The Perfect Score 2 Widow's Weeds

by Beth Williamson

  Praise for the writing of Beth Williamson

  The Perfect Score 1: One Night Stand

  Ms. Williamson really captured my attention and held on tight with this awesome tale of love and cultural differences. Anyone who enjoys a good contemporary story should run out and buy this book as soon as possible.

  -- Susan White, Coffee Time Romance

  The pacing kept my attention and the characters were all very engaging. The Perfect Score: One Night Stand was an unexpected romantic delight that I will read again! I highly recommend it.

  -- Patrice Storie, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  Beth Williamson has created a story readers will want to read many times over. One Night Stand contains realistic characters, squabbling teammates, a huge bowling tournament, and one sexy as sin determined man… The friendship and understanding between Babs, Veronica, and Marlene is a key factor in this story and I can't wait to see what happens with Veronica and Marlene .

  -- Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies

  Once again Ms. Williamson shows her talent as a writer that I can depend on to give me an entertaining read. I can’t wait for the next installment of this series!

  -- Talia Ricci, Joyfully Reviewed

  The Perfect Score 1: One Night Stand is now available from Loose Id.

  THE PERFECT SCORE 2:

  WIDOW’S WEEDS

  Beth Williamson

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (homoerotic sex).

  The Perfect Score 2: Widow’s Weeds

  Beth Williamson

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © August 2006 by Beth Williamson

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59632-291-2

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Lorri-Lynne Brown

  Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter

  www.loose-id.com

  Chapter One

  She tried. God knows she tried. Each night it was the same thing. She told herself she wouldn’t do it. She resisted until the wee hours of the morning. Until she was so tired that her eyes were about to dry up like raisins. Until her body was vibrating with exhaustion. Until she gave into her cravings and gained her release.

  It was two a.m. and Veronica fisted her hands to stop them from creeping down to quench the ache that tortured her. With a dramatic sigh to rival any Babs could dish out, Veronica rolled over in bed and reached for the knob on her nightstand drawer. With a cringe, she slid the drawer open. She peered into the shadowed interior lit only by the light of the moon and looked for her favorite vibrator.

  It was purely psychological, she knew that. She was an intelligent, forty-two-year-old woman with a college degree and at least enough common sense to fill a cup full. Yet she was a secret masturbator. Secret because no one, no one, knew how much she did, or how many sexual toys she’d accumulated over the last two years. If her friend Babs found out about her collection, she would never live it down.

  She could almost hear her mother’s voice in her ear.

  The devil dances ’twixt your thighs, so you’d better keep them closed so he has no dance hall.

  Veronica didn’t want to turn on the light, so she kept feeling around, sure that Big Purple was near the top. She’d already used it twice this week; it couldn’t be far. When her fingers slid across a familiar bumpy rubber, she sighed in relief and pulled it out.

  She hadn’t intended on becoming a collector. It was quite by accident. Babs had given her a vibrator for her birthday two years earlier, and she was mortified, especially considering it was in the Sugar Shack restaurant. Veronica brought it home and one night, in the deep darkness, she reached for it, almost against her will. Thus began her path down the road of licentiousness that would make her mother have the vapors for a month if she knew.

  She started purchasing online at a website that delivered in plain brown packages. At first, it was simple vibrators, and then she worked her way through butterfly vibrators, clit ticklers, nipple rings, double dongs, and simulated tongues. She must have at least fifty different devices in her drawer. She had her favorites, of course, like Big Purple.

  Veronica took the warming gel from the drawer and squeezed some on the ribbed vibrator, then used her fingers to coat it. Setting the gel back, she slid the drawer closed and snuggled back into her comfortable spot on the mattress. The warming gel wasn’t necessary of course, but it gave at least the appearance of something other than a rubber sex device. It wasn’t human, but at least it wasn’t cold.

  She eased the nightgown up her thighs and spread her legs until the air conditioned air caressed her heated, hungry pussy. Like Pavlov’s dog, it wept because it knew a treat was coming. A treat that would relieve its pain, its hunger.

  She twisted the end until it vibrated slowly. She liked to tease herself as she turned it up. As the slick hardness made contact with her clit, a zing of pleasure echoed through her. She slid the vibrator back and forth, pulling her clit to aching hardness.

  She fantasized about Orin, about the night he introduced her to oral sex. The night Veronica discovered that the mouth could be an incredible instrument of pleasure for both of them.

  She pushed the head of the vibrator inside her and her fantasy changed. It was Orin’s hardness pressing into her. Deeper, deeper, deeper. She felt the orgasm building so her left hand reached down to pinch her clit as she pumped faster and faster. The pleasure rolled through her and she moaned into the stillness of her room, gasping and clenching against the slicked rubber.

