I was still smarting from the indignity of it all—the man was treating me like I was drunk—when the music began.
An electric guitar began to whine. The melody was slow and moody, the kind of tune that seemed to ooze down inside of you, take a hold of your loins and squeeze tight. The music was painfully erotic with a measured groove that had me bobbing my head from side to side before I realized what I was doing.
Onstage, Nigel rocked his hips. His body moved in time with the music. As I watched him I knew this would be the highlight of my night.
He began to sing the first words of Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused” and I nodded to myself. He was a good singer, of course. Hell, I liked his voice better than Robert Plant’s.
Working steadily on my sixth Black Russian of the night, I took in every inch of this man. I had been way too hasty to have rejected his advances earlier in the week. Hell, I was here, he was here. For all intents and purposes we were both single. What harm could come from spending a little time together?
None, I decided, concluding on the spot that tonight I would take Nigel to bed.
1:02 a.m.
“You are so fucking sexy,” I slurred, eyes trained on Nigel’s crotch as Peter drove everyone home. “Like some swashbuckling hero out of a romance novel. Or like some rock star…some sexy British rock star.” I giggled. “And you’ve got about the biggest cock I’ve ever felt.”
Nigel studied me, a slight smile on his face. “You think so?”
I felt around between his legs. “And I want to see it. Right now.”
Nigel squirmed and tried to get a hold of my roving hands. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“And you’re body.” I sighed. “You have an awesome body Nigel.” I nuzzled closer, tried to burrow under his shirt with my eager fingers. “Do you lift weights or were you born perfect?”
For some reason he grabbed my hands and held them immobile against his thigh. “Why don’t you relax, Stella. You must be tired. You had a lot to drink tonight.”
“Poppycock!” I exclaimed. “Isn’t that what you Brits say?”
“No Stella,” Katarina offered helpfully, “they say balderdash.”
“What utter twaddle,” Ann added.
Behind me, Gerard moaned. “Shit Ann, how much did you drink? You were supposed to make sure Stella didn’t drink too much and look at you.”
“Balderdash!” Katarina yelled, then began to laugh hysterically.
I couldn’t say what exactly it was about what Katarina had said that was funny; nevertheless, I fell into a fit of laughter too. I could feel a tear plop onto my cheek as I slid toward the floor; laughing so hard my stomach was beginning to hurt.
Hands gripped me at the waist and hauled me back onto the seat.
“Rest Stella,” Nigel said again. “You’re tired. You should sleep.”
“Baby, I ain’t nowhere near sleepy yet. I’m miles from sleepy. Miles and miles and miles. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.”
Nigel slid an arm around my waist and pulled me close while simultaneously trying to force my head against his shoulder.
Feeling generous, I offered, “I’ll go to sleep if you let me see your cock.”
Nigel didn’t respond, so I took this as acquiescence.
I grabbed for him.
An awkward wrestling match ensued with me trying desperately to tug his pants open, while he tried to get a hold of my hands again.
“Ouch, Stella. That hurt.”
“Stop complaining. You know you like it.”
“Don’t be so rough.”
“Don’t be such a tease.”
“You’re drunk, Stella. I assure you, had you tried this sober the results would have been markedly different.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not drunk, I’m just…” Everything went black.
Chapter Seven
4/15/05 4:11 a.m.
I Feel liiike crap. Humgover. How mudh did I drnk
7:12 a.m.
Too much sun! Must close windows.
Argh!
9:23 a.m.
Am completely humiliated. Feel like total ass. Have made fool of self in front of Nigel.
Apparently I passed out in the truck on the way home Nigel had to carry me inside and help Gerard and Peter put me to bed. Worse yet, Gerard claims that I made numerous advances at Nigel, trying to shove my hands down his pants and up his shirt…Have I said how humiliated I am?
I am never drinking again.
Never!
It’s too humiliating.
Damn it. Someone’s at the door.
