Love Letters Volume 5: Exposed

by Ginny Glass, Christina Thacher, Emily Cale, Maggie Wells

  “Woman, you are playing with fire here.”

  “Good. Now, make it worth my time.”

  Apparently that was all he needed to hear. In one quick move, he had her plastered against the shower wall, one leg up on the water faucet and the other barely touching the floor of the tub.

  He was forceful, but never so much that it hurt. With each stroke, he seemed to stop and assess whether he’d pushed past her comfort level. When the only thing she did was groan, he took the hint and pounded in to her more. She’d never let anyone be this rough with her before. There was a level of trust with him that her prior lovers never had. It wasn’t about who they were at this moment, but all the history behind them. This was the guy who’d carried her back to the house when she skinned her knee, the one who’d sat with her while she cried after her grandfather died. He’d never hurt her—not on purpose—and she didn’t think he ever would.

  Her body melted into his. Soon she couldn’t keep track of whose hands were doing what, except that she was positive it was his finger that kept pushing against her clit, driving her toward the edge for a few minutes before backing off. Her body tingled from her toes all the way up to her hair. She couldn’t even feel the water on her back anymore.

  This was sex with Austin. It was so much better than anything she’d ever imagined. Not because he was amazing—which he was—but because he was Austin. He might have more facial hair than she remembered, but he was the same sweet and wonderful guy she’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

  And here she was falling for him all over again.

  Except they weren’t teenagers sneaking off to his room and hoping no one saw their innocent kiss through the open door.

  Though to be fair they’d started off the evening with him eating food off her naked body in public. Not exactly the kind of story people told their children.

  He pressed into her again, this time following up by dipping his head and taking her nipple into her mouth.

  Who the fuck cared? They’d stick with the whole “his mom was my piano teacher” story in public. The real story would be saved for Saturday evening reminiscing.

  Her whole body started to shake and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer. Kacey dug her nails into his shoulders and bit back the orgasm she could feel coming on. She wanted it to last forever. What if this was her one shot?

  She didn’t have a choice though. The slightest flick of his finger and she completely lost it. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have ended up on the floor. He kept her steady, continuing to thrust into her throughout her orgasm, her muscles spasming around him. As she started to come down, his own orgasm ripped through his body, and he growled as his body tensed.

  The water rained down on them and he curled his back to keep it from hitting her face. For a minute, neither of them moved, content instead to hold each other. It couldn’t last forever though. He pulled away and made sure she was stable for stepping out of the shower. A second later, he flung the curtain open and held out an oversized fluffy white towel for her.

  She turned the water off and moved into his arms, allowing him to dry her off and wrap her up in the soft fabric.

  “So?”

  “So…” She wasn’t sure where this was going, but she certainly hoped he wasn’t about to show her the door.

  “Was it everything you’d always hoped for? Sex with me?”

  “Who said I’d been thinking about it before a couple hours ago?”

  He wrapped a towel around his waist and led the way toward his bedroom. “Please. You had the biggest crush on me.”

  “I had a crush on you? You were the one who kept following me around.”

  “I don’t think so.” He pulled back the covers on his bed and motioned for her to crawl in.

  She dropped the towel on the floor and jumped between the sheets. Without the warmth of the water, she was starting to shiver.

  “But we’ll have plenty of time to argue about that later.”

  “Later?”

  “You didn’t think I was going to let you run out of here the minute we finished, did you?”

  She had wondered. It might be Austin, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that he hadn’t changed at all. Maybe he was the one-night-stand type now. A onetime reunion between old friends who happened to run into each other and needed a bit of comfort.

  “I’ve waited years for it to be the right time for the two of us to get together. I had pretty much given up until I saw you tonight. I figure there must be a reason you ended up back in my life. This is a huge city and we could’ve lived here our whole lives without knowing that the other one was nearby. Instead, we end up at the same party. This is my chance to show you I can be the boyfriend you always dreamed of.”

