"The Birthday Present (El Regalo)" is Penelope Flynn's erotic short story featured in Zane's most recent anthology, Caramel Flava II (aptly subtitled Sensuality or "Sensualidad").
Miguel, on the eve of his 30th birthday finds out the true meaning of the phrase "One man's trash is another man's treasure." Check your local book outlets or order at Amazon or your favorite online book vendor!
Follow the stories of the intrigue, espionage, passion and betrayal which comprise the past eras of the Glorius Renfield Empire in The Renfield Chronicles...Chronicles Past. Join Yannara, Sebastian and all the Renfields and Revenants whose hands were deep in the evolution and revolution of Renfield.
To follow in her mother's footsteps would be a difficult enough task but add to the complexities that Ramona Stone Renfield, Chief Officer of Investigations and Enforcement is moving swiftly toward the day when she will be consolidating and taking over the reigns of both the corporate and spiritual pillars of Renfield International to be the first of her people to rule alone over a new vast modern Renfield empire where "the lust for power" guarantees that friends can sometimes be as treacherous as the foes.
The Abyssian Homeworld, the picturesque region located in the heart of the shadow universe called the Omnisverse spawned the progenitors of Renfield and only rightly holds a place of great reverence in Renfield hearts and minds. The Omnisverse itself is vast and highly populated, a distinct opposite to its barren sister universe called the Paradox. Renfield custom and culture are deeply rooted in the homeworld and the stories of the homeworld which range from past to present to future and chronicle the struggles, sacrifices, tribulations and triumphs of the Omnisverse.
The short story "The Lesson" by Penelope Flynn spins the erotic tale of Dr. Tracey Kelly, a literature professor who has a jones for her sexy colleague Dr. Maurice Pendergast. When Dr. Kelly misplaces her purse during a party at Dr. Pendergast's home and returns unannounced to find it, he teaches her a lesson about snooping that she'll never forget.
Read an Excerpt
Morning, Noon and Night: Can't Get Enough is edited by Nancey Flowers and available through Amazon.com
Patrick walked into the hotel restaurant at the appointed time. Actually he had arrived fifteen minutes earlier, but knew better than to make his appearance even one minute prior to when he was summoned. As he waited for the Maitre’d’, he scanned the room until he found the table where his luncheon companion, Mistress Bridget was seated. Uncharacteristically, she sat at a table near the center of the dining-room and was chatting on her mobile phone while writing in the luxurious leather-bound journal that he had purchased her for Christmas the year before. She looked up and caught his eye, then smiled and nodded, an invitation for him to approach. He came to lunch straight from his office wearing the obligatory coat and tie. The color scheme of their outfits when they had their meetings was always the same. He wore solid navy blue as it always matched perfectly with whatever shade of pink she decided to wear and because she remarked that it always looked stunning against his salt and pepper gray hair. Her outfit looked very Coco Chanel and was woven in an interesting pink, black and white plaid pattern which accentuated her dark skin tone. She wore a conservative strand of pink pearls and her shoulder-length hair was secured with a pink silk scarf. At her feet was what she lightheartedly referred to as her “bag of tricks” but to the outside world it was your garden-variety large, elegant Coach bag. When he approached the table she extended her hand which he kissed reverently before taking his place across from her. “How have you been, Patrick?” She asked. “I have been well Mistress,” he responded, waiting for her to reveal the reason behind the necessity of their meeting. “How is Caroline?” She asked. Patrick fidgeted uneasily in his chair. Discussing spouses was never off-limits but lately there had been some tension whenever he mentioned his wife Caroline. “Caroline is fine.” He replied. “So she wasn’t affected by anything that happened last month?” “Last month?” Patrick echoed. “You remember last month don’t you Patrick?” She asked with a mischievous smirk. Patrick prided himself on an excellent memory but for the life of him he couldn’t recall anything that might have affected Caroline in the past month. “I mean…” Mistress Bridget continued, “Was she concerned about the time we spent together communicating on the phone?” Patrick’s face grew flushed as Bridget’s brown eyes darkened. “Yes…I mean, no Mistress. She was not concerned.” “Is that a fact?” She asked as she pulled a small MP3 player from her bag. She pressed a button and handed him a tiny ear bud which he quickly inserted in his ear. It was a recording. The voices were his and Mistress Bridget’s. “It’s getting late, Mistress.” “I understand. We have been on for quite a while.” “May I leave you a message regarding my availability for the trip to Colorado?” “You may.” “You are more kind than I deserve, Mistress.” “Good night, Patrick.” “Good night, Mistress.” At that point the communication should have ended but apparently he failed to hang up the phone since the next voice heard on the recording was Caroline’s. “Honey, you’ve been holed up in here in your study forever.” “I was getting some work done.” “I thought you were on the phone.” “I was…for a while.” “Who with? “Oh, it was nobody.” There the recording ended. “M-Mistress,” Patrick stammered as his eyes grew wide and fearful, “You understand that I had to say something. Caroline would have become suspicious.” “I’m sorry,” Mistress Bridget commented without looking up as she poured a dollop of half and half into her tea, “Were you talking to me, Patrick? Seeing as I am nobody that might be a little difficult.” “Mistress, you are making more of this than what it was.” He sighed. “Didn’t you just say that Caroline had no problems with our communicating?” “Yes, yes...I said that but what I meant was…” “…What you meant was that you have been pretending to have this situation under control, when in fact you do not. Haven’t we discussed this before, Patrick? Haven’t I warned you that there will be a certain degree of openness in our relationship or there will be no relationship?” She asked. “Mistress, please…” he begged desperately, “You know I am only complete in your glorious presence.” “And now I’m supposed to be assuaged by empty platitudes? You really have no regard for me at all do you?” She asked as she sipped her tea and motioned for the waiter who walked