Katarina wants to give a go with the plug today…hope it’s not her. I’m in no mood to think about anal sex.
11:27 a.m.
Katarina stood like a sentinel in my bedroom window, staring down at the retreating truck. “Are you sure you made the list long enough?”
I pounded the bed beside me hard enough to grab her attention. “They’ll be gone at least an hour. I put a lot of ethnic foods and gourmet cheeses on the list. I doubt any grocery store around here will have half of what I listed. They’ll go to at least two before they give up.”
“You’re sure?”
I glanced at Ann and Meagan, then back at Katarina. “Yes. Now come here. If you really want to do this we’re gonna have to get started.”
“Okay.”
“Where’s the box?” Ann asked.
I hopped from the bed and trotted to the closet where I’d hidden it under two suitcases. When I returned, all eyes were on me. Katarina had settled herself on the bed, her eyes eager and focused on the box in my hand. “Hurry up. I want to see it.”
Five minutes later, the butt plug sat on the center of my bed, intimidating the hell out of all of us. I stared at it doubtfully, wondering if I’d ordered the right size.
“Is it supposed to be that big?” Katarina asked, voicing the question I’d been asking myself since the first moment I saw it.
Both Katarina and I looked to Ann and Meagan, our resident sex guru’s, for guidance.
Ann studied the thing. Deep frown lines rent her cheeks and forehead as she angled her head to get a look at it from another direction. “Did you bring lube?”
Meagan perused the depths of her purse for long minutes. Finally, she surfaced holding a family size bottle of lubricant. “Guess this should be enough.” She stared at the plug and grimaced. “If not, I could run to the store and get some more.”
Ann crouched on the floor beside the bed so she could get a closer look. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Katarina. This thing is huge.”
Katarina nodded. “I’m doing this. I’ve made up my mind.”
“I don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe you should wait and let Jim devirginize your ass.”
“Look. Jim is pretty big too. If I can’t get some butt plug in me when I’m in full control of it, I’ll never be able to have anal sex with him. I really wanna do this with him, so tell me what I need to do.”
Meagan pulled her gaze away from the plug and looked Katarina in the eye. “He’s not forcing you to do this, is he?”
“No. It’s my choice. He’d never force me to do anything.”
“All right then. That’s all I need to know.” Ann got to her feet and grabbed the oversized phallus and tucked it under her arm. “The bathroom is probably the best place to do this.”
A bottle of lube later, Katarina was crouching on her knees on the bathroom floor with her face pressed to the tiles, moaning.
I couldn’t actually see her, but she’d been describing her every move in excruciating detail.
“Okay,” Ann said from our side of the locked bathroom door. “Push out and ease the plug inside, nice and slow.”
“I’m trying,” a small voice said from within.
“Take your time, Katarina.” I said. “We’re in no rush.”
“Okay.” she called.
I felt ridiculous, but it couldn’t be helped. Katarina needed our support and
I wouldn’t refuse her.
Progress was slow at first, since the further the thing went in, the more she complained about wanting to push it out. I knew how unnatural it felt to have something, anything penetrating your rectum. Things weren’t supposed to be going in through that particular orifice.
“It kind of hurts,” she said, after a few minutes of silent working.
The plug was shaped like a bell, with the rounded edge the smallest point. From the snub end it gradually widened to inhuman proportions. In all honesty, I doubted she’d get the whole thing in, but I figured the sensation of anal penetration was a good experience for her. Now she wouldn’t be completely caught off guard by the overwhelming need to push out against Jim.
“Everything all right in there?” Ann called after a few minutes of silence.
“Yeah,” she began to say, then let out a tiny mew of distress. Then she screamed.
I was on my feet in a millisecond, with Ann and Meagan at my side. “What’s wrong?” we called out.
“Oh shit, guys. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”
“What? What?” I tried the doorknob but remembered it was locked.
Meagan held up her arms, signaling Ann and me to quiet ourselves. In a calm voice she asked. “Katarina, what’s the problem?”
