Sense and Sensuality

by Cara Hart

  Sense and Sensuality

  A Hot for Teacher Tale

  By Cara Hart

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  P.O. Box 992

  Edgewater, Florida, 32132

  Sense and Sensuality, A Hot for Teacher Tale

  Copyright © 2009, Cara Hart

  Edited by Tiffany Mason

  Cover art by Rika Singh

  Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-031-6

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Electronic release: May, 2009

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  For my colleagues in the Rose Hill dungeon –

  It’s not Historical or Anime, but I guess you could call it porn.

  How long is Anime porn anyway? 45 minutes or so?

  Chapter One

  Eleanor McLaren was in Hell.

  And she looked miserable. Eddie Harrington reached up to adjust the mask that covered most of his face. All nightclub employees were required to wear them, gold for the ladies and black for the men, in order to give the patrons a freer hand on their sexual reins. Or so his boss, Lucinda Steele, maintained. Not that loosened controls were needed by the people who frequented The Seven Circles—or Hell as Eddie termed the place in his own mind, given the reference to Dante that Luce had intended as well as the fact that he was stuck in this pit for an interminable sentence of punishment.

  Of course, there were a few consolations, he thought, watching one of the women in Eleanor’s party wend her way through the gyrating crowd to the bar. On any given night, one or more of those patrons of the female variety were willing to meet him after hours. And stay for several hours longer.

  Though lately those rendezvous had become less frequent.

  His eyes narrowed as Eleanor’s friend pushed her way between two muscle-bound meatheads, giving them a look of disgust as they whistled at her.

  “Can I have three Cosmos, two White Zins, and five Redheaded Sluts?” she shouted over the pounding beats of Nelly coming from the speakers hanging around the dance floor.

  Eddie reached for the wine glasses as he nodded, glancing over at the group she’d left. One of the girls wore a glittery plastic tiara over her shoulder-length blonde curls and a feather boa. Her tee shirt had Bachelorette printed in rhinestones across her chest and she was drinking something out of a penis. He chuckled as he poured wine.

  “You must be having some party,” one of the ’roid warriors drawled, his eyes glued to her ass.

  “We are,” she answered dismissively, looking over his head at the crowd, her fingers tapping on the bar with the music. Eddie studied her face as he mixed the vodka, Cointreau, and cranberry for the Cosmos. She looked vaguely familiar, very pretty, beautiful even, but he couldn’t place her.

  “How are you going to carry all this?” he asked, pouring the cocktails and adding a slice of lime to each. She turned back as he tossed his mixer into the sink and grabbed a new one.

  “We’ll help,” volunteered the guy beside her.

  “Yeah,” said the other with a leer. “I love bachelorette parties.”

  “I don’t think so,” she answered, winking at Eddie as their faces fell.

  Eddie twisted around to find the Jager for the Sluts, hiding his own grin. They resembled a couple of students he’d taught in English 101 last year, both of whom had barely scraped by with C minuses. Those guys wore the same puppy-face disappointment when they’d gotten their papers back.

  Shaking the mixer, his eyebrows raised under his mask as she gave him the once over, a speculative sparkle in her eyes. For once he was thankful he had the damn thing on, since his cheeks heated under her intense gaze.

  “I was actually hoping you could help me out.” She leaned closer over the bar, her shirt falling lower to reveal her cleavage as she did. A wry smile curved her lips. “My friends and I are in need of a little entertainment. Know anyone who’d like to join us?”

  Eddie forced a smile. She was attractive, and in the past, he’d have jumped at the opportunity to entertain her. Tonight, however, he wasn’t in the mood. “I’d be happy to find someone for you. What are you looking for?”

  A broad grin lit her face, and for a moment, he was sure he’d met her before. “Weeellll....” She gestured over to the corner booth where she’d left her friends. Eddie followed her gaze and stared at Eleanor. The poor girl sat rigidly in the corner, idly picking at a plate of food, a half-empty wine glass in front of her. Beside her, the bachelorette and their other friends laughed and teased, smacking each other lightly at some joke or lifting cocktail glasses to their lips. A clutter of empties surrounded them, along with clean plates. His focus never left Eleanor as her friend continued talking.

  “It’s my friend’s bachelorette, and we wanted to get a stripper. Maybe a lap dance.” He saw she turned back to him in his peripheral vision. “Someone hot.”

  “There are a few guys here who could help you out.” Pete stood near the exit door just to the left of Eleanor’s booth. Eddie lifted a hand and waved, catching the man’s eye. He pushed off of the wall and weaved his way over toward the bar. “What about him?”

  The woman studied Pete. “Will he do private dances?”

  “Of course. All of the guys do.”

  “Excellent. Put this on my tab? It’s Brandon.” She gathered half of the glasses in her hands. “Have him come over with the shots, please.”

  “What’s the bachelorette’s name?” Eddie asked as she turned.

  “Meg. But it’s not for her. It’s for my sister, Eleanor.”