toward them with menus. “After two years I was under the impression that these issues had been resolved. It seems I was mistaken. At this point, I believe you need to seriously consider whether this is the appropriate situation for you, Patrick.” “You do not understand the problems Caroline might make for me if she even suspected…” “…Your problems with Caroline are not my concern. My only concern is your inability or unwillingness to be a man.” “Would you like to hear our specials?” The young man with the menus asked, smiling. “Yes, please.” Mistress Bridget responded then listened intently as he quickly rattled off the sumptuous items on the menu. She quickly ordered her meal then the waiter asked Patrick if he would like something from the menu, but before he could respond, Mistress Bridget spoke up, “Please bring him the children’s menu.” Patrick’s face flushed red when the waiter without hesitation left to retrieve the menu. “This is unnecessary Mistress,” Patrick groaned. “No, Patrick. It is quite necessary. If you choose to act like a child, then you will be treated like a child.” When the waiter returned with the menu, Patrick was mortified when he observed the white piece of material fluttering over his forearm. “No Mistress,” he said solidly, “I will not--” “--Oh yes you will. You will do exactly as you’re told.” She hissed as the waiter smiled and handed him the children’s menu. “Shall I?” The waiter asked as he snapped the white piece of cotton broadcloth to its full and open position. “Yes, thank you.” Mistress Bridget beamed as the waiter tied the large white bib around the neck of her luncheon companion. Patrick’s face grew hot and red as he watched the other patrons around him whispering and tittering, but Mistress Bridget appeared completely unconcerned and urged him to order quickly. Taking the children’s menu he ordered the first two things he thought he could stomach and was constrained to forego wine in favor of apple juice, as there were no wine selections on the children’s menu. “I’m sorry Mistress Bridget,” He whined as the waiter left the table, “I didn’t mean to offend you.” “Oh, I’m certain you didn’t Patrick. In fact, you never mean to offend anyone. That’s your problem.” “It’s my problem that I am concerned about how others feel?” “No Patrick. Your problem is that you are concerned about how others feel about you, so much so that you insist on taking the path of least resistance at each and every turn.” “Begging your pardon, Mistress but I am not guilty of this thing you accuse me of.” “Aren’t you my love?” She smiled as the waiter returned to the table with their orders. When Patrick saw the waiter approaching the table, his eyes grew wide in horror. The whispers and laughter from the other patrons grew . “Mistress Bridget!” Patrick raised his voice in shock as the waiter set the food she ordered before him on a white melamine plate decorated with pastel nursery rhyme characters and his beverage served in a pale blue baby’s bottle filled to the brim with apple juice. “You can’t really expect me to eat from this; To drink from this?” He hissed across the table. “Yes, I actually expect you to consume your lunch as it has been served to you.” She answered innocently batting her eyelashes. “But this…this is humiliating, Mistress Bridget.” “Hmmm, almost as humiliating as being referred to as ‘nobody’ wouldn’t you think? Now eat up.” She snarled then returned her attention to her lunch. Patrick’s face was beet red and he considered not eating in protest. But he was starving having followed Mistress Bridget’s instructions to not eat dinner the night before nor breakfast that morning. So, despite his mortification, he swallowed his food down past the lump in his throat. Up to that point he had avoided coming into even incidental contact with the baby’s bottle at any cost, but after he was done eating he was so thirsty that he no longer cared what the gawking restaurant patrons thought. He downed the juice from the baby’s bottle and was grateful for it. As he drained the last drop he looked across the table to find Mistress Bridget watching him, with a smug grin. “See, now that wasn’t so bad now was it?” She asked as she leaned over the table and used the edge of the bib to dab the stray droplets of liquid that had settled into his beard. She kissed his forehead then glanced at her watch and announced, “Time to go upstairs.” “Upstairs?!” He spluttered, “I’ll be late getting back to work!” “Did you think this would be the only punishment you’d serve?” She asked while retrieving her bag. “I refuse to go upstairs Mistress Bridget! This was not our agreement!” “Dearest Patrick, just pay the check and meet me in room 1503 she said sliding the card key toward him on the table then heading out of the restaurant and toward the elevator bank. -o)0(o- As Patrick waited for the credit card slip he considered his options. On the one hand he could leave. He could simply pay the check and leave the restaurant. He could then hop on the next public conveyance and be back at work in time and no one would be the wiser. On the other hand that option would definitely result in the alienation of Mistress Bridget’s affections…something he could ill afford. His entire adult life he had searched for her, or someone like her. He had been involved with the typical black leather or vinyl-garbed dominatrixes who paddled and spanked and bound and gagged, but nothing felt quite right until, quite by accident, he met Mistress Bridget. -o)0(o- It was during an innocent online chat group related to some type of music or art, that they first met. And as the individuals became more comfortable with each other, the discussions sometimes turned to issues of sex and sexuality. It was during one of those off-topic discussions that she said something that stuck with him. It was an off-hand statement regarding bondage, something to the effect that if she were inclined to dominate someone she would never engage in all the complex binding…that a well-disciplined submissive has no need for binding, that it is his Mistress’s will alone which should bind him. From that moment he was intrigued, intrigued to the point where he sought her out individually outside of the chat group. They found that they lived in neighboring states only fifty miles away from each other and made an appointment for lunch. She chose a hotel restaurant (he found later that this was her modus operandi). Everything was very predictable for an initial meeting until Mistress Bridget said bluntly, “This has all been very charming and we can spend the next half hour chatting about the weather, or we can go up to my hotel room and you can let