“Oh shit, Meagan.”
“Katarina, what’s the problem? Just calm down and tell us what happened.”
“I don’t know.”
The panicked sound of her voice had my heart slamming into my chest. But I couldn’t figure out what could have happened to petrify her so bad. The plug was huge, but it wasn’t as if she could actually damage herself with it…or could she?
“Tell us what happened,” Meagan said, coolly.
“Okay. I was holding the plug by the base when it just sort of popped out of my hand.” Her voice was gradually getting higher and more panicked as she spoke. “I can’t feel it anymore, Meagan. It’s inside of me. What if I never get it out?”
“Relax. That can’t happen. Just reach behind you and feel around for the base. It’s there, you just have to find it.”
I could hear Katarina panting, could almost feel her fear.
“You find it yet?” Meagan prodded, still speaking in an even voice.
“Yeah. I got it.”
“Good. Now slowly, pull it out.”
Swallowing hard, I whispered. “Thank God.”
“What?” Ann asked me.
“Nothing. I’m talking to myself.”
“How you doing in there?” Meagan said to the door.
“It kind of suctioned itself in.”
“How does it feel?” Ann wanted to know. “Does it hurt?”
“As long as I don’t move it’s okay.”
“And if you move?”
“It hurts.”
Meagan edged closer to the door. “Take it out, Katarina. Pull gently.”
“I’m trying. But when I tug nothing happens. Wait. Let me try again.” She let out a grunt then another tiny mew of distress. “I can’t get it out.”
Despite the fact that I’d had a go at it a few seconds earlier Meagan tried the knob. “Stay calm, Katarina. Relax”
I heard Katarina take a deep breath, then another. “It’s stuck!”
It was stuck. The butt plug was stuck. My best friend had a butt plug stuck up her ass! This wasn’t good.
“Help! I can’t get it out! How do I get it out?”
Ann, Meagan and me began shouting instruction, all of our voices meshing into one disarrayed noise. A brief argument ensued, and then Meagan was chosen as the group spokeswoman.
“That’s normal, Katarina. Your body has suctioned it, just like you said. It’s perfectly normal so don’t panic.”
I heard her grunt again and figured she was tugging at it, this time using more force. “I still can’t get it loose. Help! Help!”
As though we were the Three Stooges of sex, we all screamed contradictory advice at her. “Count to three and pull hard.” “Ease it out nice and slow.” “Leave it in and call 911.”
“Help!”
Ann’s voice rose above the fray. “Let me in and I’ll see if I can get it out.”
“Come in!”
“You have to unlock the door.”
“I can’t. I can’t move. It hurts when I move.”
Ann, Meagan and I took a moment to look at each other. “We’re gonna have to break the door down,” I said.
Ann and Meagan nodded. At me. Leading me to believe that I was the one who’d been elected to do the actual breaking of the door.
Nodding more to myself then them, I motioned for them to stand back. I walked a good ten feet from the door, shouted for Katarina to watch out because I was coming in, then charged at full speed.
I oomphed when my shoulder met hard wood. Rather than the door crumbling in on itself at impact, I shuddered once, felt my legs go out from under me, then subsided to the floor in a heap.
All the while, Katarina continued to scream bloody murder.
“Well that didn’t work,” Ann decided. “Maybe if two of us try—”
“What is going on in here?”
I sat upright on the floor. Ann and Meagan spun around in surprise.
Nigel stood poised in the archway, staring in at us with his mouth hanging open. He was wearing oven mitts and had a huge, black cauldron balanced in his hands.
Meagan, always the quickest on her toes, was the first to come out of her paralysis. “We need your help.” She said. “Katarina’s locked in the bathroom, she’s hurt herself—”
“No kidding. I could hear her wailing from the deck. What on earth are you doing up here?”
“She’s hurt herself,” Meagan said again, “and we need to get into the bathroom to help her.”
