Flesh For Fantasy

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  Micki sipped her coffee. “So you’re moving to the city for good?”

  “I think so.” She sought her sister’s eyes.

  “Are you looking for my approval?” Micki asked.

  Ellen was surprised, not only at the question but at her inability to give a snap answer. “Maybe I am.”

  “Well you shouldn’t be.” Micki set her cup on the coffee table. “I’ve done quite a lot of thinking over these past months. It worries me that you’ve always looked to me for guidance. Because I am the ‘big sister,’” Micki made quote marks in the air, “we both assumed that I would know what was best, particularly after the folks died. I know what’s best for me, or at least I hope I do, and I have to make decisions with Milt, for us and for the girls, but I haven’t the foggiest what’s best for you any more, assuming that I ever did. You’re different now, more self-assured, more confident and I’ve been aware of that since you arrived. Listen, Ellie, it’s your life. You need to make your own decisions regardless of what I think.”

  Ellen leaned forward and hugged her sister. “Thanks, Micki. I love you, too.”

  Later, Ellen reclaimed her old car from Micki’s driveway and drove to the house that had been her home until recently. Micki had kept the plants watered and the rooms aired so the place was warm and inviting. As Ellen shut the door behind her, she closed her eyes and inhaled. The living room smelled of the furniture oil her mother had always used to polish the top of the upright piano, and the pine candles that had always sat on the hall table. She set her suitcase down and walked slowly into the kitchen. Cookies. Her mother had always had a teddy bear cookie jar on the counter filled with homemade Toll House or sugar cookies. Ellen wandered back toward the living room and touched the long crack in the mirror in the tiny hall, remembering when she and Micki had made it tossing a bean bag in the house despite her mother’s warnings. Smiling wistfully she remembered the week that she and her sister had been grounded afterward.

  Home. It was quite a concept, one she wasn’t sure she understood. This house would always be her home in some ways, yet she felt as though she didn’t quite belong. She thought about her little apartment in the city. Was that home? She didn’t really belong there either.

  And her life. What fit there? Before the lottery, she had been comfortable here. She dropped onto a kitchen chair. Comfortable. There was that word again. Was that what she should be aiming for, comfort? Did Kevin offer comfort? Did Jim? The more she thought, the more confused she became. How much of what she had always done had been settling for just comfortable and easy?

  Suitcase in hand, she climbed the stairs and got ready for bed. Where was her life heading? She asked herself question after question as she slipped beneath the log-cabin-design quilt and, sighing, closed her eyes. She pictured her recent evening with Jim and the last time she’d seen Kevin. His brother, Sean, had asked again whether she would pose for him, although she knew that it was not just her posing that he was interested in. Maybe she’d let him. She found herself wondering what he’d be like coupling with her on that same velvet sofa. She closed her eyes, creating the scene.

  It was mid-afternoon and the sun shown through the skylight in the studio ceiling creating an oasis of light into which Kevin pulled the sofa. He draped it in a soft blue velour and Ellen quickly removed her clothes. Kevin’s totally businesslike hands positioned her on the couch, reclining, with one knee raised, her arm resting lightly across the sofa’s back.

  “Now,” Kevin purred, turning on the radio to a classical station, “I want you to think about your lover. He’s just outside the door and you can hear his key in the lock. He’s been away for more than a week and you’ve been yearning for him to return.”

  Ellen formed the picture in her mind, her lover, who always looked like a cross between Kevin and Jim, about to enter the room and make love with her. She could feel her nipples tighten and her pussy swell.

  “The warm sun shines on your skin,” Kevin crooned, “and you can feel the heat rise in your body from both outside and within. Now the door is opening, and be comes in and kneels beside you, touching your soft belly, your full breasts, the hair between your legs.”

  Ellen was lost in her dream, when she heard another voice. “She’s just as lovely as I imagined.” Her eyes jerked open and she saw Sean at the top of the stairs. “I hope you don’t mind,” Sean said. “There haven’t been any customers for more than an hour and I thought I’d come up and work a bit.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off Ellen’s naked body. “Do you mind?”

  Ellen thought about covering herself and realized that she didn’t really want to. Rather she reveled in the lust she saw growing in Sean’s gaze. “No. I don’t mind.”

  From one of the shelves at the side of the room, Sean pulled a cloth-covered shape and put it on a pedestal table. He removed the drape and Ellen saw that the sculpture was a standing nude that bore a distinct resemblance to her. As she watched Sean’s hands stroke the surface of the clay it was as though his hands caressed her flesh. She lay, lost in the sensuality of two men’s eyes devouring her nude body. As she looked from Kevin’s eyes to Sean’s she knew there was nothing professional about their scrutiny now.