me take a look at what you’ve brought for me.” Patrick was as shocked by her words as she was by her stockinged toes which were at the same time drawing circles around his hardening cock. He recalled watching the easy sashay of her hips as he followed her down the hall to her room and thinking that though a stout woman she was not physically unappealing. She wasn’t particularly tall, but then again, neither was he. In her three and a half inch heels they stood eye to eye though she really seemed taller. He smiled as he remembered listening to her philosophize about her theories of dominance and submission while she instructed him on how to properly undress her. As he sat there in the hotel restaurant his cock was growing hard remembering how she strutted around the room in her stockings and garter belt, how her bare brown breasts with pebble hard nipples spilled over the top of her corset and the beige velvet gloves she wore as she waved around her favorite wide wooden hairbrush, then how she lay on the bed and ordered him to stand at its foot and to strip down to nothing. He remembered his hands trembling as he shed every thread of clothing and stood bare for her inspection. She crawled to the edge of the bed, her lips mere inches from his cock, then WHACK! The first smack of the brush against his bare left asscheek. “Turn,” she said coolly. “Yes, Mistress.” He answered and quickly turned to the side. “Nice,” she said flippantly as she observed his hard cock jutting up from his nearly hairless groin. He was a little surprised when she swung her legs over the foot of the bed then grabbed him firmly by the base of his cock with her left hand and swung the brush again, WHACK administering a hard blow to his right asscheek. “There. Now, that’s better…symmetrical.” She said with a wink as she began to slowly stroke his cock with her gloved left hand. “Do you like my gloves, Patrick?” She asked. “If it pleases you, Mistress,” he replied while trying to focus on not coming before he was given permission. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Three hard smacks of the brush rained down on his ass. Mistress Bridget squeezed his cock with a ferocity that almost made him shriek. “Patrick, I already know what pleases me. I asked you a question, dear. If I wanted to waste my breath on meaningless drivel we could have stayed in the restaurant. When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do you understand?” She asked punctuating her question with WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Three more hard smacks of the brush. “Yes, yes Mistress Bridget, I very much like your gloves,” he choked out. “Why thank you Patrick,” she bubbled then continued stroking his cock which had gotten even harder from her effective paddling. “I like things done a certain way, Patrick,” she spoke as she stroked his cock while alternately either running the smooth, broad side of the brush against his ass or spanking him with even, firm smacks, “Now, I’m no stickler for protocol and formality but I do expect that you understand that in this relationship you are my pet and are expected to do as you are told, that I will use you as I please.” “Yes Mistress,” he panted as she continued to stroke and paddle him. “--And that you must trust me for this relationship to be mutually satisfying, Patrick. So if there is something you take issue with, you are required to bring it to my attention immediately. My time is precious to me, so undue delay will be met with the appropriate discipline.” “Yes, oh yes, Mistress,” he moaned as he felt his scrotum tightening, a herald to his impending eruption. “And if you ever feel that this relationship is not meeting your needs, you are required to inform me and request an immediate release from my service. Is that clear?” “Yes, oh yes Mistress! Please, please may I cum now?!” “OH I’m sorry. Have I been going on? Did you say you’d like to cum, now Patrick?” She laughed as she administered a playful smack to the back of his thighs. Patrick could barely respond as the build-up in his swollen sac required all his attention to restrain. Mistress Bridget continued to laugh watching his legs quiver knowing that he was employing all his discipline to hold his spray in check. “All right Patrick, where would you like to cum?” She purred playfully. It was his first inclination to respond, “Wherever you would like, Mistress.” But he bit his tongue and held his focus then replied between labored panting, “Mistress Bridget, I would very much desire to cum on your beautiful breasts.” “All right Patrick,” she said as she drew his hips around to face her, “Cum for me.” Mistress Bridget held his swollen cock over her breasts as Patrick cried out moaning and groaning with abandon as his body convulsed spattering her breasts with silvery-white ropes of semen. The force of the ejaculation ripped though his body, sapping him of all his strength. His knees buckled and he dropped to the floor, exhausted. He sat there for a moment catching his breath before he heard the hushed tittering. He looked upward to find Mistress Bridget still sitting with her legs draped over the edge of the bed swinging her pink and white spectator pump clad feet back and forth, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Mmmmm, my pet you certainly are entertaining.” She said, “But, your job is still half done,” she mused as she pushed back onto the bed and steadied herself upon her elbows. Her knees were propped up and a little parted, swaying slightly from side to side revealing teasing glimpses of the glistening treasure trove between her thighs. He climbed onto the foot of the bed waiting for a cue from his proposed Mistress, leaning in toward the perfume that emanated from her sex, his mouth watering from the anticipation of feasting on her divine pussy. “Ahem,” he was drawn out of his moment by Mistress Bridget clearing her throat. “Dearest, it seems you’ve made a pretty mess up here. Don’t you think you should attend to it, first?” “Yes, of course Mistress,” he nodded and slipped from the bed heading for the bathroom. “Excuse me, pet but where are you going?” “To the bathroom Mistress, to bring you a hot towel to bathe your glorious breasts.” “No dear,” she smiled “You misunderstand me.” She crooked her finger drawing him back to the bed then supported her head and back with a bounty of pillows. “Come, pet. Sit.” She indicated toward her reclined trunk. “You want me to sit on you?” “Don’t worry. I’m surprisingly strong.” Patrick threw one leg over Mistress Bridget’s body and steadied himself sitting on her belly. The product of his previous eruption still glistened on her soft, round