Like when she explained the meaning of the insistent honking followed by a pissed off male driver giving her the finger as he sped past Samantha, who’d been driving slow for safety. Her heart about stopped when Lugal’s warmonger genes kicked in. Focused on revenge, he demanded she catch up to the offending driver so he could teach the uncouth wrongdoer a lesson in how to properly treat a lady.
The most difficult part was trying to explain to Lugal how the term fuck you and all its variations could have such distinctly different meanings.
Things didn’t improve once she parked in the mall’s lot. They hadn’t taken ten steps before she heard a wolf whistle followed by a yoo-hoo! Since Samantha rarely engendered that sort of response from men on the street, she suspected the whistle was meant for Lugal.
“Well hello there, precious,” a man said in a singsong voice after he and two other guys approached from behind. It came as no surprise that he was addressing Lugal.
The flamboyant threesome—with touches of makeup, one wearing a fuzzy pink sweater, and another with skintight lime green pants—no doubt figured they were going to the same party as the cabbage-rosed Lugal.
“Isn’t he just the most delicious thing?” mascara-guy asked his companions while skimming a finger along Lugal’s chest. Visibly bristling, Lugal scowled at the familiarity. “Where have you been all my life, sweetheart?”
“Are you here for the gay film festival?” pink-sweater-guy asked. None of them seemed to notice Samantha.
“I do not know of this,” Lugal answered. “I am here to shop for typical male garb and to find chains and restraints.”
Samantha nearly expired on the spot.
“Ooh, now that sounds promising,” lime-green-pants guy said. “But you won’t find any sex toys in this place, handsome. Why don’t you come over tonight and I’ll show you my extensive personal collection?” He gave Samantha a fleeting appraisal. “Feel free to bring your fag hag. She can hang out with mine.”
Mouth agape, she couldn’t help growling her displeasure. “Excuse me. I am not his fag hag. I’m his…” Elevating her chin, she cleared her throat. “His girlfriend.” The statement gave her the most delicious shivers.
“Of course you are, darling.”
Samantha’s ego deflated at his incredulous tone and disbelieving expression.
“Ahhh. You are a merchant of pleasure supplies,” Lugal surmised. “Yes. I would very much like to see what you have.”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” mascara-guy offered, fluttering his lashes.
“Oh Jesus.” Samantha worried the guy might get the idea to whip out his dick for Lugal’s inspection. “No, Lugal, they’re not merchants.” She turned to the men. “Look, it’s not what you think, fellas. He’s not gay.”
Pink-sweater-guy looked Lugal up and down, smiling. “Mmm-hmm. Whatever you say, darling.” He and his buddies snickered.
“Seriously,” Samantha said. “He’s just…he’s foreign. You can tell from his accent. He just came over from, uh…Mongolia and,” she swallowed hard, “this is how straight men dress over there. Right, Lugal?”
“Nay.” Lugal gave her a curious look. “I told you, Samantha, I have not been in Mongolia since—”
“He understands very little English,” Samantha tacked on, slapping her hand against Lugal’s mouth. The stern, surprised look in his eyes was a no-nonsense signal that he sincerely disliked the idea of being muzzled.
While this was happening, a few other people passed by. Samantha watched Lugal checking out the jeans and khakis the men wore against the flamboyant clothing of the gay trio.
His hands splayed across his chest, Lugal looked down at himself, clearly horrified. He pinned Samantha with a none-too-happy glare. “These men think I am assinnu,” Lugal accused, and Samantha didn’t need an interpreter to figure out what he meant.
“Ass-in-you? Well of course. Is there any other way but in the ass, luscious?” lime-green-pants-guy said, squeezing Lugal’s biceps.
“Be gone,” Lugal said, disposing of the man’s hand from his arm. “You assume incorrectly. I am not enamored of men.”
“Well that’s a pity,” mascara-boy noted. Lugal narrowed his eyes. “Toodles,” the man said, giving Lugal a wave of his fingers before looping arms with the other two and walking away.