  “You know, don’t you,” Sean said, “that this was just an excuse to come up here and be with you.” As his thumbs brushed the clay nipples Ellen’s nipples became harder and tighter.

  “You are so seductive, lying in the light like that,” Kevin said, his voice hoarse, “that I eventually forget about painting and just want to love you.”

  Slowly, a smile spread over Ellen’s face. “Yes,” she purred.

  Her one-word affirmation was all the two men needed. As one they moved beside her. Sean’s hands were still wet from the statue and, as he covered her breasts with his palms, she could feel the traces of slippery clay. Kevin had brought a tube of cadmium yellow paint and squeezed a line over her ribs. Slowly four hands rubbed and stroked, covering her body with water-based sunshine.

  Without ever leaving her, they were suddenly naked, too, their bodies fully ready and totally aroused. She took a tube of alizarin crimson and filled her palm. She rubbed Kevin’s hard cock with the flame-red paint and skillfully manipulated his shaft. Grinning, Sean filled her other palm with cobalt paint and soon she had a hard cock in each hand.

  The moans of the two men filled the studio as she brought them closer and closer to climax. It was strange that, although they were completely passive, neither touching her, she felt filled and complete. She stared at the two cocks, one blood-red and one deep blue, and rubbed, knowing exactly where each man needed to be touched. She cupped Sean’s balls and slipped a finger toward Kevin’s anus.

  She was supremely talented, able to drive them each higher and higher. She knew that she had the power to make them come or leave them suspended over the precipice. “Now,” she said, pressing Sean’s sac and slowly, inserting a paint-lubricated finger into Kevin’s ass.

  Two cocks erupted, semen mixing with color, loud roars blending with Mozart. She was the eternal woman, able to please anyone.

  In her bed, Ellen touched herself and quickly climaxed and, although Ellen couldn’t hear it, from far away, Lucy cheered.

  The following morning, Ellen showered and walked slowly downstairs. Smelling freshly brewed coffee, she frowned as she entered the kitchen. “Maggie,” she cried, rushing over to hug the older woman. “It’s been forever.”

  “For you maybe. For me it seems like we just parted. Tell me everything that’s gone on since I last saw you.”

  “Everything?”

  Maggie picked up a plastic-coated bag and waved it beneath Ellen’s nose. “I brought doughnuts. Apple-spice filled. We can eat as you talk.”

  Over doughnuts and coffee, Ellen filled Maggie in on her escapades over the past weeks. Through the recitation, Maggie remained silent, content to listen to all of Ellen’s tales. When Ellen finally ran down, Maggie said, “Tied you to the bed? Is this the Ellen I first met last fall, the o
ne who didn’t know about toe-curling, mind-blowing, earth-moving sex?”

  “The very same—and the very different.” Suddenly Ellen’s eyes filled. “Oh, Maggie, I don’t know where I belong anymore.”

  “Do you have to?” When Ellen stared, Maggie continued, Where it is written that you have to know where you fit? Maybe the question you should be asking yourself is what makes you happy?” Maggie paused. “Here’s a game I’d like you to play. Fill in the blank. Blank makes me happy.”

  “You make me happy.”

  “I thank you for the compliment but that’s not enough. Again.”

  “Great sex makes me happy.”

  “Good. Again.”

  “Jim makes me happy. Kevin makes me happy.”

  “Again.”

  “Micki and her family make me happy.”

  “Again.”

  “Okay, okay, let me think.”

  “That’s the idea of this exercise,” Maggie said. “Think.”

  “The city makes me happy. Being on my own and making my own decisions make me happy.”

  “You haven’t mentioned your painting.”

  Ellen thought. “You’re right. Painting forest scenes doesn’t make me happy. You know what I want to paint? Purple trees and red skies. Twin moons and black deserts.”

  “So paint them.”

  “Kevin would throw me out of class.”

  “So? Stop doing what you think you should, and do what gives you joy. Paint twin moons and purple trees. You said great sex makes you happy. What about love? You used to think that that would make you happy. A man and a home like Micki’s.”

  “That’s not so important now. It will come, I think, but certainly not with Kevin. He’s a wonderful interlude, but nothing more than that. And Jim? He’s a great guy, but despite his proposal he’s not nearly ready. We know what we’ve got and that’s enough for now. I need to find me before I can think about any kind of full-time, permanent relationship.”

  “Okay. How about your job, does that make you happy?”

  “No,” Ellen said quickly, “but if I don’t work I’ll feel like a slug. I have to do something. I can’t just sit around all day painting and eating doughnuts.” Saying that she reached into the bag and pulled out a second apple-spice doughnut.

  “So don’t. What would you like to do?”

  “Months ago, when Micki and I were talking about what to do in the city, I considered volunteering in a hospital. I think I’d like to do that.”

