good girl astray

Fiction: Guard Dog - chapter 7

Wed, 03 Oct 2007 15:02:06 GMT

Chapter 7

Eleni wandered aimlessly around the boat, trying to steer her mind toward her abandoned projects rather than the attractive man she had left lying in bed. The first thing she could think about was the missile guiding system. She had almost completed it when her work had been so excitingly interrupted. The only details left were what constituted the Nikodemus touch that would make her work go beyond adequate and reach the level of excellence. It was uncomfortable to realize that this time those touches were not able to keep her mind occupied. Her latest project was now linked to indelibly David Obermann, the man hired to steal her work before he had been hired to protect her.

She walked up on the deck. The midday sun was shining brightly over the Mediteranean. It set her skin on fire and burned her eyes, but she ignored it. She propped her elbows on the edge of the deck, staring unseeingly at the sparkling sea. Yet all the light of the sun mirrored in the boundless sea could not free Eleni's mind from the dark. The threat to her life, the monster who was behind it was the most prominent among all the shadows.

Even during the mad dash of the past few days, information had gathered, bit by bit. Her mind assembled and disassembled it, searching for the shape of truth. She tried to put a stop to her thoughts before the painful truth became clear. She had spent too many years in search of clarity to be able to cage up the shaping truth behind walls of denial. The name crawled into her mind. The one person who had the inside knowledge, about her home, about her brother, and about her. The one person to whom she had given that privileged information herself. One who had the right to know and who by all law of nature to keep her and her brother's secrets. Their father.

With the bitter truth in her soul, Eleni thought about her brother. Anghelos had probably known from the very start. He had either wanted to spare her the pain or, equally likely, he wanted to carry out his vengeance to such extremes that he would be assured of Eleni's disapproval.

She was so deep in thought that she didn't even hear the man's footsteps. The feel of his hands on her shoulders was the first warning of his presence. The tingling sensation that went through her was all the recognition she needed. She leaned back, and smiled noticing the split second hesitation before he leaned over her, half embracing her.

"No food onboard?"

Eleni shook her head, grateful for his mundane question. Her stomach growled its agreement, but she was used to hunger pangs. Long nights and days spent in her laboratories had gotten accustomed to it. If she had something to occupy her mind, she could easily stand food deprivation.

"I just want to forget," she said, thinking about her father, her brother and the whole power struggle rather than hunger.

"As you wish," he said, removing his arms from around her shoulders.

She missed his embrace the instant he ended it. She turned around to look at him, trying to conceal the need she felt. She closed her eyes before his gaze would trap her. She needed him. Her own father had betrayed her, and now she was at the mercy of this stranger.

His gentle words echoed in the darkness behind her eyelids, fighting the menacing spectre of her father.

"You can make me forget?" she whispered opening her eyes, not quite believeing anyone could do that, and yet, trusting him enough to hope.

"Exercise," he said jovially, offering her a hand to stand up.

Eleni looked at the proffered hand raising an eyebrow. His tone was not the same insinuating one he had used at the beginning of their adventure. He sounded playful, yet serious. She realized that he did mean physical training, and not sex.

"Do you really think that's a good idea? We don't have food, or water. Should we waste our energy like that?"

She was trying to resist his offer but his eyes captured her, held her still, bent her to his will. A smile warmed the black gaze, making her submission easy, even enjoyable.

"You didn't look around too carefully there is water onboard."

"Oh," she said.

She took his hand, and stood up with a heavy sigh. She had detested the long, arduous hours of physical training. There was a good chance that having the Doberman as her trainer would be anything but boring. Still, it was going to be hard work.

The man squeezed her hand as she arose, and pulled her to his chest as soon as she was up. He lowered his head, but before Eleni could even prepare herself for the kiss his mouth was next to her ear.

"Ready?" he asked huskily.

Heart thumping madly in her chest, Eleni lied with a nod. She was far from ready. On one subject, she was sure that she was right. Anything but boring.

He tightened the arm around her waist for a moment before releasing her. She followed him, shivering in anticipation. By the time they entered the fairly large storage area below the deck, Eleni's conscious mind no longer had room for thoughts of her father's actions or her brother's retaliation.

"What exactly did you mean by exercise?" she asked, a little worried.

"Aikido."

"I interrupted the aikido training training long before the accident. It was a waste of time."

"It's never useless to learn to defend yourself."

"Aikido is of no use when someone points a gun at me."

"Yes, it is."

"Or aims a missile at my house," she went on.

He looked at her with amusement painted over his features. It made him look a dozen years younger. Made him look like one of the cocky, smirky Cambridge boys she used to fancy but felt too awkward to talk to. The ugly Greek duckling had lost her awkwardness long ago. She met his gaze without hesitation, employing her last argument.

"When you chose these clothes I don't think you considered exercising. Do you want me to train in this?" she asked, pointing down at her tight, short skirt.

His gaze glided down over her body. Used to summer's heat as she was, Eleni's temperature skyrocketed under his examination.

"Maybe not," he said.

His voice sounded low and almost hesitant. As if he was still trying to decide. Eleni attempted to guess whether he was in the middle of an inner struggle. She could usually read people without much effort, but this time she was in an whirlwind of her own.

"Some stretching," he added after a long, tense silence.

Whatever had been going on inside him was sorted. He sounded assertive once again. She licked her lips nervously. His voice might have been back to its usual, professional, commanding tone, but his eyes were still on her body.

"My skirt's going to burst," she said.

"I'll take the chance," he answered her with a smirk.

Eleni blushed as she scowled at him.

"David, pleeease," she almost whined.

He stepped next to her, put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around.

"You're not getting out of this," he said, beginning to raise her arms. "Don't use my name like that," he added in a strange tone that went through every layer of her soul.

Eleni felt her muscles start to protest at the same time as she felt her already very short skirt ride up, revealing her thighs completely.

"How do you want me to use it? When may I call you David, David?" she asked, her mind almost overwhelmed by his proximity.

"Do you want me to start calling you Eleni, Eleni?" he asked.

The young woman shivered at the sound her name rolling off his tongue. He pulled her up by her wrists, making her stand on tiptoes and arch her back. Her skirt was so high now that she could feel the fabric of his jeans rub against the skin of her bare bottom.

"Stop," she whispered.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, loosening his grip on her wrists.