mammaries. “Well, go on,” she said. “You want me to…?” “…Yes…It’s not like you haven’t done it before…is it?” Well of course in a fit of curiosity he had, after a robust masturbation session, sampled a bit of his own emissions and didn’t find it completely unpleasant, but allowing someone to witness him consuming the entire load of his own ejaculate was a little unsettling, but Mistress Bridget heaved an irritated sigh and was wearing a look that told him she expected swift compliance. “Yes Mistress Bridget,” he said then slowly leaned forward extending his tongue. -o)0(o- The first swipe of his tongue made Mistress Bridget giggle and he could feel the giggle flutter through her stomach as it lifted him half an inch before settling down. “Go on,” she said. And he continued running his tongue in intricate patterns along her breasts the taste of his thick fluid mixing with the fine sheen of sweat that was rising on her skin. He rolled forward moving lower sucking her swollen left nipple and areola completely into his mouth. “My God,” she sighed and began intermittently stroking his hair, shoulders and back. Encouraged by her response he attacked her hardened nipples, suckling and nipping making her gasp and moan and writhe beneath him. He became conscious of his cock standing straight from his groin being mashed between their bodies with each motion he made forward to take in more and more of her cum-smeared breasts. “Patrick, oh…yes…that’s perfect.” She moaned as he brushed his tongue in broad strokes over every inch of her breasts. He laved her nipples and sucked the smooth skin that made up the cavern between her twin crests. He fondled and caressed her and pinched and pulled at her nipples until she almost tossed him off of her in her throes. When the last traces of his cream were licked from her chocolate breasts Mistress Bridget was breathless and gazing at him with an expression of pure lust. “That was wonderful, my pet.” She panted, “But I hope your tongue isn’t too tired, yet.” “No Mistress, not at all,” he sighed still dreamily brushing his lips against her breasts, “I desire only to serve and pleasure you.” She smiled, still radiating a burning lust, “Then by all means, do.” He dispensed with the slow trek of kisses from her breasts to her mons and immediately took his place between her spread thighs.
Incredible was a word often heard by Patrick in relation to his cunnilingual abilities. He knew he had the magic in his tongue to render most any woman willing to breach trusts, grant favors and make promises they’d definitely keep, just to be considered worthy to seek a spot on the list of those to be serviced by his oral attentions. He was aware that Mistress Bridget, over fifty miles away, knew nothing of his reputation, but she was about to witness firsthand the lengths and depths he would go to, to please her.
LUNCHING WITH MISTRESS BRIDGET
He noticed that her lips smiled but that her eyes did not.
-o)0(o-
Restraining himself was difficult. The lips of her pussy were already swollen and she had opened-up like a blossoming flower, calling to him, inviting him to feast on her glistening fruit, but that was not what he wanted to do, at least not immediately. He wanted to make this engagement last, to make an impression…to be chosen by her.
Hands. He thought to himself. He knew she liked hands so he slowly ran his fingers through the close-cropped hairs that covered her pussy like a freshly mown lawn. For several minutes he listened to her purr contentedly.
“Mmmm. More,” she sighed.
Then before she drew her next breath three fingers had wedged their way inside her. She was admittedly a little tighter than he expected but from the volume of her moaning and force of her thrusting against him she was obviously enraptured with the way he fingered and pistoned her. He was hard as iron but knew he would not yet be permitted to drive his erection into the same space where his fingers were providing her so much pleasure.
When his tongue ultimately made contact with her exposed clit, her breath caught in her throat and her entire body went rigid. Her toes pointed so hard that any prima ballerina would have been envious. He knew not to over stimulate her and quickly closed his lips over the sensitive bud. After a few moments of allowing her to become accustomed to the sensation he began to increase the pressure with his lips while tickling her clit with his tongue. All this in conjunction with the pressure from his fingers sent Mistress Bridget careening over the edge into a violent orgasm. It took most of Patrick’s strength to keep her from bucking the both of them off the bed.
“My God pet,” she sighed, catching her breath, “You are indeed a talented man.”
And that was it. From that moment he belonged to Mistress Bridget.
-o)0(o-
“Will that be all sir?” The waiter asked as he returned the receipt.
“No. Everything is fine," Patrick sighed as he slipped his receipt into his wallet. The hotel card key lay on the table where Mistress left it. Bridget had stepped over the line. She was his Mistress but he refused to be bullied. He stood and prepared to leave as the waiter returned to the table with a small box.
"The lady requested that you bring this with you," the young man smiled then winked.
Patrick slowly opened the box. When he viewed its contents, his knees nearly gave way. To the untrained eye it was merely a piece of cherry cheese. But this was not a simply a piece of cherry cheesecake. It was a message. Patrick took a deep breath then he paused a moment before pulling out his cell phone and dialing.
“Yes,” he said into the phone, “This is Patrick. Cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day. I’ll call in to reschedule later.
He leaned over the table and scooped up the hotel key card. After all, he thought to himself, Mistress Bridget’s punishments are even more delicious than her rewards.
He smiled as he left the restaurant and headed toward the elevator bank, to meet Mistress Bridget so she could serve him his just desserts.
~finis~
GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH BIG DADDY
[EROTICA]
(READ THE STORY OR LISTEN TO THE AUDIO AT SNAPVINE!
GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH BIG DADDY(READ THE STORY OR LISTEN TO THE AUDIO AT SNAPVINE!
"Dammit, Jason!" Paula grimaced as her foot slammed against a metal storage box on the floor, "Could you possibly hold the flashlight a little lower?" she fumed over her shoulder at the 6’3" well-proportioned man who unsteadily focused the flashlight on a door at the opposite end of the room.
"It’s a circuit breaker," he said, still guiding them with his small pocket flashlight, "It’s got to be."