  Eddie stared after the woman until she’d been swallowed by the surging crowd of clamoring customers. The lap dance was for Eleanor? Holy shit. He would never have believed she was the type to go to clubs like Hell and get a dance. Even now, she was stiff and uncomfortable as she accepted the glass her sister held out for her and set it aside. She turned her head away and watched the crowd with an impassive expression. No stretch of the imagination could deem her happy, or even resigned to being where she was. If anything, she looked poised to bolt as soon as her friends’ back were turned.

  “Hey man, what’s up?” Pete asked from the other side of the bar. “Got a commission for me?”

  Eddie observed the man, from the black mask that rendered his features anonymous to the tight black shirt that contrasted with his tan skin and flowed over his muscles like water. Luce always pointed to Pete as the epitome of the demonic portrait she was attempting to achieve with her employees. He would scare the shit out of Eleanor. The thought caused a squeezing in Eddie’s chest and his fists clenched.

  “I need you to tend the bar for me. I’m taking a job.”

  * * * *

  “Come on, Ellie! You haven’t even finished your first one.” Meredith shoved another glass of wine into Elle’s face as she slid into the booth beside her. “You promised not to be a wet rag tonight.”

  Shuddering as her sister used the name she’d hated since childhood, Elle
took the wine, then placed the glass slightly to the side. “Someone has to be DD.”

  “We came in a cab, hon,” Lindsay said, then chugged the dregs of her gin and tonic before picking up one of the Cosmos. “Remember?”

  “Yeah. It isn’t every day one of your best friends gets married!” Meg, the bride, lifted her own glass in a wobbly toast.

  “We said we’d get completely shit-faced this time,” Amy put in. “Last time it was a little too tame.”

  “Not fair!” Meredith cried. “You know I didn’t want a big hoopla after John dumped me. We did one bachelorette party for me. I didn’t need another one.”

  Amy reached over to squeeze Meredith’s hand as Elle glanced over the swirling masses of dancers. Meredith was her twin, but even after twenty-eight years, she had no idea how to deal with her. And no words for how John had treated her, especially since she was the only one who’d urged caution when it came to the bastard. He’d seemed just a little too good to be true.

  But Mere was happy with her childhood sweetheart now, and Elle had never said I told you so. The phrase just seemed to echo through her head every time the bastard was mentioned, and she had a feeling Mere heard it, too.

  “Never mind that!” Lindsay leaned forward to point a finger in Elle’s direction. “Ellie is still the one at fault here. Loosen up, Professor!”

  “You do realize that I could lose my job if the Dean found out I was here, don’t you?” Elle said. “I hardly think it would go over too well that I patronized strip clubs.”

  “One time is not going to get you fired, Ellie!” Meredith shoved her a little harder than necessary. “Greg knows we’re here, and he said it was no big deal.”

  “Your husband’s not the one with his ass on the line, is he, Mere?” Elle returned. “He might not object to you coming here, but it’s not his reputation I’m worried about.”

  “Jesus, Ellie, it’s not the end of the world if they know you’re here!” Meredith shouted over the louder pulses of the DJ’s choice of songs. “You seriously worry too much.”

  “Maybe she needs to get laid,” Meg cried as Ludakris rapped about wanting to lick someone and fulfill her fantasies.

  Elle’s cheeks reddened and she stared into her pink wine. Why was it that every time they disagreed with her about something, her friends told her she needed sex? Sex was not the cure-all they seemed to think it was. And a girl needed a man to be interested enough in her to have sex, anyway.

  Elle lifted a shaking hand to the bun at the back of her head, tucking a stray strand of hair back into the band that held the mass of brown curls in place. “Could we not talk about my sex life, please?”

  “What sex life?” crowed Meg, twirling her purple feathered boa and pouring her Cosmo into the giant plastic penis Amy had bought her to use as a cup. “A good fucking is just what you need, girlfriend. Jason has about ten single friends coming to the wedding next weekend. Want me to hook you up?”

  “No, thank you.” Elle tossed back the ends of her first glass of wine and sucked down half of the new one, her head swirling from the chill of the sweet liquid and the burn of the alcohol. Suddenly, getting drunk seemed like the best idea she’d ever had.

  “Tim is really hot. And he just got out of a pretty serious relationship, so he’s bound to be interested in some no-strings sex.” Meg winked at Elle, who wrinkled her nose. No way was she going to have sex with Tim.

  “I’ll pass, thanks. One night stands are not for me.”

  “What about Eddie?” Lindsay asked, ignoring Elle’s protest. “If I was a free woman...”

  Meg’s gaze turned back to Elle, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Eddie? No... He’s a bit too...much for Ellie, I think.”

  That stung. Indignant, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Too much for me? No man is too much for me.”

  “Come on, Ellie. Eddie’s the biggest player I’ve ever met.” Amy sipped her Cosmo. “You’re practically a virgin.”

  “I am not a virgin!” Elle shouted. “I can handle any man.”

  “Yeah, right,” scoffed Meredith. “You couldn’t handle a vibrator, much less the real thing.”

  Elle’s mouth fell open as she saw the skepticism on her friends’ faces. “None of you think I’m woman enough to have sex?” None of them would meet her eyes. Hurt roiled through her belly. “Are you serious? Thanks a lot, guys.”