"No," she admitted, "but I can't stand it anymore."

He slid his hands down along her arms. She startled when his palms passed over her breasts. There was no possibility of carelessness. He squeezed her breasts a little before sliding his hands all the way down to her waist. Once there, he gripped her hips and pulled her into him. She tried to step away out of instinct, but his grip did not allow it. He started rubbing his groin against her ass at the same time as his lips touched her neck.

"Should've never gotten to this," he whispered as he kissed her.

"Do you want to stop?" she asked in a daze.

His grip on her hips became almost painful.

"No."

The word carried such longing that shocked Eleni even more. She wondered if they should go all the way. She wanted him, to a level of intensity unparalleled in her experience. Her conscious mind told her it wasn't wise, but at the same time she was fully aware that she would be plagued by painful regrets if she put an end to this.

"I'm afraid," she said before she could stop herself.

"Of me?" he asked, releasing her from the intimate embrace.

Eleni turned around instantly and encircled his neck with her arms. She looked him straight in the eyes when she exclaimed her breathless "no".

"No! Not of you. Never of you," she whispered while she pulled his head to her and stood on tiptoes.

His dark gaze searched her eyes for signs of deceit. She let him examine her soul for as long as she could, but once their lips touched keeping her eyes open became more difficult with every second.

The kiss they had shared in the club the night before was only a pale prequel to this kiss. Eleni's world disappeared, nothing but this man existed for her. She felt him work the clasps of her leather top. It was soon on the floor. She gasped at the sudden freedom and moaned when one large hand began fondling her breasts. The left arm kept her glued to him when the right hand teased and tweaked her nipples.

"I wanted to get my mouth on them since I got you out of the shower!" he exclaimed softly as he slid, kiss by kiss, along her neck, down toward her breasts.

Eleni moaned quietly, and her hands were hesitant when she dared to caress him. Her fingers were trembling when she reached for his T-shirt and started pulling it up. She needed to touch him, feel his skin, feel everything. She pushed away her fear, allowing the wonderful sensations to take over her.

to be continued...

Fiction: Guard Dog - chapter 6

Sat, 02 Jun 2007 20:11:26 GMT

Chapter 6

Eleni woke up abruptly from her peaceful slumber. She'd always loved sleeping on board the family yacht. The sounds of the sea and the gentle rocking of the boat helped soothe her anxieties. She soon became aware of the reason why she awakened. There was a fight going on just outside the cabin door. She jumped out of bed looking around frantically for something she could use as a weapon. She grabbed a lamp from the nightstand and held it in sweaty palms, ready to raise it against any unfriendly intruder.

The noise of the fight stopped, and soon she heard whoever had won walk away. Heart hammering against her ribs, Eleni hoped with all her soul that the unconscious body she could hear being dragged away was not the Doberman's. When the door finally slammed open, Eleni's arms flew up, holding the lamp up in the air, ready to smash it over the attacker's head. She threw it on the bed the instant she saw that in the doorframe was only her bodyguard.

The man looked terrible. She could see several bruises and cuts even in the dim moonlight. He was moving a bit stiffly and by the time he took the first step into the cabin, Eleni could see he had trouble walking.

"David!" she exclaimed and rushed toward him.

The man's gaze flickered over her face when he heard her, but didn't say anything. She put an arm around his waist, offering to support his weight at least in part. He put an arm around her shoulders and leaned on her for the few steps to the bed. They sat next to one another on the edge of the bed, his arm remaining around her even when Eleni removed hers.

"Are you badly hurt?" she asked in a small whisper, praying that his answer was going to be no.

He slid his arm a little way up from so he was holding her neck in the crook of his elbow. She felt the muscles around his mouth twitch in a smile when he pressed his lips on her temple.

Not very professional of him, Eleni thought idly. On the same train of thought, she realized that the guilt she felt about him being hurt was unreasonable. He was paid to protect her. He was supposed to take whatever her enemies threw at them.

"I'm sorry you got hurt because of me," she said in a rushed whisper, standing up. "Let me see those injuries and clean th..."

"Not because of you," he interrupted her, holding her wrists, forcing her to remain in front of him.

She looked at him, surprised. His gaze was dark again, and she could see something strange in his features. She would've said it was guilt, but it was an irrational supposition. Why would he feel guilty about anything?

"You're safe. They didn't know who you are. This was about me," he said.

He kept looking at her with a strange intensity, as if he was anxious about her reaction somehow. Eleni assumed that Nikos hadn't been as ready to forgive and forget as he had appeared earlier in the club.

"Oh," was all she said on the subject. "Where do you think I could find a first aid kit? You need those injuries dressed."

The man only held her hands tight for a while, then turned them palm up and placed a reverent kiss in the centre of each one. Eleni shivered at this unexpected gentleness. She bent at the waist and pressed her own lips on his forehead, next to one of the fresh cuts. She felt the congealing blood smeared on the corner of her mouth, but she did not want to remove her hands from his in order to wipe it off.

"We'll be fine," she whispered, her lips and her breath brushing his skin with every word. "I trust you."

He drew in a sharp breath, but instead of saying anything more, he let go of her hands. Eleni tried not to show her disappointment, straightened up and started to look around the room for something she could use as disinfectant.

"Damn!" she said loudly, flopping back on the bed. "Let me see them. Not that there's anything I can do except lick them clean!" she exclaimed frustrated.

She realized what she had said only when she heard him laughing.

"I might take you up on that," he said, standing up with some difficulty. "Later though. We have a bigger problem right now. We don't have a crew anymore and I'm not sure I can override the boat's security system. Any chance you can?"

"We don't have a crew?" she asked, sounding unaccountably perked up at the news. "I might. I have to see what they have. Lead the way."

They walked out, and Eleni noticed with surprise that the apparent emptiness of the boat made her feel better. She was aware that the crew must have vanished somewhere in the waves, but she knew this in the same offhand manner in which she knew about the people who died because of the Nikodemus family business. Everyone must die someday. It was a precept that had been explained to her since early childhood, when her parents shaped her notions of good and evil.

It took Eleni less than an hour to hack into the boat's rather sophisticated security system and re-write it in a way that would offer them some level of privacy. She was aware that the all knowing eyes of several intelligence agencies satellites would be able to track them, but as long as they were seen as one of the regular flux of black market weapon dealers, there would be no trouble. Anghelos had taught his little sister as well as he could about the workings of intelligence agencies. The guardians of the world's peace tolerated a level of unsanitary activity as long as it wasn't harming their plans.