  “Boyfriend?” She managed to squeak out the word. It’d been a whispered wish as she was falling asleep at night, but nothing more. She hadn’t even dared speak the word aloud to her closest friend, and here he was saying it as though it was no big deal.

  “If that’s what you want. Please tell me it’s what you want.”

  She couldn’t answer him. Instead she nodded until she was practically sick from the motion.

  “Good. Now, why don’t you come closer and I’ll warm you up.”

  She slid across the sheets and let him wrap his arms tightly around her. “So, got any more surprises for me tonight?”

  “You bet. After the nap and another round of sex, I’ll break out my senior yearbook and show you exactly what you wrote.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Kacey cozied up to him, resting her head against his chest.

  “Oh, but I would.”

  *

  T Is for Tango

  By Christina Thacher

  Sonia had lovely legs.

  Adam noticed them when she first came to temp for his fledgling ad agency, but he didn’t like to look too closely or for too long.

  Dave, his partner in A+D, chided him for his reticence. “Hey, I’m the one who’s married with kids. I’m not allowed to look. You’re single. You get to appreciate the temp’s legs. And ass. And boobs.”

  “And a sexual harassment lawsuit?”

  “Nah, man, you have that all wrong. Women like to be appreciated. You gotta be subtle, though. You look, but not too much. You never touch. And you don’t leer.”

  “What’s ‘leering’ in this context?”

  “If your tongue is hanging out or there’s drool, you’re leering.” Dave waggled his eyebrows.

  Adam laughed. “You’re disgusting.”

  “No. Just married.”

  Dave had left early that afternoon. Adam was alone with Sonia, and he was aware of her legs. This time, though, he had an excuse. She was at her desk in the middle of the converted loft in Portland, Maine, bent at the waist, straightening the seams on her sheer black stockings.

  Her desk was in the large inner room of their agency. Dave’s and his offices overlooked the street, so they had windows. To light the inner room and banish that cave-like feeling, the walls between the offices and Sonia’s desk were glass.

  He could see everything she was doing to her stockings. Seamed stockings he was pretty sure she hadn’t been wearing when she came in that morning.

  Wait, hadn’t she been wearing trousers? Which made sense for January. Only now she had on a flouncy black skirt, a long-sleeved wrap-around top that tied at the waist and plunged at the neckline, and strappy shoes. Plus the sexy stockings.

  Adam wanted to play it cool, have some papers in his hand when he walked over to her desk so he could casually say, “Going out?” Trouble was, he knew cool was a stretch for him. And Sonia, with her amazing auburn hair now coiled at the nape of her neck, and her rich cream skin—well, she was über-cool.

  He tried to focus on something else. The poster for their successful campaign for Cumberland Breweries, maybe, or the blow-up of Casco Consulting’s print ad. Instead, he watched her get ready to leave. By the time she put her coat on, he was
back at his desk, head bent over some ad copy. He heard the studded metal door slide open, then slam closed. He wondered where she was going—at night, in sheer black seamed stockings. Probably a date. With some lucky guy. Some lucky cool guy.

  A week later, the same thing happened. It was Thursday, which was Dave’s night to be home early to watch the kids while his wife, Edie, went out with “the girls.”

  “They say it’s a book club,” Dave scoffed, “but from the amount of white wine they consume, I’m guessing they just trash the husbands who make it possible for them to get together.”

  Sometimes Adam worried about the state of Dave’s marriage.

  A little after five, Sonia stuck her head in Adam’s office. “I’m going to be leaving soon. Anything else you need?”

  Adam tried to be casual as he checked that, yes, she had on slacks, a floral sweater and fairly conservative shoes. No plunging neckline, no sheer stockings.

  “No, I’m good. Have a nice evening.” He forced his head back down even though he couldn’t focus on the numbers in front of him. Ten minutes later, he heard the distinctive click-click of high-heeled shoes.