  “So do it. You certainly don’t need to earn money.”

  “That’s another thing. There’s all that money sitting there just earning more money.”

  “The problem with that is?”

  “It’s selfish. There are so many people who need. Not the big charities, but people. Individuals. Sick kids and pregnant teens. Children who need to learn how to read.”

  “Do something about it. You can, you know.”

  “I could start a foundation with some of that money. Or just give it away to people who need it.” She took a big bite of her doughnut and, with her mouth full, continued, “I wouldn’t know how to go about any of that.”

  “There must be people who do and I’m sure with a little searching you could find someone to help you.”

  “I don’t want to get all serious and give up sex and fun.”

  “You can do everything. You have nothing holding you down.”

  A familiar voice filled the room. “She’s right, you know.”

  “Lucy, are you eavesdropping again?” Maggie snapped.

  “Of course we are,” Angela said. “Why do you think you showed up in Ellen’s kitchen on this particular morning? Ellen needed a sounding board to help her figure out this thing called life.”

  “Life isn’t easy,” Lucy chimed in. “If it were simple we wouldn’t have all these ‘up or down’ decisions to make. Finding a path through the trees is tough.”

  “And there’s usually no one to help you,” Angela said.

  “Except when you ladies send me down,” Maggie said. She took Ellen’s hands in hers. “Listen. You’re well on your way to becoming something special, a person who has a clear idea of what makes her happy and goes after it. Don’t lose that when I’m gone.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “My job here is done.” Maggie giggled. “I sound like the Lone Ranger.” She lowered the pitch of her voice. “Come on, Tonto, our work here is done.”

  “But I’m still confused.”

  “You’ll be confused for a long time, but you’ve got a direction, some ideas. The most important thing you’ve learned is…fill in the blank.”

  “Do what makes me happy, what gives me direction.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  Again Ellen’s eyes filled. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “How about us?” Lucy chimed in.

  “Okay,” Ellen admitted, “you two also. Without all your help I don’t know where I’d be.”

  Angela answered. “You’d be in the city, in that silly apartment, peeking out at life. Now you’re experiencing it. You’re flying now, babe. Soar.”

  Ellen grinned. “I want to get a kitten. A tiny, scrappy, female kitten. Perhaps I’ll get two, a white one called Angela, and a coal-black one named Lucy.”

  “You’re making me all misty,” Angela said, a catch in her voice.

  “You would get weepy,” Lucy said. “I think it’s cute.”

  Maggie stood, pulled Ellen to her feet, and wrapped her arms around her friend. “I won’t be seeing you again, and if things go the way they have in the past, you’ll forget me quickly.”

  “You’ve been a great friend, Maggie,” Ellen said, tears running down her face.

  “You have, too,” Maggie said, her eyes moist. “I’m so glad I got to share this time in your life.”

  “Okay, you two, stop blubbering,” Lucy said as her voice slowly faded. “Oh and one last thing. If you decide to keep this place, get that mirror fixed. Cracked mirrors make me crazy.”

  “I love you all,” Ellen said as Maggie walked toward the front door.

  “I love you, too,” Maggie said, then opened the door and disappeared.

  For a long while, Ellen stood in the center of the living room and let the tears fall. Then, when she finally calmed, she found a small pad and began to make plans for the future. Her future.

  “So what’s next for me, Maggie said, sitting in the computer room with Lucy and Angela.

  “Oh, we have plenty of jobs for you.” Angela swiveled her computer monitor so Maggie could see. On the screen was a tall, slender, man who looked like a twenty-first-century version of Ichabod Crane. “How would you feet about educating a man for a change? You should be really good at that.”

  “A man?” Maggie said. “What an idea.”

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Midnight Butterfly as much as I enjoyed writing it. I loved creating Ellen and revisiting Maggie, Lucy, and Angela from my earlier novel Slow Dancing, Barbara Enright’s story. I have a great desire to see what happens on Maggie’s next assignment and maybe I’ll write that book eventually.

  When I wrote Slow Dancing, nothing like the tape or CD collections of erotic short stories existed. Since then I’ve teamed up with the folks at Raven Limited to create just such CD collections, original stories that you can listen to or use for communication as Ellen and Jim did in this book. They are available through my Website at www.JoanELloyd.com. Please visit to learn about the CDs, read new erotic short stories I post every month, learn about and read excerpts from all my books, and share information with my thousands of visitors.

  I’d love to hear from you any time, so drop me a note and let me know what you particularly enjoyed and what you would like to read about in a future book. Please write me at:

  Joan@JoanELloyd.com.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

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  Compilation copyright © 2009 by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  Slow Dancing copyright © 1997 by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  Midnight Butterfly copyright © 2000 by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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  ISBN: 0-7582-4996-9