"How are we for supplies?" she asked her dozing bodyguard once she took over the ship.

"We have enough to reach England," he said.

"Are you sure England's a good idea? I always found the English rather keen on security," she said.

"There's another place I thought about, but it's too far. We'd have to stop to refuel."

Eleni smiled.

"I'm in no hurry. Besides, Anghelos will get this mess sorted soon, and we might need to turn back. I want to be close enough to shore to get papers from time to time. Or at least get the news on a mobile."

"What if your brother can't or won't sort things out? Will you run for the rest of your life?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed.

"You look tired," she said and walked over to him. "Your hair's growing back," she commented idly touching his skull with her fingertips.

She smiled at the feel of the stubs of hair sticking out of his skin. She passed her palm over it, amused by the prickly sensation.

"I believe he'll sort it out," she answered his lingering question. "If he doesn't... either he can't, and once I'm sure of that I'll have to stop running and try to get it sorted by myself. If he won't..." her voice trailed while her fingers slid across his features, running her thumb over the bejewelled eyebrow, and then the old and recent scars. "If he won't... I'm not sure I want to survive this. Anghelos is the pillar of my world. If he stops caring about me... I just don't know."

The man's arm snaked around her waist and pulled her close again. He was still sitting in his chair, and he pressed his head against her. She closed her eyes and put her own arms around his head, pressing him a little more into her breasts.

"We'll be fine," he echoed her words from earlier.

"Thank you," Eleni said, with another smile. "I know we're paying you, but what you do now for me, is priceless. That doesn’t mean that either Anghelos or myself would pay more than it's reasonable. I want you to be sure that once this is over, you'll have not only the rest of the money, but also our gratitude. In the long run, that's going to mean more, you'll see."

He nodded slowly, rubbing his head against Eleni's breasts as he did. She closed her eyes and held her breath trying to contain the instant burst of lust.

"Set the ship on auto pilot. I need some sleep," he said.

"Just let me know where you want us to arrive."

The man stood up, his arms remaining wrapped around Eleni. He held her close with one arm while he reached for the map with another.

"Here. But we should arrive after sunset. Easier to bribe our way inside the harbour."

Eleni turned around to fiddle with the ship's computer. The simple operation took her a lot longer than expected because she felt the constant pressure of the man's body against her ass. She wished she could gather up the courage to rub against him. Even in all the fear, she still wanted him. Maybe the fear acted like a catalyst for her lust. Whatever the mechanism, the concern for her immediate safety was no longer at panic level, and her arousal skyrocketed.

He was behind her, with his hands on her hips. He slid his hand down her still injured leg, and massaged it a little.

"I'm going to give you a good workout. You need to recover all mobility in this leg, and we don’t have anything else to do on board. After I sleep."

Her breath was hitched, and when he let go of her she let out a shuddering sigh. She missed the feel of his body against hers. It took a while for the meaning of his words to sink in.

"I don’t want to exercise," she said, following him out of the navigation area.

"There's a massage in it for you," he said, yawning.

Somehow the thought of his hands all over her body wasn't doing a good job of comforting her.

"I'll think about it," she said, diplomatically once they were back in their cabin.

The man sat down on the bed, removed his shoes and lied down. He patted the bed next to him, looking at her through half closed eyelids.

"Come 'ere," he said.

Eleni opened her mouth to tell him she had slept enough, but a yawn came out instead. She took off as much of her clothes as she felt comfortable, and snuggled in bed next to him.

She startled awake after what seemed only a few minutes. The blinding sun coming through the window let her know she was way off. She hid her face into his chest to avoid the light. It occurred to Eleni that she was cuddling against a man she met only two days earlier. She was growing comfortable having him so close. The thought sobered her up a little, and at the same time her stomach growled, so she decided to get out of bed to explore the boat.

"There's no food on board. We're better off trying to sleep more," he said in a quiet tone, without giving any other indication that he was awake.

She dropped all attempts of being stealthy and sat up on the edge of the bed. She missed the warmth and the feel of his body. This worried her.

"I want to look around. Any chance of running into something I shouldn't see?" she asked, without turning her head.

"Just don't kick open any doors," he said.

"Most amusing," she said in a cool and offended voice.

"Once I get my hands on you, kicking doors open might not be so impossible. Go wherever you want. It's safe here. I checked last night."

"When?" she asked, standing up.

"After we got on board. It's how the fight started."

Eleni was wondering if she should change out of her only comfortable t-shirt and into one of the tight tops or maybe she should hunt down some shirt one of the luckless sailors may have left behind. His mention of the fight reminded her of his injuries. She hurried to his side and sat next to him on the bed.

"How do you feel? Let me see those," she said reaching for his shirt.

He caught her hands while she was reaching toward the hem of his t-shirt. Eleni tried to free them without looking at him, but he held them tight until she met his eyes. All her worries about getting too used to having him close reached a new peak. His dark eyes kept her trapped more securely than the grip he had on her wrists.

"I'm fine," he said.

She was tempted to nod, ready to agree with anything he told her at that moment. She realized with some difficulty that he was trying to steer her off. His features looked handsome, even under the new injuries. Eleni wondered how she could ever think that he looked like a thug.

"David," she said, in a reproachful whisper, "you might be seriously hurt. Please let me see."

She sensed his reaction at the sound of his own name. She made an educated guess that not many people used it. The man was, after all, the Doberman. But he released her hands without any comment. Her fingers trembled a little bit when she started to raise his T-shirt. She was surprised to realize that she didn’t know what worried her the most, if she was going to find that his cuts were too severe for her to handle, or if the injuries would be minor and she'd have the opportunity to ogle at his chest with no panic.

With every inch of skin she uncovered, she grew more alarmed. The cuts seemed shallow, but the sight aroused her to the limits of her self control. She couldn't help herself. She trailed her fingers over his flesh, going over old scars and she followed the wavering line of dark hair that started below the waistband of his jeans, all the way up to his chest. She pretended to check for injuries through the hair. She held her breath feeling the hard muscles under his skin. She let it out in a sigh when her fingertips passed over his nipples. She licked her lips, and did her best to banish the idea of bending over to feel those hard nipples with her lips and tongue. At that moment, the man pushed her hands away and pulled his T-shirt down again.