  There she was, this time in a stunning red dress with a loose skirt, tight sleeves and a low-cut neckline. She put her foot up on the side chair and ran her hands along a smoky stocking, letting her wrists push the skirt out of the way. Gorgeous.

  Adam’s mouth went dry—turned out that physiological reaction wasn’t a cliché—as the skirt fell back almost to her hip. Sonia adjusted the solid top to her stocking, refastening the garter belt, then lowered that leg and lifted the other for the same treatment. Only she must have shifted her body just slightly because Adam could see that her panties were red. Red lace.

  He had to be hallucinating the scent of her. No way was he close enough actually to smell that subtle aroma of a woman’s arousal. And who said she was aroused, anyway? He was hard as a rock—thank God his desk hid that—but she didn’t even know he was here.

  She lifted her head, the cloud of auburn hair drifted back over her shoulders, and she stared right at him. He opened his mouth to say something, some lame apology or something. She blew him a little kiss with lips that were now painted scarlet, a shade darker than the dress, and two shades darker than those panties.

  She’d been gone for a full five minutes before his erection subsided.

  *

  The advertising business, which pretty much died in December, got busy again mid-January as clients focused on their spring and summer campaigns. Every Friday Dave and Adam met to discuss, among other things, whether they could still afford Sonia. So far, the client base they’d built the year before was stable and even growing.

  After the meeting it was Adam’s job to give Sonia the good news.

  “Hey.” He mentally rolled his eyes. This is why he didn’t date much. He’d been told he was an okay-looking guy, but he felt hopelessly dorky around beautiful women.

  “Hi.” Sonia’s voice was low and resonant, like that last note on the organ after a melodic hymn. She looked at him and he dropped his gaze to his hands, clutching the low wall along the back of her desk.

  He told his hands, “We’re keeping you another week. Will you call the temp agency and let them know?”

  “I’d be happy to, Adam.”

  He glanced up. Something in her eyes reminded him of that little kiss he’d imagined she’d blown the night before. He adjusted his rimless glasses, smiled at her, hesitated, then went back to his office. He should never have looked at her…her panties. Wildly inappropriate for an office relationship.

  Business. Stick to business with the temp, bud.

  That exhortation lasted until four-forty-five the next Thursday afternoon when Dave popped his head in to say he was off for the evening. Just like that, Adam remembered.

  On Thursdays Sonia changed.

  Adam decided he’d better start looking for artwork for the Peterson print campaign. Trolling the stock photo websites was like falling down a rabbit hole. Hours could go by before he’d look up.

  Twenty minutes later, he’d found the perfect photo. He stupidly glanced up. There, just beyond the plate glass wall of his office, was Sonia, changing. She must have figured he was oblivious, or already gone, or something, because she was changing her clothes at her desk.

  Off came the thick cowl-necked sweater she’d worn during the day. Then her black trousers. She shimmied them over her hips, then bent over to pull each leg off individually. She was facing away from him, which meant he was staring at her heart-shaped ass, beautifully framed by pale pink panties that weren’t quite opaque.

  Dry mouth: it’s how you know you can’t believe your eyes.

  He must be in rough shape if bad ad copy was his only defense.

  He told himself to turn away. Even if she wanted him to look, he shouldn’t. Then her hands flicked over the back hooks on her bra, and it was gone. Pure alabaster from the dark red hair to the pale pink panties, with just the faintest rosy line left from the elastic sides of her bra.

  He couldn’t see her breasts. In fact, what he could see would still be considered decent by the FCC. Trouble was, Adam knew Sonia was naked from the hips up. That was way different from theoretical nudity on TV.

  On came the stockings, one at a time. These had black lace tops that clung to her thighs. Even so, she put on a black lace garter belt, slipping the ribbon garters inside her panties. It took Adam a moment to figure out why she was doing that. The reason should have embarrassed him, but it just added to the intimacy of what she was doing. Then she repeated that move from the week before, resting a foot on the straight chair and smoothing the stocking all the way up before attaching it with the dangling garter clasps. Then the other leg.