Paula looked at her watch, the luminescent hands barely visible in the pitch black. She sucked her teeth. Her date would be arriving at her house in half an hour and here she was still at the office, fumbling around in the dark. One of her friends had helped her finagle a blind date to her ten-year college reunion that night, but she was warned that her date was a fastidious bastard and would give her a headache if she were even a minute late.
When she offered to stay behind that night and walk "the new guy" through the more complex mid-management office procedures, she had no idea that the half-hour she had planned on would turn into two additional hours trapped on the second floor. A power surge, a broken breaker, who knew what the problem was? But what they did know was that the lights were out and that the security system had done its job and automatically shutdown, which included a full lockdown of the plant. Now, they were stuck in the building and Paula blamed it all on Jason.
Jason had come over from an out-of-town competitor. With his sultry brown eyes, surfer dude dark wavy hair, golden, sun-tanned skin and quick wit, he wowed everyone in the office... everyone but Paula. He would regale them all with his stories of growing up in Harlem and even sprinkled his tales with a little vernacular. It made her sick…another Eminem wannabe, and they all just ate it up. Then on days like today, casual Friday, he would stroll in wearing his polo shirts baring his muscular, well-formed biceps, the close-fitting shirt only hinting at the washboard abs underneath, and his khaki pants form fit to a well-developed ass.
He would tell his surfing stories from his years lived in Malibu; and the women in the office might as well have just worn bibs to the office for all the drooling they did. She would just roll her eyes as they carried on about him like he was the last man on earth.
“Can you imagine what he must be like in bed?” Beck asked to no one in particular as they rode the escalator up that morning.
“With that body, I’d never make it to a bed,” Gina laughed.
“Well, I know someone must have gotten his attention the other day at the staff meeting,” Sherry chuckled.
“I know,” Beck concurred, “I mean my God…was that all real?”
“Please,” Paula muttered as she focused on her watch hoping she wouldn’t be late for the section meeting. This was the third time she heard the story. She didn’t want to hear it again. All she knew was that during the staff meeting when she was about to deliver their section report, Mr. Wonderful excused himself and left the room, the height of disrespect. He may as well have just announced, “I’ve already read the shit and it’s not worth the time it takes to sit here and listen to it.” She was furious, but it seemed no one else even cared. All they were interested in was the latest Jason story.
“You didn’t see it?” Sherry exclaimed to Paula in a clandestined whisper, “The man is huuuuge.”
Paula furrowed her brow and noted dryly, “No, I didn’t see it…. not that I would have wanted to anyway since I’m at work and I realize that work is not a single’s bar,” she snapped at Sherry who was usually pretty level-headed about things. Paula saw how he was just twisting everyone around his little finger and it was really pissing her off. Oh sure, he always came off nice and polite, but she knew he was a climber, a new predator in her already staked-off territory. He told them they could call him, "Jay" or "Jayce." She just called him "the competition."
Paula would have loved to just dismiss him out of hand, but as the weeks turned into months she found he was fast becoming the higher-ups’ "fair-haired boy." She knew there were only so many positions to aspire to and that Jason was one more crab in the pot reaching up toward, what she had determined to be her corner of the sky. Viewing her options, she decided to turn a disadvantage into an advantage and sought to show herself to the higher-ups as a team player. She offered to show Jason the ropes for middle management. It seemed so clever at the time. They walked the floors discussing plan implementations, the locations of resources and communications systems. They had been there for a little over a half an hour when they heard what could only be described as a loud zap; Then the darkness descended upon them. They had been on their way to the elevator and luckily hadn’t arrived, otherwise they would have been trapped there for a very long time. Realizing that they could be stuck in the building until daybreak, they decided to try their luck taking the stairway to the lower parking levels hoping to exit from there.
"Here," Jason called out as he shifted the beam of light.
"What?" Paula sighed wearily.
"It’s the janitor’s closet," he replied, "We should be able to find the circuit panel there."
Paula was uneasy with the idea. She had only been to the janitor’s "closet" once and she felt that she was intruding when she did, but she did admit to having seen some sort of service panel there and since it was on the way to the stairwell, it made sense to at least try.
-o)0(o-
"Wow, this is some closet," Jason remarked as they entered the Janitor’s private area. The auxiliary generator was humming away and the area was well lit. To call it a closet was a misnomer. It was actually where the janitor stayed when he had to work in the building over the weekend. It was basically a large utility closet connected to a small efficiency apartment.
"Here it is!" Jason announced triumphantly pointing at the service panel.
"Can’t you see it’s locked?" Paula noted flatly.
"There must be a key," Jason said desperately looking around the small rooms.
"I’m sure there is," Paula said dropping down onto the pullout couch and pulling off her shoes, "And I’m sure the janitor has it. It’s already too late, anyway. Even if I left right now, I’d never make it back home in time to get ready for my date," she sighed, "besides, check out the floor plan on the wall. There’s no exit from here to the parking levels, anyhow."
Jason stopped his frantic search for the key and scrutinized the floor plan. After several minutes, he dropped his hands to his sides. "We’re not getting out of here, tonight are we?"
Paula shook her head to the negative.
"Damn!" Jason stomped his foot, "I had plans tonight!"
"Didn’t we all?" Paula replied rubbing her injured foot.
"It’s not the same for me," Jason said turning off his now useless flashlight, "I’m new here. This was the first date I’ve had in months."
"I weep for you," Paula said sarcastically, "If I hadn’t stayed to help you, I’d be getting ready for my date right now."
"Sorry," Jason said sincerely as he moved toward the couch, "I know how hard it must be for you to find… you know… someone."