Fists planted on hips, Lugal stared Samantha down. She could imagine from that one straightforward look how Lugal commanded battalions of bloodthirsty soldiers in his time. While it made her knees knock, it also had her clit quivering.
“Samantha…” His tone was menacing as one eyebrow arched in question. She felt like Lucy confronted by Ricky after he’d caught her at another of her shenanigans. “When I told you I felt like an ugly munus in this,” Lugal plucked the sweatshirt, holding it away from his chest, “you assured me this is appropriate male costume for your time.”
“Oh, it’s a costume, all right,” she said, cracking a nervous smile. When he didn’t return her smile, hers disintegrated.
“Munus,” she repeated. “Right. I remember that means woman.” Her eyes roved over him. “I might have exaggerated the truth just a teensy bit when I told you that, but I didn’t have any choice, Lugal. I had to get you here for some acceptable clothes. Since I don’t have men’s clothing in my closet, this was the next best thing.”
As she spoke, Lugal eyed a handsome, buff guy strutting toward them wearing tight, black jeans, a body-hugging black T-shirt and a black leather jacket. Devastatingly masculine, the guy was hot. Like a vampire biker. Not as sexy as her genie, but a definite testosterone-oozing hottie. Thinking of how striking Lugal would look in those clothes had a new flood of juices bathing her pussy.
“I like the look of this man.”
“You mean, in an assinnu sort of way?” Samantha’s feeble attempt at levity was met with a warning scowl. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“You will garb me in that manner,” Lugal stated. “Like a man who prefers to bed women instead of men.” He crossed his arms over his big, cabbage rose covered chest.
Samantha watched as black-leather-biker-boy called out and ran to catch up with the three flamboyant guys who’d just left them, grabbing their asses as he wedged between two of the men.
Samantha giggled.
Lugal frowned.
“Come on, man who prefers to bed women. Let’s go shopping.” Samantha tugged on his hand. Lugal followed, grumbling as he scuffed along the pavement on her flip-flops.
“You told those men you were my girlfriend. What does that mean?”
“I just said that to let them know you aren’t gay,” Samantha explained. “A man’s girlfriend means the woman he—”
“Ahhh, the woman he fucks,” Lugal said as they strode through the big glass doors of the mall entrance. “You were letting them know you and I are fuckers.” He gave a knowing smile.
“Shhh! Oh, for heaven’s sake, no.” Samantha did her best to keep her voice moderate in the echoing mall. “I’ll explain later. And watch your language. You shouldn’t be using that word in public, Lugal.”
“Girlfriend?” he asked, seemingly quite serious.
Samantha gazed left and right at all the moms with little kids in tow. “No, the F-word.” She pressed a finger to her lips in a quieting motion.
She noted the moms she’d spotted had more on their minds than just kids. Lugal was a veritable attraction. While he seemed fairly oblivious to the attention, Samantha discovered that having all the shapely young women making goo-goo eyes at Lugal while giving him blatant invitational looks, brought out her green-eyed monster.
Snagging Lugal’s sleeve, Samantha whisked him into a department store where both males and female eyed her goofily garbed genie like he was a prime, juicy steak.
She never felt so invisible in all her life.
After outfitting him with underwear, shoes and an assortment of clothing, Samantha gazed at Lugal. He now wore a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt, open at t
he neck and rolled at the sleeves of his bronzed, muscular arms. He looked better than a hot fudge sundae and the mall was filled with women who wanted their turn licking the ice cream.
They walked to the store’s checkout counter with Lugal’s new black leather jacket. The female clerk checked out Lugal with clear, undisguised lust. The way she said, ‘Is there anything…else I can do for you?’ with a look conveying her longing in no uncertain terms, made Samantha want to smack that overactive hormonal smile right off her face.
“Do men and women always eyeball you like that?” she asked, a disgusted tone creeping into her voice as the clerk returned her credit card and they left the store.
“Eyeball?”
Samantha tsked out of frustration. “I mean do they always look at you like they want to…you know…”
“Fuck me?” Lugal gave a confident, nonchalant nod. “Always. I cannot fault them, Samantha. They are mesmerized by my perfect form.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, so simply Samantha realized he wasn’t being purposely arrogant. Lugal was merely stating fact. She’d never encountered anyone with such self-assurance. She’d love to have even a fraction of his confidence.