  As the waves faded, her muscles relaxed and Big Purple slowly landed on the bed. Sleep was finally calling her name, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The languorous exhaustion that only an orgasm could bring stole over her.

  She laid the vibrator on the nightstand and adjusted her nightgown back into place. She rolled on her right side and tucked her hand under her cheek. The scent from her pussy teased her nostrils from her fingers. The musk was pleasant, almost tantalizing. She moved her hand under the pillow, ignored her natural curiosity and closed her eyes.

  Sleep finally claimed her.

  * * * * *

  Bright colors lurked in the back of Veronica’s closet. Long since forgotten or worn, they sat in the shadows. She knew they were there, and promised herself for the millionth time that she’d clean them out or at least donate them to the local shelter.

  She never did.

  It had been five years since Orin died. Five long years that
taught her what it truly meant to live without your heart beating. Life went on around her, but Veronica simply watched it go by. She stopped living the night he did.

  Oh, she still breathed, slept, ate, and worked. She bowled once a week with her wonderful friends, Marlene and Babs. She read and watched TV, occasionally rented a movie, and puttered in her flower garden. It was all a sham, a face slipped on each day for the world to see. Beneath it, she simply existed. There was no life.

  Her body continued to exist and crave and need. She decided it was because she was a virgin until she was thirty-three, until she’d married Orin. Her parents had ingrained a highly conservative ethic so deeply, Veronica saved her virginity for her wedding night. Unheard of, really. Orin had been a patient and amazing lover that taught her how to give and receive pleasure. He died just four years after they married, leaving Veronica alone, in her heart, her body, and her soul.

  As she headed out the door of her house to the bowling alley, the wedding picture of her and Orin caught her eye again. It hung on the wall near the front window. They both looked so happy, so full of promise. Four years later, he died in a car accident and left Veronica all alone. His smiling face was frozen forever in his wedding finery.

  She tried not to look at the picture anymore, but sometimes her eyes moved over the photo of their own volition. Her heart pinched every time. She wondered if a day would come when she’d look at the picture without pain.

  Veronica kissed her fingers, then touched the cold glass that covered Orin’s face.

  “Love ya, O-man.”

  The ride over to the bowling alley was short and uneventful. When she pulled into the Starlite parking lot, she saw Babs’s silver sports car and Marlene’s pick-up. She didn’t like being the last one there, on principal, and if she hadn’t dawdled over Orin’s picture, she wouldn’t have been. Veronica hated being late, period.

  It was the three days until The Perfect Score bowling tournament and there was an air of excitement in the alley. It was the biggest tournament in Texas, and it had landed this year in the small town of Espejo at the Starlite Lanes. It was like having the Miss America pageant, the way people were acting.

  Veronica stopped at the front desk to say hello to Jesse, the owner, who was lit up like high beams. He was a gray-haired man who wore overalls and print shirts. One of those people she’d known all her life because he’d been friends with her daddy.

  “Morning, Jesse.”

  “Veronica! Hey there, sweet thing, how are you?”

  “I’m just fine. How are you?”

  “Oh, I am diamond fine! I cain’t believe it’s almost time for the tournament. Y’all are bowling right?”

  Veronica nodded. “In the team tournament.”

  “Oh, you gotta do more than that! You’re a good bowler.”

  She waved her hand. “Not nearly as good as Marlene.”

  “You have a solid average. Don’t put yourself down now!”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You are going to man the desk for me today, right?” He hurried around the edge of the desk.

  “Sure am.”

  “I really appreciate you helping me out.”

  He patted her shoulder affectionately.

  “No problem, Jesse.”

  Veronica sat down on the spanking new stool Jesse had bought -- he didn’t think the duct tape would look professional so he hid the old one under the desk. She didn’t expect too much would happen at the front desk on Friday. Most folks wouldn’t be in town for another couple of days. All the final preparations were happening over the weekend. She saw Babs over at the snack bar with Marlene. She waved at her friends. Marlene waved back, and Babs blew a kiss and held up her coffee in a toast.

  Babs was one of those people who was fodder for gossip. She was the only child of a Mexican mother and a Texan father, rich as hell and as bold as she was brassy. Veronica didn’t know why they were such close friends; they were polar opposites. Perhaps it was the addition of Marlene, sort of the monkey in the middle. She was younger than both of them, and a nicer, sweeter, more giving person in Espejo couldn’t be found. The three of them had met five years ago when they signed up for the fall league at the Starlite. They bonded quickly and had remained close friends ever since.

  Veronica reached into her purse for a peppermint candy, one of her vices that she could not give up. She rummaged around a bit and something slid under her nail sharply.