Now Paula was really pissed. Sure it was a rough market for black women over thirty, and maybe she wasn’t Tyra Banks or Naomi Campbell but she certainly held her own in a crowd. Sure things looked bleak out there for a sistah, but she’d be damned if she accepted sympathy from a white boy.
"Why should it be any harder for me?" she demanded.
"Well…" he replied a little sheepish, "I know… Bob told me."
"Bob told you what?" Paula asked becoming really perturbed.
"That you’re… you know… a lesbian…. but I’m cool with it. Live and let live, I always say."
"A lesbian?!" Paula laughed, "He told you that?!"
"Yes… he did," Jason said looking a little off-put.
"God, it figures that ass would say some stupid crap like that," she shook her head with a knowing smile, "Some people obviously can’t take rejection."
“What?" Jason asked his face full of wonder, "You mean you don’t like a man who wears English Leather?"
Their eyes locked and a full five seconds passed before the two erupted in peals of laughter.
"What? You don’t like that sexy thirty pound beer belly that hangs over his belt?" Jason laughed.
"Or his breath, that smells like he’s been eating shit sandwiches?" She added.
Jason doubled over laughing uncontrollably, "Who needs a date? There’s your Prince Charming, right there!" he gasped.
"You’re gonna make me wet myself!" Paula cried wiping the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes as she rose from the couch and limped toward the bathroom.
-o)0(o-
Once inside the bathroom after doing her business, Paula assessed herself in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door. Her eyes were deep brown and her cocoa complexion was flawless. Her figure was round and firm in all the right places. She refused to dye the few premature gray hairs that sprung up in her shoulder length brown twists and she always wore a glossy, blood red lipstick accentuating what she thought was her best facial feature…a wide mouth set off by a pair of full sensuous lips. He’s not so bad, she thought feeling a familiar tingle and heat rising at the nexus between her thighs, then frowned at herself in the mirror, "Don’t even think about it."
"You all right in there?" Jason called from the next room.
"Just washing up," she said as she turned on the water, washed her hands, then splashed a few droplets of water on her face before quickly re-entering the room.
"I thought you fell in," he smiled drinking from a long-necked bottle of beer.
"Where’d you get that?! You didn’t take it out of his refrigerator did you?"
"Oh relax," he said popping the cap off a second beer and handing it to her. "I’ll replace them tomorrow when we get out of here," he said then sank down onto the small area rug. Paula returned to her spot on the couch and sipped at her beer while Jason retold some of the stories she overheard him telling in the office, but instead of sounding pretentious and overwrought she was surprised that the stories were actually interesting and charming, and he was interesting and charming.
She shifted on the couch uneasily, wincing from the pain in her foot.
"Does that still hurt?" he asked as he moved closer and lifted her foot.
"I think I just jammed it a little," she said feeling a little more relaxed thanks to the beer.
"Does this hurt?" he asked as he worked her ankle around slowly in a circle.
"No," she said.
"How about this?" he asked pressing his thumbs into the sole of her foot.
"Ah!" she moaned sharply.
"Hurts?"
"God, no," she moaned almost orgasmic, "What was that ?!" Jason smiled mischievously then continued kneading her foot slowly, massaging each toe and manipulating each muscle. "My ex-girlfriend was a ballet dancer," he said as he expertly attended to her foot. "I’ve had lots of practice."
Paula leaned back and closed her eyes so relaxed that she didn’t even notice when he switched feet, then worked his way up her leg to her calves and then her knees. When she opened her eyes, Jason was sitting beside her on the couch inching her skirt upward as he concentrated on massaging her thighs.
"Uhh, Jason…" Paula trailed off feeling his warm breath on her neck.
"Yeah?" he answered sliding his hand between her thighs making contact with the silky material covering her already wet and hungry lips.
"Don’t do that!" she said but opened her thighs wider.
"Don’t do what?" he asked breathlessly as he nibbled and licked her neck.
"I, I don’t out-date," she sighed squirming against his insistent fingers.
"Me either," he said slipping his finger past the soaked fabric and into her willing opening.
"Jesus!" she moaned pressing downward onto his exploring digit.
"That’s it," he moaned into her ear as he started to fuck her slowly with finger, "let daddy do the work."
"Wait... wait…" she murmured in time as they fell into a rhythm. Jason kept one hand gently coaxing her pussy while the other snaked around behind her to tease her nipple through her blouse. She groaned when he abruptly pulled his finger from inside her.
"What’s wrong?" she asked, her frustration rising.
He grabbed her hand and forcefully pressed it against the large, hard bulge at his crotch, "Here. Touch it baby. You know you want me introduce you to big daddy, don’t you?" He asked.
"Yes, I…but I can’t, really I can’t."
"Why not?" he moaned as she unconsciously stroked and squeezed the thick bulge, her mouth watering at the length and thickness of it.
"You know," she whispered, "I really only date black guys. I know it sounds bigoted but that’s the way I was raised."
"So what? You’re saying I’m not black enough for you?" Jason queried pulling back to stare deep into her brown eyes.
"That’s not funny," she snarled, "being black is not a set of stereotypes and slang terms you can throw out whenever you want to impress your co-workers with your street-savvy. Black people are constantly under siege in this society and people like you just use us to further your own ambition."
"What do you mean, ‘people like you’?" Jason frowned.
"You know…" she smirked, "Vanilla Ice, Eminem, The Beastie Boys… you people."
Jason pulled back, mortified, "That’s what you think?! You think I’m white?!"
Paula was dumbstruck. She looked around the room for any distraction that could pull her out of the embarrassing situation she found herself in. Jason sat glaring at her with his arms folded.