“In my time I became used to others seducing me, throwing themselves at me, because of my reputation as an exceptionally skilled lover, to which you can now attest. At times I believe it even exceeded my celebrated standing as a great leader and warrior.”
Samantha’s jaw dropped. Not because he was incorrect—Lord knew he was spot on concerning his phenomenal sexual expertise—but because of his astonishing lack of insecurity. “Do the words modesty or humility have any meaning to you?” she asked.
Lugal nodded. “Yes. But they are not relevant in regard to my prowess.”
“Or your astounding good looks,” Samantha said sarcastically as they neared the escalator.
“Correct.”
“Oh brother.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ego Master, we’re taking a ride. Just do what I do. Step on the moving stairs and put your hand on the handrail.” She got on the escalator, turning back to catch Lugal’s uneasy expression. He was focused and silent for the short floor-to-floor excursion.
“My rumored heritage as half-god has only added to my appeal,” he said as they left the escalator and walked down the aisle.
Samantha laughed.
“What is it that you find humorous?”
She slid her gaze to him. “You were serious?”
“Of course. It is said that my father is Enlil, who guards the tablets of destiny.”
“What are those?”
“The cuneiform tablets on which he writes the fate of everything on earth. Enlil is so powerful the other gods can’t even look at him.”
“If that’s the case,” Samantha noted with a snicker, “how did he and your mother manage to get together?”
“It was Enlil’s will that she gaze upon his brilliant, fearsome beauty as they copulated.”
“Oh…well, there you go.”
“Where do we go?”
“Never mind.”
“The individuals who lust after me cannot be held accountable. They cannot help themselves. Such was the case with Sabit, the young virgin priestess responsible for my captivity.”
“So, you corrupted a sweet young virgin, hmm? Am I finally going to hear about that?”
Lugal frowned. “Not yet. It stirs too much emotion within me when I speak of it. I will tell you my story soon.”
“Okay. Hungry?” she asked, breathing in a whiff of aromas drifting from the food court.
A wicked gleam sparkled in Lugal’s eye. “I am always hungry for you, little one.”
Samantha’s pussy trickled.
If only he had any idea how uncomfortable it was to walk around the mall with soaked panties, pretending her clit and pussy were behaving instead of keeping her in a state of constant erotic awareness. She blamed it on having to inspect each pair of jeans he tried on, becoming more alert than ever to that fine, firm ass of his as the denim caressed it close.
“I meant for food, you giant walking column of testosterone. Come on, let’s get these bags back to the car. There’s a great little burger place at the other end of the mall.”
“What is little burger?”
“Heaven. Sheer gastronomic heaven.”
Ignoring her damp crotch to the best of her ability, as well as all the turning heads and lustful expressions, Samantha led her genie through the mall to get some good, non-diet grub.
“Stop!” Lugal commanded.
Her breath catching, Samantha came to an abrupt halt. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“We will shop here. For you, this time.”
Samantha looked at the broad expanse of window with the skinny mannequins dressed in fancy bras and panties. Victoria’s Secret. She swallowed hard. She’d never had the nerve to set foot in one of their stores. Not with her plentiful body.
“Oh, no, Lugal. I really don’t think—”
“Come. We will find out what is this secret of Victoria’s.” Lugal grabbed her hand, striding inside.
“But you already made me buy new jeans and some skirts and dresses.”
He’d clearly changed his mind about women wearing pants when he saw the difference between the way she looked in her baggy jeans versus the tight fit of the new ones. He insisted she buy a pair in black as well as blue. She could never wear them out of the house, of course, they revealed too much of her too-ample curves, but she’d be happy to wear them for him if it made him happy.
“Those are for others to see.” Lugal’s eyebrow lifted. “The secrets,” he motioned to all the silky, satiny wisps of nothingness throughout the store, “are for my eyes only.”
Samantha heard may I help you? chorusing around them as Lugal surveyed his surroundings.