  “Prove us wrong, then.” Meredith leaned back in the booth, darting a gaze over her shoulder. “Have sex with a guy you meet here tonight.”

  “You must be joking.”

  “Nope. Dead serious.” Her sister raised an eyebrow in a taunting gesture Elle’d always hated. “But if you don’t think you can do it...”

  A bad feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, but no way was Elle going to back down from that eyebrow. “Who?”

  Meredith jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Him.”

  Elle raised her gaze to meet eyes in the black mask of a Seven Circles employee who arrived with five shots in his hands. “Oh my God,” she whispered as her breath seized.

  Chapter Two

  He towered over the table, his hair, mahogany in the reddish light of the club, brushed back from his forehead. His dark eyes, sensuous lips, and chiseled jaw complete with a cleft chin were the only facial features visible beneath the requisite mask. A lack of oxygen must make a woman insane, because only a crazy woman would have the melting sensation flowing through her veins that Elle had at the sight of him. His hands, long-fingered and strong, made Elle wonder what pleasure they could wreak as they stroked her skin. She gasped for air, praying her distress was unnoticeable, as he set down the shot glasses and leaned forward, his muscles rippling beneath his white tee shirt and leather pants. Warmth puddled between her legs and she shifted subtly beneath the table.

  “Are you all right, miss?” his deep voice rumbled as Elle attempted to breathe.

  Sweet mother of God, the man was a walking, talking, tower of sexiness. Even his voice caused a zing of arousal to shoot through her limbs.

  “F-fine, thanks,” she whimpered, shutting her eyes to block the sight of concern in his.

  “You sure? You’re pretty pale.”

  She opened her lids to find his face only inches away from hers. Barely containing a shriek of surprise, Elle scooted back on the bench, her gaze darting to find her sister’s smug smile and suppressed giggles of her friends. Humiliation mingling with lust, she returned her eyes to meet his, determined to ignore the look of worry in them. Worry wouldn’t aid her in proving she could sex it up just like any other red-blooded, normal woman. She inhaled deeply.

  “I’m very sure,” she said in her sexiest tones, curving her lips in a coquette’s smile and adding a slight sweep of the tip of her tongue across her lower lip.

  His eyes narrowed behind the mask, and he pushed away from the table. “Are you drunk?”

  Heat washed over her face as the others burst into hysterical laughter. “No! I—” Words failed her for the second time that night and tears gathered in her eyes. Damn, damn, damn!

  Elle grabbed one of the shots he’d placed on the table and downed it, then two more, slamming each of the miniature glasses down as she finished. She rose to her feet, steadier now that she’d consumed more alcohol in the last ten minutes than she had the entire past year, and faced her now silently staring friends.

  “Fuck you all. I’ve had enough.” She stepped onto the bench and climbed over her sister, not bothering to wait for her to move. “I’m going home.”

  Elle pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring several men who threw compliments out as she passed. They were all fucking bastards, as far as she was concerned, and they could all rot in hell.

  “Hey, hey, pretty lady, where you goin’ all alone?” A drunk grabbed her arm as she attempted to squeeze between two couples making out.

  “Take your hand off me,” she answered, anger overriding her instinct for preservation.

  His fingers tightened.
“Now, that’s not a nice way to speak to a man who calls you pretty.” He leaned close to her, his fetid breath brushing her face and his bleary eyes looking down at her chest. A wave of nausea rolled over Elle as she inhaled enough rum fumes to get a contact high.

  She clenched her teeth. “Thank you for the compliment. Now please let me go.”

  “I think we should get to know each other better.” He grinned, then pressed his face into the curve of her neck. Mistaking her shudder of disgust for one of pleasure, he licked her jaw.

  Screaming in fury, Elle drew back her fist and threw a punch at his nose. A satisfying crunch sounded as she connected and he let loose a howl as he dropped her arm to cradle his face. Blood spurted from between his fingers.

  “Goddamn it! You bitch!”

  “Next time let the lady go when she asks you,” came a familiar voice tinged with wry amusement from behind Elle. She stiffened as a hand landed her shoulder and tightened when she tried to pull away.

  “I’ll sue her and this fucking club!” the man continued to shout as several bouncers, all wearing black masks, converged on him and bore him away through the crowd.

  “Excuse me, please,” Elle said, determined not to turn around. The man had witnessed too much of her humiliation this evening. She refused to give him the further pleasure of seeing how much her hand was killing her. Or the fact that hearing his voice again had weakened her knees, and the shaking of her fingers was due to more than pain.

  “I don’t think so,” he murmured in her ear. A shiver raced down her spine and her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Wh-why not?”

  “Because I don’t trust that guy not to jump you as soon as you step through the front door, woman or not.” His breath skipped over her sensitive skin. Every single hair she possessed stood up in reaction and her stomach clenched with lust.

  Elle inhaled, turning her face away from him. How could he arouse her this way? Only one other man had affected her like this, and even he did not produce the same intensity of feeling with a mere glance.