even harder now. She didn’t know whom exactly she was keeping out but she didn’t want to take the risk all the same. “So… yes. Do you have any questions?”

  “None whatsoever. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Great, great…well, I won’t keep you.”

  “You’re welcome here anytime.”

  “Well, I am the boss.” Julia chortled through the uncomfortable silence. Then it was a flash of a smile and out the door. Carmine grinned. Since this invitation was sprung upon him, Julia was much less hands-on. There were several issues about which she could’ve nitpicked but her mind seemed to be on other things. Carmine relaxed as it was beginning to come clearer: This couldn’t simply be a work-related invite. If she wasn’t definitely attracted to him, she was at least considering the possibility that an attraction could gestate at any time.

  In fact, Carmine liked seeing his superior so flustered in his presence. The domineering force of nature was displaying her weakness, and he appeared to be that very weakness. As he dwelled on this thought, an erection sprouted up slowly in his pants. He had enough class to place this in his backup energy storage unit within his mind, but that didn’t stop him from indulging in a cheeky stroke of the tip of his rod.

  Meanwhile, Julia sat back in the limousine, her legs crossed and her arms folded.

  “Is something troubling you?” Jarvis inquired.

  “I have a lot of doubts,” Julia replied. “This could be incredible, or it could be a disaster. This could jeopardize the shop or it could be nothing at all. I wonder if I’m analyzing it too much. I probably am, aren’t I?”

  “Best to let the spirit of the evening sweep you along.”

  “And you’d know about that?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “I’ve had my moments,” he grinned.

  “Thank you, Jarvis.”

  The window rose up and clipped itself to the top. Julia was now invisible to her driver. It suddenly dawned on her that her favorite element of limousine access was the tinted windows. It had been a stressful trip to the coffee shop. What Julia needed more than anything was a stroke of the snatch. She pictured Carmine inside the limo, his thick piece tunneling in and out of her while he bent her over. She held onto the image and rubbed herself vigorously. She was soaked and sore by the time Jarvis returned her to her chambers. As usual, he pretended that he hadn’t heard a solitary peep through the transparent, curtain-like window.

  ***

  CLAIRE wandered into the Museum of Modern Art on a mere whim. She couldn’t help but feel overdressed in her black strapless dress but the stares from admiring, anonymous men made up for the possible faux pas. It had been some time since Claire had taken in a trip to a museum. She flirted with art history in her college days and all men who existed within any kind of artistic field drove her just a little wild.

  She didn’t know what to expect as she hadn’t bothered to check the exhibits in advance. When she wandered in front of a mammoth Jackson Pollock, she almost collapsed with the weight and soul of the work. Claire attempted to take in every inch of the canvas. As she contemplated Pollock agonizing over every splatter, she felt her tears water.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  Claire turned to the gentleman sitting next to her. He must have been fresh out of college, his deep green eyes piercing through his plastic rims. A sports jacket over an obscure punk t-shirt suggested he was from Brooklyn, as did his finely-groomed beard.

  “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m Paul.”

  “Oh no, not at all. Claire, it’s a pleasure.” They shook hands. Claire felt Paul’s callous fingertips and observed the sketchbook sitting on top of his jeans.

  “You’re not trying to sketch that, are you?”

  “God, no!” Paul laughed. “No, I just bring this around for inspiration.” He grabbed her hand once again. “Oh good, I thought I got your hands a little dirty for a second. You have beautiful hands — I hope that wasn’t too forward of me, I apologize.”

  Claire blushed. “How old are you if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “You’re quite the charmer for a young man.”

  “No, seriously, you’d make a excellent hand model. I’ll have to sketch them some time. But yeah, look at that painting. You can practically see Pollock pouring himself into it. If I can ever create something half as powerful as this, I can die happy.”

  Claire listened to Paul carefully. She thought about her day and how dull the tourist-eye view of New York was becoming. She slid over to Paul by half an inch.

  “Busy day?” She licked her lips.

  ***

  PAUL dragged Claire into the cramped apartment right in the center of Williamsburg. The bedroom was straight through. The two had been fondling and nuzzling each other for the entirety of the cab ride. They made sure to tip the poor driver heavily over the inconvenience. Their tongues were still passionately dancing when he threw her down onto the unmade bed. Paul’s mind raced several laps. He had brought a woman so beautiful that she looked as though she stepped out of the ads in the latest edition of Vogue magazine.

  Claire’s mind was bursting at the thought of what this rugged, carefree artist was capable of doing to her. They tossed their clothes in one direction after another. She lept on top of him and slipped his throbbing member into her mouth. Paul, on his knees, petted her breasts softly and tried to contain himself when he felt himself all the way down into the deepest recesses of her throat. One hand continued to work the breasts while the other inserted three fingers up her cave and stroked hard. Claire groaned through the job.

  Paul threw her back onto the mattress and stuck himself inside. The first thrust was gradual and t
empered, as was the second one. Suddenly, he was pounding into Claire like a power drill. She had forgotten the stamina of the average, reckless young male. Her fingernails stabbed into his back with enough force to split into the skin. Paul jolted momentarily and stopped.

  An uncomfortable fear lodged itself into the pit of her stomach — the fear that the explosive sex was over all too soon. Paul felt the tiny drop of blood inch down his back. He looked into her eyes and winked. In a flash, he was doing it to her even harder. Her legs tangled themselves around his waist. He sat up and pulled Claire towards him. She now sat in his lap while he grabbed her pelvis and rocked her body back and forth. Claire threw back her hair and howled like a banshee.

  Paul set one hand free and swiftly flew it over to her red, throbbing opening. He began to rub as he shook. All of Claire’s muscles tensed up and a spurting of her fluids rocketed down his manhood. He had never seen anything like it before, and it was enough for him to fall backward and allow himself to release his own fluids into her. Claire plummeted on Paul’s chest. They gasped for breath and were dripping in sweat.