  She was almost in profile, but her left arm kept Adam from seeing her breasts. Good. If he saw her breasts, it would be so wildly inappropriate that he’d have to ask for a different temp. Someone a lot less sexy.

  She reached for a black satin bra. She leaned forward and jiggled her torso before standing up and hooking the bra at the back. Only then did she turn enough for him to see—oh, God, it was a demi-cup bra. She took her time adjusting each breast so that it was perfectly nestled and the nipples—hard, presumably because they kept the loft space fairly cool—were just peeking out at the top.

  If Adam had been younger, maybe still a teenager, this would have been the pinnacle of sexual arousal. To have seen a stunning woman in skimpy underwear touching her breasts. He’d have come on the spot.

  The dress—in a flat black fabric that clung to her curves and with a slit nearly to her panty line—was magnificent. Knowing what was underneath it…that was what would keep him awake at night.

  Sonia folded her work clothes neatly, put on her coat, waved at Adam, and left. Her look—lidded eyes and a half-smile—was both mocking and erotic.

  It had been a performance. And she knew he’d witnessed the entire show.

  *

  Adam deliberately scheduled a visit to a client for late the following Thursday. Just the thought of Sonia taking things even further was enough to make him break out in a sweat. He knew he should tell Dave or fire her or something, but he didn’t want to do any of those things. He didn’t even want to talk to her about it, explain that she really couldn’t strip down to her undies in the middle of their workplace. She’d wink at him. He just knew it.

  Actually, Adam wanted to watch her change from a conventionally dressed administrative assistant to the smoking hot woman who went out on Thursday nights. And what did she do dressed like that? He puzzled over it as he walked back to the office from the meeting. He eyed the digital clock on the bank—five-twenty. Sonia had to have left by now.

  Heading away from the briny tang of the waterfront, he turned the corner to walk to their building in the Old Port and there she was. High heels, black stockings and her calf-length black coat. She was walking away from him.

  When he got to their building, he had to decide. Follow
her or let her go. He never quite decided, he just kept walking. He expected her to turn into a parking garage, or catch a bus, but she walked almost all the way to the banks and office buildings lining Congress Street. Before she reached the trickle of workers making their way home, she made a quick left and was gone.

  Adam reached the spot where she’d disappeared. Not a street corner or even an alleyway. It was a doorway with a discreet sign. Dance Lessons. He stood there, undecided, for a long time—long enough to feel his hands getting cold—before he opened the door. Ahead of him was a steep flight of stairs. At the top was another glass door and the same sign. He pushed on the handle. Unlocked.

  He went into a foyer, shadowy and quiet. He could see a short hallway and hear voices.

  Sonia’s seductive tones. “Men, you’ll start with your left foot. Ladies, you’ll go back with your right foot. Ready? T—A—N, G, and—O. Slow…slow…fast, fast and…slow. Good. Jeff, I want you to relax your knees, keep them loose and flexible. Debbie, you’re safe. You can stop looking at your feet.”

  Adam stepped quietly to the arch leading to the dance floor. There was Sonia, an exotic creature in a dark red dress that made her hair into a living, glowing heat source. She was demonstrating the steps to several couples, all in blue jeans or casual slacks, sneakers or Bean boots. One guy stood off to the side, near the sound system. He had on a tight, V-necked T-shirt and snug trousers, all black.

  Sonia held her hand out to the lone man. “All right, Tom and I will demonstrate two variations to the ballroom tango, the rocker step and the promenade position.”

  Tom started some Latin music with a staccato rhythm. Sonia stepped into his arms, her back arched slightly, her head at an angle, her elbows out. Efficient temp, sexy temptress, dance instructor…and now she and Tom moved as a single unit—fluid movements from the waist down, near stillness from the waist up.