Nigel continued to stare at Meagan.
“So can you help?”
“How?”
“By getting us into the bathroom.”
I didn’t like the idea of sending Nigel through the door with Katarina in that position, but we had to do something. She couldn’t go the rest of her life with a butt plug stuck up her ass.
“How do you propose I do that?” he asked, finally.
We discussed this at great length. Finally, Ann concluded, “Breaking it down is the only way. And you’re big enough to do it, Nigel.”
“Break it down.” he repeated. He went to the bed and set the cast iron pot on the bedside table. Next, he discarded the oven mitts. “I came to see how you were doing.” He said as he waved his hand for me to get out of the way. “Wondered how the four of you were recovering after last night. Nice to see you’re all up and on your feet doing God knows what.”
Idly, I realized I was still sitting on the floor in front of the door. I gingerly crawled out of his path.
“Well then, here I go,” Nigel said, then was brought up short when I told him to wait. “Bloody hell, woman, what now?”
“You have to keep your eyes closed. Once you hit the door you can’t look in. Katarina’s naked.”
Nigel took a moment to look at me and my friends. Shaking his head he said, “Please don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” Refocusing on the door, he called out, “All right. I’m coming in Katarina.” And to us, “Where in the hell are your men? Shouldn’t Jim be the one doing this?”
Ann pasted a smile to her face. “They went out.”
“I cannot say I blame them.” Sighing once more, Nigel bent low and charged the door like a raging bull. His shoulder hit the door with a loud whap; the door shuddered violently, and then sprang open. Nigel disappeared within.
A series of grunts and screams emanated from inside, so I got to my feet and rushed in.
Nigel was on his side, heaving and breathless. Lying huddled under a mound of towels, Katarina’s blonde curls were all I could see of her.
“Get him out of here,” we heard a weak feminine voice, which could only belong to Katarina, say.
I rushed in, took Nigel by the forearm,
and attempted to haul him to his feet.
“Give me a minute would you? It’s a lot harder than it looks to break through a solid wood door, you know. You could offer me an ice pack, maybe thank me, give me a bloody pat on the head.”
I glanced at the mound of towels. It was quivering now. “There’s ice downstairs. And sandwiches and iced tea…and Lime Coke.” I pulled, prodded, and tugged some more. “I know how much you love Coke.”
“All right, I’m getting up. But you don’t have to break my arm.”
He allowed himself to be hauled to his feet, then ushered out of the bathroom. I didn’t let him pause or acknowledge the gratitude Ann and Meagan were hurling his way, nor did I allow him to retrieve the pot he’d brought for us I got him out the room, down the stairs, and settled in the kitchen. I was absolutely content to allow Ann and Meagan to deal with the plug removal.
Hoping things were going well upstairs, I set about finding the largest glass I could in the pantry then filled it to the brim with the contents of my new bottle of Coca Cola. The man had damn near drunk the entire previous bottle all by himself, curse him. Now here I was offering him the second.
I could feel his eyes on me as I moved around the kitchen. I tried hard to keep my body from reacting to his presence. Upstairs, things had been so dire that I hadn’t noticed how amazing he looked today. In truth, after my alleged behavior of last night, I didn’t want to notice. Nevertheless, I was noticing now.
His short pants stretched snugly over that amazing backside of his. The gray material hugged each cheek so well; I could almost see how he’d look out of them. He was wearing a white T-shirt, and it was tucked in the band of his pants. The shirt was loose, but it did nothing to hide the firm planes of his chest or the rigid peaks of his taut nipples.
It wasn’t a wonder I’d thrown myself at him last night.
“I suppose you’re not going to tell me what your girlfriend was doing on the bathroom floor, naked,” he said when I’d brought him the soda.
I shook my head once. “Nope.”
“Or how she came to be buried under half the towels in the house.”
THE CHRONICLES OF STELLA RICE: APRIL Page 6