"Satisfied?" he asked, sitting up.

His head was now at the same level as hers. The mere thought of another kiss made Eleni dizzy. It took her a moment to answer. She realized that he was asking if she was going to give up nagging him about his injuries.

"Yes," she said.

It was very, very far from the truth. As much as she fought against it, she had to admit that she would never be satisfied until she made love to him.

"Good," he said, his breath caressing her cheek and her neck.

Eleni closed her eyes, and made the effort to pull herself away.

"You should try to rest some more," she said, standing up. "I'll see if I can find something to eat after all."

"Be careful. Things aren't always what they seem," he said, lying back down.

She looked at him again, and nodded. He was so much more than the thug she first saw him to be, even after having read his file. Not that his file made any mention of his recent mission of stealing her research or the murder he had committed in her own house. She was going to make Anghelos pay for trying to keep this from her.

She closed the door behind her and tried not to think at the moment when David Obermann would be out of her life. They still had some time together. A part of her wished her brother would be less than efficient in solving their predicament.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: Guard Dog - chapter 5

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 22:55:28 GMT

Chapter 5

Eleni felt the bass thrum through her body. The noise level was unbearable. She temporarily forgot about the unusual clothes and the makeup so hastily applied in the parking lot outside the drugstore where they bought it, which was so heavy on the eyeliner that it felt like a mask. At least she was wearing the Doberman's coat. It was pretty much all that was holding her together.

She was doing her best bad girl impersonation, trying to keep up the pretence that she was bad enough for someone like him. She could see the way the people in the club instinctively recognized his status. The consummate alpha male. She noticed the involuntary deference in men's attitude, just as clearly as she could see the way women responded to him. The flirting, inviting, tempting body language was so loud it made her head spin even as much as the physical effects of the loud music on her sense of hearing.

He slung an arm lazily around her shoulders when he stopped by the bar. She was trying to get used to this manner of behaviour, this clear mark of possession. Contrary to what she had previously thought, being his woman now seemed to be fraught with danger, rather than a reason for peace of mind. She had always been an observer, when her brother played the part of the alpha male, and the woman on his arm the one who had to withstand the siege of all the others. She knew that some were unable to stand up to the tide of rivals.

Eleni looked around her, sizing up the competition. Younger. Taller. Thinner. Bigger breasts. Blondes. Better hair, teeth, skin. Sexier clothes. More assertive. Healthier. She could see her flaws magnified a hundred times in the dozens of women surrounding her. Instead of the panic attack she half expected, Eleni felt that inner spring tense to its extreme before suddenly snapping. She recognized it. The survival instinct that made her burrow through the fallen walls of her laboratory with half of her body crushed was triggered once again.

The inner change must have manifested itself physically because her pretence-lord and master gave her an odd look. His arm slid from her shoulders down around her waist. His hand rested loosely on her hip, still anchoring her to him, but no longer pulling her close.

She pretended to be cool and uninterested when he ordered two drinks. She was about to correct his assumption that she drank scotch, but she had to let go of her national pride and not order an ouzo since she was supposed to act like a Helen, not like an Eleni.

He surveyed the place idly while he drank. She knew he was wide-awake and ready to act if anything happened, but even she could not see any sign of the state of high alert. His gaze glided dispassionately over her as she took her glass, only to settle on a group of women who were watching him with a hungry intensity from a few yards away.

In normal circumstances, she would have shrugged off their interest, despite the rising bile she felt. In her normal life, she would have never even admitted that she felt this wild attraction, let alone admit to feeling jealous, worried, possessive. She had to keep in character though. She put the glass back on the counter, and slid her palm up along his arm, brushed his shoulder in passing, glad of the layer of cool leather that prevented her from touching his skin and breaking her concentration. It got a lot more difficult to maintain composure when he turned his attention to her. She held his gaze even when her fingertips brushed over the scars on his neck. She managed to keep her eyes open even when his mouth twitched a little as her thumb brushed over his lips, while she cupped his face.

The thought that it had passed over a year since the last time she kissed someone almost unbalanced her. Not to mention that the last man she kissed was one of her doctors who had a thing for vulnerable women, like wounded birds he could fix. The last thing the Doberman's woman had to be was vulnerable.

She slid her hand around at the back of his head, and pulled him down to her level. His arm tensed around her waist, and he played along, leaning toward her mouth, following the gentle pressure she applied. She had to get the message through before their lips met. She was aware that she could not predict what was going to happen after that.

"Mine," she said.

There it was. Her explanation, her justification, her pretext for obeying something she felt but could not afford to act upon. He must have understood what she meant, because Eleni caught one of those dark, cold flickers in his eyes before his gaze turned incandescent, and he swooped in. He took control of her tentative kiss. He was demanding, his mouth hungry, his tongue probing, searching, ravishing. Eleni trembled closing her eyes under this sensual siege, but even through the fog of intense desire, she could feel the reservation in his kiss.

Something was out of order. There was just a tiny impression of punishment under all the exquisite ferocity. The impression faded though, the sensations overpowered her and she stopped acting. She slid her arms around his neck, locked wrists at the back of his head and abandoned herself to the kiss.

He tasted of scotch and tobacco. The alcohol tasted sweet on his tongue and the reviled tobacco was somehow exciting in this mixture. She could soon feel the change in the way he was kissing her. The anger seemed to dissipate, but the level of passion remained. His arm started to feel like a steel vine coiled around her waist. Her head was spinning and she felt like she was floating.

When the kiss broke, Eleni felt lucky that he was holding her so tightly, otherwise she would've collapsed. Nothing to do with her imperfect body. This time she felt dizzied by the sensations. She wanted to fold into his chest, have his arms wrapped around her, and stay close to him for a long, long time. She couldn't afford it though. She had to forgo displaying her vulnerability as much as because of the situation they were in as for protecting herself from him. Eleni believed him to be a good man, but that wouldn't prevent him from breaking her heart if she allowed it.

"How long till your contact shows up?" she asked, brushing her lips against his ear making it look like she was whispering something naughty.