“I am a man who knows what he likes. Your help will not be needed until it comes time to make payment.” He dismissed the attentive clerks whose tongues were busy licking their lips as they appraised him.
A haunting smile taking hold, Lugal eyed a deep purple bra and matching panties on display. His smile grew wider when he spotted the matching floor-length semi-sheer robe.
“The color of a Sumerian sky on a late summer’s night,” he said as he fingered the dark fabric. “Your alabaster skin will look like the moon and stars against these garments. You will wear these for me, Samantha.”
She almost moaned out loud right there in the middle of Victoria’s Secret when she saw the hungry look in his eyes.
“At least, until I can peel them from your lush body.”
Chapter Nine
Tucked in a dark booth at Burgers, Spuds ‘n’ Suds, Samantha heard her stomach growl. The last thing she should be thinking about, especially after purchasing a bagful of itsy-bitsy Victoria’s Secret goodies, was chowing down on a greasy hamburger and fries. But the limited burger menu at BSS offered some of the best pub-style food in Portland and introducing Lugal to one of her favorite non-diet meals was a special occasion.
Of course, any good excuse to go off her diet was a special occasion.
While service was always good, this was the first time a server approached so quickly at the height of the lunchtime rush. In fact, two female servers stood there, drooling over Lugal and arguing whose table it was.
Such eager, dedicated employees. Samantha chuckled.
Once the table issue was resolved, Samantha ordered Lugal a bacon-cheddar burger with fries and a beer. She felt certain it would be the best damn meal he’d had in over a century.
“You can take off the sunglasses now,” she told him. She couldn’t resist adding them to the tab as they were shopping. He looked so deliciously dangerous in them. They were sort of the icing on the cake.
Lugal removed the dark glasses and Samantha swore she heard a collective sigh. The server who’d lost her claim to the table stopped by to refill their already brimming water glasses, gyrating her hips for Lugal as she moved.
“Are your shoes comfortable?” Samantha asked Lugal as the displaced server hovered with a dreamy smile.
“I am not used to such footwear, but I suppose they could be considered comfortable. I do like the way the fabric of my breeches hugs my cock.”
The water pourer moaned, overfilling Samantha’s glass.
“Thanks,” Samantha said with a bright, dismissive smile, snatching a handful of paper napkins from the tabletop dispenser to blot up the water, since the server seemed unaware the accident had even happened. “I think we’re okay on the water for now. We’ll signal if we need more.”
The server was too busy salivating to hear a word Samantha said.
“Your service is appreciated,” Lugal said to the woman. “You may go now.”
The young woman bowed, she actually bowed, and then she was off.
“Do you think you’ll be okay here alone for a couple of minutes? I’ve got to go to the ladies room.”
Lugal cocked an eyebrow. “What do the ladies do in this room?”
“It’s the restroom. The bathroom. The toilet,” she whispered, refraining from giggling as she remembered Lugal’s utter fascination with the toilet in her bathroom, flushing it over and over after Samantha explained how to use it.
“Ah, I see. Yes, fear not, little one. I will come to no harm during your absence.”
Lugal watched Samantha walk away from the table. He loved looking at her ass, the way it swayed back and forth with her steps, though he could barely see the gentle movement through the baggy, shapeless breeches she wore today. He would enjoy watching her retreat much more once she wore her new…what was it she called them? Jeans.
He was amazed a woman could look so enticing in men’s costume. As she posed for him in the store, his gaze was lured to the indigo fabric hugging her curves. It caressed her belly and vulva, clasping the cheeks of her ass like possessive hands. The image kept his cock hard and adamant inside his breeches. Lugal’s hand slipped beneath the table to cup himself through the sturdy material.
He groaned, longing to fist himself, squeezing and pulling his flesh in answer to the primeval call. His cock seemed habitually on the threshold of blasting hot torrents of cream all over himself. As a warrior trained in mastering the art of control, he found it extraordinary for his manhood to act in so unruly a fashion. It was as if Samantha had enchanted him, bewitched him to the point that he hardened at the merest thought of her ripe body.
Samantha and Her Genie Page 13