  “Shit!” She stuck the finger into her mouth to suck on it, as if that would relieve the pain that pulsed through it.

  “Um, well, hello to you, too.”

  Veronica looked up to find an auburn-haired woman smiling at her. She had short hair, wavy, in a bob, and the most incredibly unique blue eyes she’d ever seen. Almost cerulean in color. She was wearing some kind of gauzy top with at least three pooka bead necklaces and dangling earrings that swayed and tinkled when she moved. Her skin was literally like peaches and cream with a smattering of freckles across her pert nose. She was absolutely gorgeous.

  “Oh, my God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to cuss at you. I hurt my finger and --”

  The woman waved her hand airily. “No worries.”

  Veronica continued to stare at her, feeling like her tongue had twisted into a huge knot. What was it? She was just a stranger. Why did she feel like her brain had just turned to mush?

  “C-can I help you with something?” She finally spit out.

  “I was over at the snack bar and that blonde woman told me to come over here to talk to you.” Her voice was low like Lauren Bacall. Veronica had always wanted a deeper voice, instead she sounded a bit like Daisy Duck.

  “Babs sent you over here?”

  “Is that her name? It fits, doesn’t it?” The stranger chuckled huskily. “She said I’m your partner. My name is Patrice.”

  Partner.

  She hadn’t had a partner in five years. What was she talking about?

  “Partner for what?”

  Patrice cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “The ladies doubles competition?”

  Oh, hell and damnation. She’d totally forgotten that Marlene had bullied her into signing up to bowl blind with someone in the tournament.

  “Of course, I’m sorry. I haven’t had breakfast yet, and my brain is running on four hours of sleep.”

  She felt her cheeks flush at the memory of exactly why she’d had only four hours of sleep. She hoped Patrice couldn’t read minds. Veronica would be mortified.

  “I understand completely. I drove up from San Antonio yesterday, and it was hard to roll out of bed this morning. I was just about to get something to eat, but I wanted to say hello first. Can I bring you coffee and a biscuit?”

  Veronica found herself smiling at Patrice. Her favorite breakfast was coffee and a biscuit.

  “That would be heavenly. Hang on; let me get you some money.”

  Patrice waved her hand again, the bracelets on her wrist clinking together merrily. “We’re partners, remember? This one’s on me.”

  She turned and headed toward the snack bar. Patrice wore a turquoise skirt that was nearly as diaphanous as her green and yellow blouse. She also wore white Birkenstock sandals with a yellow daisy on the side. A huge macramé bag hung from her hand with bamboo handles. She looked like a modern-day hippie.

  There weren’t too many hippies in Texas, modern or vintage. Patrice sounded like she was a native, though, so perhaps her parents were into all that touchy-feely, make-love-not-war stuff. Veronica’s parents made sure she wasn’t exposed to any of that while growing up. She was only allowed to socialize with children of church members or mama’s circle of friends. Good thing her mama had retired and moved to Arizona -- Marlene and Babs would not fit the profile of what she considered appropriate friends.

  “Is there time to practice today with open lanes?”

  Veronica shook her head to clear it. She’d been woolgathering while watching Patrice. A handsome brown-haired man in a blue shi
rt was standing at the counter, obviously waiting for her to find her brain and answer him.

  “I expect there will be. If you see an older man in a loud, purple Hawaiian shirt with gray hair and a beard, that’s Jesse, the owner. He’d be able to tell you when there is open bowling today for practice.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled and walked away. He was a mighty fine-looking man. In fact, she saw Babs notice his rear-end and her gray eyes were practically eating him alive. Veronica hid her grin behind her hand.

  “Share the joke?” Patrice was at the counter again with two cups of coffee with a biscuit wrapped in paper on top. She could smell the biscuit and breathed in the delicious scent. Marlene was an incredible cook.

  “Just watching Babs work, that’s all.”

  When she glanced back, she only saw the man’s back as he talked to Babs. No doubt he’d end up in her bed tonight. They all did. Veronica tried it a few times, the one-night stands, but she was miserable afterwards, and she was never satisfied either. She gave up after six months of messy, embarrassing “dates.”

  “She’s a charmer, that’s for sure.” Patrice set the coffee cups down and peered behind the desk. “Is there another stool for me?”

  Veronica was surprised, but pleased. She hadn’t expected any company at the desk today, and Patrice seemed like a friendly sort.

  “As a matter of fact there is.” She stood, then pulled out the old stool and spread her white cardigan on it. As she sat down, she gestured for Patrice to join her. Patrice grinned and headed behind the desk to sit on the stool next to Veronica. She pulled the coffee cups over and they settled in for breakfast. Patrice’s perfume gently teased her nostrils. Something with a hint of vanilla. Very earthy and light.