As it turned out, it was the wrong thing to say. She sensed the change in him as soon as she finished speaking. It was like the room temperature had suddenly dropped sub zero. He had to imagine that she had pretended all along. A part of her thought it was a good thing. If he believed her to be such a good actress he might not try to get close to her. She wanted him too much to afford to let him close. This part of her was in minority though. Most of Eleni was worried she had just lost any chance of getting thorough the layers of cool professionalism and previous bad experiences.

He grinned annoyingly before answering, and gave her bottom an outrageous squeeze, but she knew better than to take it at face value.

"Not long," he said, "but there's time for a quickie," he added.

Eleni couldn’t help rolling her eyes. He slapped her ass almost painfully for this slip out of character. The slap had an immediate effect. She snarled at him, and he smiled lazily, immensely pleased with himself.

"Yours," he said, raising her glass and drinking her scotch.

She felt a cold shiver run through her at the word. He made the word sound bad. Made it sound like he belonged to her, not as her lover, but as her slave. Her guard dog. She had to find out what her brother had on him. This was not the right place or time, but she was determined to ask him.

"Nikos is expecting you," the barman addressed Mr. Green, who nodded, finished the drink he had ordered for her, and stood up.

He slung his arm around her shoulders in the already customary possessive manner. They walked together in a room at the back of the club. The man waiting for them there was higher up on the food chain than Stelios, but Eleni still categorized him as someone of little importance.

"You have some nerve showing up here," Nikos said.

Mr. Green threw himself on a chair and pulled her into his lap, securing her position by holding an arm around her back and the other across her stomach. She thought that he accidentally touched her breasts when he lighted a cigarette, but he kept brushing over them whenever he took it out of his mouth to exhale the smoke. Eleni's attempts to act nonchalant were failing miserably as her nipples hardened at the constant rubbing and poked through the tight top she was wearing. She had the satisfaction to feel him shift position under her, so that she'd sit a little lower, on his legs, instead that over his groin.

"If you wanted me dead, I'd be dead by now," Mr. Green replied. "I need your services," he went on, as if whatever previous problem they had was settled.

Nikos laughed, appearing genuinely amused by Mr. Green's attitude.

"So, what do you want?" Nikos asked, still chuckling.

"I want one of your cloaked boats," he answered.

"That can be arranged. I'll have to see when one becomes available."

"Tonight," Mr. Green said coolly. "Money's not an issue," he said.

He placed his lit cigarette on her lips in order to free his hand to reach in his pants pocket. Eleni tried to focus on the unpleasantness of the smoke filling her mouth, rather than what happened under her ass. By the time he removed his hand, she was ready to jump out of her skin. When he threw the platinum card in front of Nikos on the desk, his breath scorched her exposed neck. Her second reaction wasn't to wonder if the card could be traced back to Anghelos. Her first reaction was to hope that he was going to start nuzzling on her neck. Much to her disappointment, he did not.

"Do you need a captain who can perform a legally binding marriage?" Nikos asked grinning, beginning to dial a number.

Mr. Green took the hint, and grinned his own annoying grin. He gripped her chin between thumb and forefinger, while the other hand slid up her back until he tangled his fingers in her hair. He pulled her down to his mouth. Her eyelids fluttered closed, fearing the intensity of the kiss. She didn't get to fall apart because he ended the kiss didn't last long.

Apparently it lasted long enough for the club owner to make his call.

"You have your boat," Nikos said, writing something on a piece of paper and handing it over his desk. "Someone will wait for you at the docks. Show them this note."

Eleni started to get up, but he held her tight and reached for the paper. It felt like a nice, tight hug. She pressed her lips on his temple for a second before they both stood up.

"Bike's in your parking lot. I'll get it the next I'm here," he said, shaking hands with Nikos, who nodded.

~~~~~~~~

The long walk toward the docks helped clear Eleni's mind. She realized had a lot of questions. Some were for her brother, but Anghelos was unfortunately out of reach.

"Why would Nikos want you dead?" she asked suddenly.

"Not now," he answered without looking at her.

"Yes, now! I'm tired of not knowing what's going on."

She looked at him and at the bleak world around them. They were in a rough neighbourhood. She should really try to keep quiet until they were somewhere safer. His silence irritated her enough to throw caution to the wind.

"Why would you plan to bring me here? To a place where you yourself are in danger of being killed? What the hell were you thinking?"

He stopped abruptly, and pushed her into a wall. The feel of his body pressing into her at interesting angles inflamed her anger, especially since she suspected he did it to distract her more than to keep the appearance that they were a horny couple.

"Didn't plan to bring you here. When you called your brother and we had to run, the whole plan got fucked up," he accompanied the words with a growl. "My mobile got soaked, lost most of the money, didn't meet my contact. I had to improvise."

Eleni heard the frustration and the anger about things getting out of his control, but couldn't help herself to reply.

You didn't lose all your money, did you? You still had the platinum card my brother gave you," she said triumphantly.

"That was mine."

He took a step back, panting just a little. Eleni wondered what else he still refrained from telling her.

"What does my brother have on you?" she asked, endeavouring to sound a lot less aggressive than before.

"I'll tell you on the boat," he said in a tone that left no room for arguing.

~~~~~~~~

They got on the boat without any trouble, despite Eleni's panic reaction at the sight of the men guarding the docks. When she caught a glimpse of a few members of the crew, the terror reached new levels inside her. She hoped she kept a cool front, but Mr. Green probably saw through her pretence. He never said anything, no useless words of comfort. He tried to reassure her through certain touches, small enough not to be noticed by onlookers, yet powerful enough to soothe her anxiety. Small gestures like placing his hand at the small of her back to guide her to their cabin, like squeezing her shoulder gently when he had his arm around her in the ostensive attitude of ownership.

When they were alone in the cabin, and the boat began to glide away on the sea, Eleni tried to unwind. She watched him sprawled on the only bed in the room with his eyes closed. He seemed so very tired that she almost gave up on her intention to interrogate him. Almost. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide the sight of her nipples, hardened by the chill in the night air and from the constant arousal caused by his presence.

"Tell me," she demanded.

He sat up slowly. He looked in her general direction, but for the first time since they met, he seemed to avoid looking her in the eye.

"I was hired to break into your laboratories and steal the prototype of the guiding system you're working on," he said.

"WHAT?!" she exclaimed.

Eleni looked panic stricken at the bolted door of the cabin. She was in the middle of the sea with a man hired by her competitors to break into her fortress. The thought that Anghelos had send him to her finally made its way through the thick veil of cold dread.