"Uh… well… aren’t you?" she asked.
-o)0(o-
Jason vaulted from the couch in a rage shouting as he rummaged through his wallet, "What the hell is wrong with you people, here?!"
H stopped his search, obviously finding what he was looking for. He tossed his voter registration card on the couch. She lifted up the Florida card bearing the name "Jason Michael Sandberg, Jr." The race was noted as "B" – black.
"Well, you never said you were black," she replied timidly holding the card out toward him.
"Well, neither did you!" he snapped then snatched the card from her and shoved it back in his wallet.
"I guess I just don’t know many black people who look like you," she said.
"Well, everyone in my family looks like me; and I don’t appreciate you inferring that I’m bigoted. I’m not trying to change the world. I just know what I like. I mean what did you think this was?" He asked pointing to his golden skin, "a suntan?"
Paula grimaced, feeling more embarrassed than she had ever felt in her life, as he sat down hard on the opposite end of the couch.
"I’m really sorr--"
"--Save it! I don’t wanna hear it," he muttered then stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.
-o)0(o-
Jason entered the bathroom angrier with himself than he was at Paula. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but for some reason this time it really irked him. He wanted to hit something, but he knew the thing he really wanted to hit was Paula’s pussy. He was so rock hard he could have easily cracked the ceramic sink top with his throbbing erection. Damn why did she have to be so fuckin’ sexy? He liked Paula…a lot. He tried to ignore the itch he got when she was around and was pretty successful…except during the last staff meeting. He sat behind her, as usual when they gave the department reports. He really didn’t pay too much attention to the department reports anyway and used the time in the meetings to flirt with the women in the other office divisions. When Paula rose to deliver their report, that close-fitting skirt she was wearing rode up in the back exposing the bottom half of her ass. Even though she immediately tugged the hem back down, the damage was done. He was an avowed ass man. He almost lost it right then and had to excuse himself from the meeting. He couldn’t look at her again the rest of the day.
Paula was a beautiful woman, but she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Jason was no stranger to beautiful women. Everywhere he went, women fell over him even before he opened his mouth, before they knew whether he was a jerk or not, but not Paula. She remained cool, reserved. He even liked her little veiled attempts to derail his upward movement in the corporation. It was bitchy, but it was also clear that she viewed him as a worthy adversary, an equal. She wasn’t looking to impress him or to get him into bed. Paula wasn’t just beautiful, she was smart, and sexy. She was a total woman, and that was something he could get into… figuratively and literally. Of course he was a little disappointed when Bob informed him that Paula preferred the hole to the pole, but shit happens. He continued to enjoy working with her and being in her presence, even if there was no way she could be interested in him “that way.”
He knew he should have paid more attention to the “out-dating” comment, but the truth was he was so hard he didn’t register half of what she was saying. Once he knew she was game, all he wanted was to plow the valley between those firm brown thighs. Damn. His dick was going to get him in trouble…again. It seemed everywhere he went there was some sistah he couldn’t get enough of, whether she was attached to someone else or not. His family encouraged his most recent move after an irate husband discovered Jason going down on his wife in the backseat of her SUV. The man was pretty well connected and powerful in the business community and threatened to make trouble for his family’s business. So, rather than have the business suffer for his indiscretion, he moved. That was six months ago and he hadn’t been with a woman since. He had expected to end his dry spell that very night with a waitress he had met at a club the week before. They had planned to meet at the same club at the end of her shift, then to maybe have a few drinks and if things worked out, and they always did for him, they’d head back to his place. That was the plan, well at least it was before the power went out and put him up close and personal with the most tantalizing pussy he had come up against in years.
He turned on the sink full force and prepared to splash water on his face, but he hesitated right before he did and raised his fingers slowly to his lips and tasted the residue of his recent finger play with Paula. She tasted good, damned good. He closed his eyes and breathed in. The smell alone was intoxicating and kept his enlarged cock on full alert. He really wished that he could have made his date that night. He needed some release, and the thought of having to sit in that small room with Paula all night long, smelling her pussy was excruciating.
He shook off his disconcert and strengthened his resolve. As much as he wanted Paula, he wasn’t going to just let that Eminem insult go. She was fine, but he wasn’t going to be that easy. She was going to have to do a lot to make up for that. He thought about staying in the bathroom all night but knew it was juvenile. He was going to face Paula all right. He was going to get out of there, get back to work, take that promotion she thought her name was already engraved on and show her just how the game was played. He took a deep breath and opened the door that led back into the small living area. Yeah, he’d show her all right.
-o)0(o-
Paula and Jason sat in silence for over an hour. He was focusing on the television pretending she wasn’t there. She would have loved to be able to ignore him too but he had started her down a road of no return. Even when she thought he was a white guy she was nearly prepared to break her rule to get a piece of that thick monster dick. She took a sip of her beer, which was almost flat, then slid toward him. He glanced in her direction, then hurriedly crossed his legs, but it was too late, she had already seen the king-sized bulge. He was still as hard as blue flint steel and Paula had decided she would not take no for an answer. She was going to get acquainted with Big Daddy no matter what it took.
She slid even closer toward him, slowly unbuttoning her blouse revealing round chocolaty breasts that spilled over the scanty bra she wore.
"I’m really, really sorry," Paula cooed, "It was a stupid mistake to make…and just when we were starting to be friends," she said breathing softly into his ear.
Jason shifted against the arm of the couch trying to cover the lurching bulge.
"I mean, everyone makes mistakes, right?" She asked as she pressed her hard nipples against his bicep and tickled the nape of his neck with her fingertips.