"So how come my brother hired you to protect me?" she asked, sitting down hard on the chair that was farthest from the bed.

"He has proof that I killed a man."

It took all the trust Eleni had in her brother not to run out the door screaming. How was she supposed to react to such a statement? She wasn't surprised to find out that the Doberman had taken a human life. She could believe that her brother would renounce his moral principles if doing so served a more important interest. All that taken into account, it was still unsettling to know how little importance a murder had for the two most important men in her life.

"Why did you kill him?" she asked, despite dreading his answer.

The man gave her a brief look. She wished his gaze would linger. She needed to read in his eyes if he lied to her.

"He wanted to kill you in order to get the prototype," he said, and closed his eyes before going on. "We were in the hallway next to your number seven lab. You weren't supposed to be working in there that day, but there you were. My partner was a step in front of me and he raised his gun toward you. I snapped his neck before he even got to aim. I took his body with me and left. By the time I was at the exit through the caves, your brother was waiting for me. Everything is recorded by your security system."

"You were... outside the lab?" she uttered in a horrified whisper. "You mean you were inside my house?"

The man nodded, causing Eleni's world to shake. This had happened inside her sanctuary!

"How did you get in? There are codes and sensors everywhere," she said, probing the full depth of the horror.

"We had the codes. I deactivated the sensors."

She took in a deep breath, but he interrupted her.

"Don't ask. I don't know who hired me. I don't know how they knew the codes and the layout of the labs."

She was trying to accept that her home had not been as safe as she had believed it to be. Who would know so much about her house? Not even her brother knew all the codes.

"Why didn't you let your partner kill me?" she asked.

He looked up, surprised. They held each other's gaze for a while.

"I couldn't. You were so innocent," he said, still looking at her.

Eleni smiled. In Lab no. 7 was the prototype of the guiding system for a missile that would target human habitations. Just because she enjoyed the challenge of building them did not mean that she was unaware of their ultimate purpose. The Nikodemus family had been merchants of death. She and Anghelos were the third generation of weapons manufacturers.

"After Anghelos finds out who's behind this and I'm safe, I'll make sure he doesn't do anything against you," she said.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

"You broke into our house. Invaded his territory. He might not forgive you just because you take care of me now," she explained. "Men in my family tend to be unreasonable when it comes to such trespassing."

She walked over to the bed, and lied down next to him.

"Is it going to be a long trip?" she asked, closing her eyes to rest.

"A few days," he answered.

She felt his body tense next to her, and wondered how she could be so relaxed. Maybe it was the motion of the ship on the waves, maybe the knowledge that even her safest haven had been only an illusion, maybe she was beginning to associate being next to him with being safe, whatever the reason, Eleni fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: Guard Dog - chapter 4

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 21:49:22 GMT

Chapter 4

He slung an arm around her shoulders before knocking on the door. She felt his muscles moving under his skin when he pulled her closer.

"You’re my woman here," he said as the only stage directions.

Eleni swallowed the outraged "what?" understanding that it would be easier for him to protect her if she walked in with that status. Someone would have to be seriously unbalanced to try anything with the Doberman's woman. His bitch, she amended the label. She hoped that her brother was right to call David Obermann "Mr. Green" because he would keep her safe, and at the same time she hoped that her bodyguard deserved to be called the Doberman by everyone who knew him. In a place like this, the reputation could save them a lot of trouble.

She tried to compose the sort of expression she imagined his woman would have. She only modified a little the sort of cold, superior indifference she felt comfortable painting on her features. The only difficulty was pretending she was used to his possessive attitude. Now if she could only stop blushing like a damn virgin!

The man who opened the door grinned welcoming. Stelios, as Mr. Green called him, did not look surprised to see them, causing Eleni to wonder how many eyes had witnessed their arrival in this ghetto. She had seen places like this only in the movies. The weapons dealers she used to work with probably catered to neighbourhoods like this, but they did not live in them. Stelios did not seem to be very high up in the food chain that had her and Anghelos at the top.

Mr. Green introduced her casually as Helen, and she got the hint to act as Anglo-Saxon as she could. She wondered if he thought about Helen of Troy when he chose this version of her name. For as long as she could remember, because of her family's business, Eleni's life had been connected to wars. None of them inspired anything like the Iliad, and she was most certainly not the cause or even the pretext of any of them. Until now.

She was drawn back to the present when she heard Mr. Green ask Stelios for a room. The man's leer and his knowing look caused Eleni's stomach to turn despite the fact that part of her was yearning for the very thing he was imagining. He led them into another room and winked before closing the door.

"Get dressed," her bodyguard said.

He threw himself onto the bed, crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. She looked at him amazed, swallowing another unnecessary "what". He expected her to take off the coat and put on the new clothes with him in the room? Asking him not to peek was a little too childish for her taste. Not to mention it was a sign of weakness. She gritted her teeth, turned her back to the bed, and pulled a skirt on without taking off the coat. They had omitted to buy any underwear she realized.

She threw a quick glance behind before unbuttoning the coat. She huffed as she struggled to undo the lower buttons. The top ones flew open when she needed them to stay fastened, but the bottom ones were stubborn as hell. She heard him move and turned her head again. He had shifted position on the bed. He was no longer lying on his back, but resting on one side. Still not looking at her. What a perfect gentleman he was!

She took a pause after she undid the last button, before letting the long, heavy coat fall dramatically to the floor. She kept her back to him, but watched over her shoulder as she did this. There was an almost imperceptible startle at the sound. She was torn between the urge to test just how much she was affecting him and her cautious attitude of letting sleeping dogs lie.

"Do I really look like one of the women you bring here?" she asked after she managed to pull a tight top on.

"No," he answered, keeping his eyes closed.

She walked over to his side of the bed.

"Is this okay?"

Eleni bit her tongue when she heard herself asking that. She tried to justify needing his opinion as part of keeping in the character he assigned her. The shiver that went through her when he opened his eyes and looked her up and down slowly blew to smithereens that flimsy excuse. She made sure she did not meet his eyes when his gaze reached all the way up to her face.

"It's fine."

"Let’s go back then," she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"If we leave now, it will take more to keep the appearance that you're mine," he said calmly, not making a move to get out of bed.

She paused to think about it, letting go of her injured pride. He had a point. It was very likely that she'd blow her cover with some reaction if he touched her, or kissed her, or whatever he might think appropriate to do to his woman in public. She bent over to pick up the snakeskin coat she had shed earlier.

"If we have to make it look like we’re doing something in here, we should make more noise," she said, straightening up.

Her leg chose that moment to give up on her. She dropped painfully on her knees, unable to find anything to hang on to in time. He was next to her before she let out the yelp of pain. He had one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, pulling her gently to his chest.

"More noise, huh?" he asked softly.

His lips were moving against her temple, his breath was caressing her face, and if it weren't for her libido kicking and screaming inside the confines of her education, she would have easily thought she was in her brother's arms. Safe.

"Maybe we could jump up and down on the bed or something," she whispered.

He ruffled her hair smiling. It wasn't the same insufferable grin. Or maybe it was, but she saw more behind it.

"We're going to leave in the morning," he said, helping her up.

She sat on the edge of the bed, and he ran his fingers through her hair distractedly. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets when he realized he was doing it. He took a few steps back, gathering his coat off the floor.

"We'll go to a club tonight. I know someone who will get us out of the country," he told her. "Those clothes are going to be trouble," he added.

"You chose them!" she exclaimed, looking up surprised.

She caught another fleeting expression on his face before he grinned lewdly at her. Behind the façade, he was worried. She had to hope he was worried that her all too interesting outfit was going to bring trouble, rather than think that he wasn't entirely sure that he was able to get her out of the country safely.

"Let's see what we can do about the noise," he said, dropping back into bed with the same lewd grin on his face.

"What, no foreplay?" she said, letting herself fall back into bed as hard as she could.

The bedsprings were creaking under the weight of their bodies. Eleni led her mind away from imagining the primitive rhythm their bodies would create if they made love.

"Would you need it?" he asked.

"Hours and hours," she said with her best pretence of nonchalance.

"That right?" he drawled, getting on his knees and moving toward her, causing the bed to creak loudly and Eleni to shiver intensely.

"What are you doing?"

"Making noise," he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You don’t need to be so close to make noise, you know," she said, adding as much ice as she could in her tone.

He was looming over her, his knees touching the outside of her thigh and ignoring her attempts to fend off his hands, he reached down toward her body. He placed his hands on her hip in an almost clinical fashion. Eleni tried to keep her eyes open as he examined her like a physician. His fingers were moving along, pressing on bone and muscle, looking for signs of weakness and pain.

"How bad was it?" he asked.

Eleni took advantage of the question to close her eyes. Memories playing behind her eyelids did little to help her deal with the thrill of his touches. She had to fight to stop her hips from lifting off the bed, from arching under his hands, from inviting him further.

"Bad. I couldn't use my legs for a while. Then it hurt so much I was beginning to miss the paralysis."

She remembered the doctors, not the ER ones so much, but her neurosurgeon. And then there were the physical therapists. All of them so encouraging, so happy that she would walk again. She expected the same sort of reaction from him.

"Yeah," he said.

She looked at him, surprised. He sounded like he understood what she meant. She could see a few faint scars on his upper arms, and on one side of his neck, but he may well have deeper ones under his clothes. She closed her eyes again. Thinking about what he might look like naked was not a good idea.

"You didn't buy any clothes for yourself," she whispered, giving away the path of her thoughts.

His hands were at the hem of her skirt in their thorough and probably useless examination. He stopped when he reached her flesh with his fingertips. The man fell back on his side of the bed.

"We should sleep now. We'll be up all night," he said.

She envied his calm. She did not have so much control over her body or her emotions to go to sleep in the middle of the afternoon just because it was the sensible thing to do. She was going to give it her best try. That involved changing out of those tight, uncomfortable clothes. The cotton T-shirt with the skull and the obscene slogan was somewhere in the bags. It was pretty far from her Garfield pajamas but it would have to do. She got out of bed and started to pull the top over her head, certain that he was going to close his eyes. And maybe a little hopeful that he would sneak a peek.

"What are you doing?" he asked, with a slight note of panic in his voice.

"I can't sleep in this thing. Close your eyes, will you?" she said, looking over her shoulder, in a spirited attempt to beat her personal best in nonchalance.

He rolled onto his side so he'd be with his back to her.

"You could warn a bloke," he muttered.

The reply that it was nothing he hadn't seen before made her blush. Why was still coy when this man saw her naked when he pulled her out of the shower, and when he helped her out of the pool? She realized that she was sincerely imagining that the man had been so focused on escaping that he hadn't noticed. Or that he might have forgotten the glimpses he caught of her body. She didn't waste time looking for the T-shirt and changing into it. The loose garment made her feel a little better. She didn’t have anything to replace the leather skirt, so she kept it on.

His breathing soon became even, but Eleni couldn’t help wondering if he was really asleep. She tried to follow his example without success. After a few moments of forced calm, she started to twist and turn in search of a comfortable position. At some point, the man turned, ostensibly in his sleep and flung an arm around her waist, pinning her to the bed. Eleni looked at him through narrowed eyes, with the obstinate suspicion that he was awake. She did not remove his arm though. She realized that she would never disturb his rest on the basis of a suspicion, no matter how strong.

Sleep snuck up on her even when she tried restlessly to consider the rival companies or the military organizations that would have an interest to bring down Nikodemus Industries by getting rid of its star researcher. She was also part owner of the company, but she was not involved in the administrative decisions, preferring to leave that to her brother. For the first time since they took over the company, she wished she paid attention to anything other than research. She fell asleep trying to remember some of the competitors that Anghelos had told her about over the years.

When she woke up the room was almost dark. His arm was no longer around her waist, but his leather coat was draped over her. She snuggled into it looking around the room muzzily.

"I'm here," his voice came out of the shadows.

Eleni smiled, and stretched lazily. When her eyes grew accustomed to the dim, she noticed that he had changed his clothes. Not a big difference in style, though. Another pair of tight leather jeans and a leather jacket. She swung her legs out of bed yawning.

"Very nice," she said, pointing at his jacket.

"We have to go. Keep the coat," he said, looking down at her bare legs, his gaze travelling all the way up to her thighs, which were partially uncovered by the skirt that rode a little too high up.