"Cut it out, Paula" he swallowed hard, his voice rasping and thick as he fought against his compulsion to touch her, to run his tongue over those brown heaving breasts. She batted her eyelashes and ignored his griping while continuing her slow seduction.
"But, we can be friends, right?" Paula whispered stroking his thigh then trailing her fingers upward to grip his cock through his pants. "Don’t be mad, Jay" she pouted coquettishly, "I’ll do anything to make it up to you…anything."
"Damn Paula," he hissed through his teeth as she began to tenderly stroke him while sucking his neck. He tried to push her hand away but she just gripped him tighter and all he could do was arch his back, pressing himself in to her massaging hand, and moan her name.
"Let me taste you, Daddy," she begged sweetly while unfastening his belt and pulling on his zipper.
In an instant, Jason’s resolve evaporated. He didn’t care about insults, promotions or whether his date was waiting at their rendezvous point calling him everything but a child of God. He finally had Paula right where she wanted him and he was intent on letting her do him in every way she could imagine.
"Yeah, yeah baby," he moaned pulling her face to his and kissing her lips, "from the first time I saw you I wondered what these lips would taste like, what they would feel like."
"Let me show you," she said gently nibbling his lower lip and sucking teasingly on his tongue.
Jason peeled his polo shirt off over his head and slipped out of his pants as Paula knelt in front of him. His golden body was perfect, sinewy and strong, with solid muscular thighs. Her mouth watered as the thick, meaty caramel-colored tube bobbed in front of her face. "God, it’s beautiful!" She gushed brushing her lips against the hefty tool. He guided her between his open knees as he sat down on the edge of the couch.
"Take it all, baby," he moaned as she sucked slowly on his rod alternately tonguing the head and shaft then taking it down her throat. He grabbed at her hair and stroked her face as she intensified her movements. It only took a few moments before she savored the taste of his precum signaling his coming orgasm.
"Hold up, wait," he said pulling his jerking tool from her mouth and pulling her up onto his lap. "Give me that pussy," he growled as he spread her thighs and pulled her wet opening down onto his thick cock. It took all his will not to explode inside her on the first stroke.
"Shit baby," he cried, "it’s been too damned long!"
He took a few moments to catch his breath while unfastening the remainder of the buttons on her blouse.
“Beautiful,” he whispered as he slipped the cups of her bra down just low enough that her nipples peeked out over the satiny fabric. He pulled her forward so that her right nipple, kissed his lips then he opened wide and sucked as much of her tit as he could into his mouth.
“Jason… baby… please… ” She moaned grabbing at his hair and shoulders as he tongued and nibbled one nipple while he pinched and teased the other. She was at his mercy, a slave to the delicious sensations coursing through her as Jason tortured her nipples while working her up and down his pole. She tried to focus on not coming too soon, but it was too late, she was already at the point of explosion.
"Oh God, I’m gonna cum," she moaned.
"Not yet!" he said, as he pushed her onto the couch on her back. "Don’t cum yet," he ordered positioning himself between her thighs. He plowed into her then lowered himself so that they were face-to-face.
"Now baby, who’s your big black, daddy?" he smiled wickedly as he pulled out all but the head of his cock from her hungry opening and prepared to re-enter her.
"Oh, you are Jason," she giggled until he slammed back into her with such force that she yelped.
"Now, bitch," he sneered, balling a fistful of her thick twists in his hand and began to stroke her deep, "who’s your fuckin’ daddy?"
As waves of pleasure took her over and carried her under she whimpered and moaned, "You, Jason… only you."
"Damn right," he grinned satisfied as he continued to stroke her solidly and rhythmically, while randomly nibbling and kissing, licking and sucking her earlobes, lips and neck.
"Tell me whose pussy this is," he whispered urgently in her ear as he pumped her faster.
"You know it’s yours daddy, only yours," she purred as she lifted up and rotated her hips around his penetrating cock.
He fucked harder, each word punctuated by a sharp stroke, each one touching every part of her hungry love canal, “And who’s the only man you’re ever gonna cum for?”
“Oh, God, please…just you, Jason…just you,” she moaned knowing that she would do or say anything he wanted as long as he continued to feed her pussy with his thick, luscious meat. Despite their differences on other issues, Paula knew Jason was right about one thing. It definitely had been too damned long.
"Here I come, here I come, baby" he growled slamming into her, coming hard, deep inside her, but Paula didn’t hear him. The roar of blood pounding in her ears from her own orgasm obscured everything else. She gripped Jason so tightly that the half moons of her nails, made little wave imprints along his shoulders. He laughed as her body heaved underneath him enjoying the aftershocks of her orgasm.
"Are you okay?" He asked half smirking as he watched her moving underneath him with her eyes closed, slowly rocking from side to side, moaning softly.
"Mmmm, yes," she sighed breathlessly, her eyes fluttering open.
"Keep that shit up," he winked running his hand down her side to rest on her hip. "You’re gonna get me hard again," he said kissing her forehead, " but now I’m hungry."
"Hungry?" she asked incredulous.
"Hell yes. I’ve got to keep up my strength for what comes next."
"And what exactly comes next?" She asked.
"Ask me after we eat," he flashed a devious smiled then slowly pulled his softening erection out of her, and recovered his pants.
Paula sat up resting on her elbow and watched Jason attack the kitchen. She thought of her fastidious blind date and her missed reunion. All those months of workouts and dieting gone to waste she thought, but then again she mused watching Jason putter around in the kitchen, some treats are simply unexpected. She considered how strange the day had been and how interestingly things had turned out, then quickly pulled on her skirt and blouse and joined Jason in the kitchen.
Penelope Flynn copyright 2006