She jumped to her feet, straightened her skirt and put on the long coat. She wondered if he renounced his coat because of the way she had worn it. Whatever his reason, she was glad to have it. Oddly enough, she was beginning to feel invincible inside it. The Doberman's cape, she smiled at the thought.

"Thank you," she said, bending over to put on her boots.

There was a growl of acquiescence from him, but nothing else. The man did not seem inclined to use words unless he had to. She wondered how it would be like to have a screaming argument with him. More accurately, she wondered if he would ever allow his temper to boil over the boundaries of his self-control.

"What exactly is your plan for tonight?" she asked after she finished zipping up the boots.

"The guy who owns the club can get things in and out of countries unofficially," he said.

Eleni raised an eyebrow looking at him. Was he talking about a drug dealer? He handed her another one of the tops he had chosen for her. Another tight, revealing top. Another suspicion came to mind. Was she going to leave the country through a network of human trafficking? Was she going to have to pretend she was a sex slave? She shuddered when she took the garment from his hands, and it became just a little worse when he slid the coat off her shoulders. He was so close, his attention so intensely focused on her, that she was unable to ask any of the questions swirling around in her head. Again, she had the feeling that he was about to kiss her. Again, she felt that tension between them, pulling them closer.

"Turn around," she whispered, gathering her own tattered restraint.

When he turned his back to her, Eleni closed her eyes, trying to get herself together. She changed out of the loose and comfortable T-shirt and into the tight, sexy top. She put the coat back on before he had a chance to turn to face her again. Even so, she startled when he looked at her. He seemed to be able to see through her clothes, and the fact that he had seen her naked made her feel constantly vulnerable.

"It's going to get better. I want to make sure no one can trace our path."

He must have thought that the tension in her body was caused by the threat. She was relieved to let him think that, even if his body language was intimate while he was talking shop. Eleni was pretty sure that her own body was advertising its needs in big, flashing neon letters. Living as if she had taken a vow of celibacy had been easy with no one like the Doberman around to tempt her. The self-imposed dry spell made her all the more receptive to the demands of her hormones.

"Okay. Besides, I'm sure my brother will deal with this very soon," she said.

She noticed a change in his stance as she said this, but she couldn’t be sure of how to interpret it. The room was too dark to read his features. Should she dare to hope that he'd be selfish enough to want the situation to last longer just so they can be together? No... He was better than that. He might not seem so at first sight, but he was a good man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: Guard Dog - chapter 3

Sun, 15 Apr 2007 09:17:08 GMT

Chapter 3

In a matter of minutes she was straddling the bike again, pressed against the man's back while he made sure that her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist before taking off. The long coat hid her nakedness from the world, but her most sensitive flesh was rubbing against his leather pants. They were both soaking wet from their fall in the hotel's pool, but she imagined that the heat she felt from being so close to him made steam rise from their bodies.

This time, the ride was the cause of arousal to such an extent that Eleni forgot to fear for her life. She could feel how her the honey coming out of her smeared the still wet leather. Her breasts were crushed against his back, and her nipples were puckering painfully as they rubbed against the inside of his coat.

"Stop the damn bike!" she screamed to cover the roaring of the engine when the sensual stimulation was on the brink of overwhelming her.

"Soon," he answered.

Eleni kept her eyes closed and concentrated as best she could on an abstract problem she left unsolved at the lab, trying to ignore the physical sensations that were about to undo her. Despite her efforts, she was close to climax when he stopped the bike.

"There was a mobile on your night stand," he said, without turning his head.

"Mine. I called my brother last night," she told him as defiantly as she could manage in her present state

"Not a smart move."

His voice seemed calm. Eleni could not sense any trace of anger or reproach in it but that did not mean that he wasn't angry. She braced herself for the eventual explosion. She tried to sound conciliatory. Especially when he was only voicing things she believed to be true.

"No. If my cards could be traced, the phones could, too."

"Are you sure it's not your brother selling you out?" he asked, turning around to watch her.

She didn't get annoyed that he asked that. She almost expected someone like him to see betrayal everywhere.

"I'm sure."

"You shouldn’t call him again anyway."

She nodded, knowing that he was right, and at the same time well aware of how difficult it was going to be to cut herself off from the only person that had always been present in her life. She couldn’t begin to explain to this stranger what her brother meant to her.

"We'll have to leave the country. I have better resources back home. You'll be safe there."

"Okay," she said.

"You trust me," he said, in a tone that was half inquiring, half amazed.

"Yes."

She was wondering what place he could still call home after the things that had been going on in his life. She was also wondering what he understood by safe. And yet, she did trust him. It was still for the most part a reflection of her trust in Anghelos, but she could feel that she was starting to trust him for himself. Despite the sexual tension this man brought into her life, she sensed that he would protect her to the best of his abilities.

Reading people had been a curse for most of her life, because she was able to the ugliness behind the façade more often than she wished. It was happening in reverse with Mr. Green. The first impression about his thuggish nature was constantly fading. She could see the force and the control. She could see a man who would do his job to the best of his abilities, even if his hand had been forced to accept it.

He turned around in his seat and refastened her arms around his waist, in the customary preparation for taking off. However, he did not switch on the engine. His hand slid under the long leather coat and onto her bare leg.

"Your leg okay?" he asked at the same time as his fingers touched her skin.

Eleni almost jumped out of her seat at the sensation. She clutched at his wet T-shirt moaning. He couldn’t have missed the whimper, but he continued massaging her leg apparently unfazed.

"Don't! Please, stop" she begged.

"We have to work on that," he said nonchalantly, rubbing her leg more roughly than before.

"Work... on... what?" she asked, trying to conceal the panting.

"Your mobility."

He cut any chance for comments from her by starting the bike. Eleni pressed her face into his back, trying to get a handle on her emotions. She wanted this man like no other before. She had to acknowledge it, at least to herself, even if only to know that she should abstain from acting on it.

They stopped in front of a shop after another uncomfortably arousing ride. She realized that they were no longer a mismatched couple, now that she was wearing his snakeskin coat with nothing underneath, while he was wearing his sleeveless t-shirt. Eleni tried to ignore the unusual reaction of lust at the sight of his tattoos and his prominent biceps. She had never liked this type of man but she seemed irresistibly fascinated by this man in particular, finding attractive the very things that would normally repel her.

The first thing they bought was a pair of boots. The shop assistant didn't seem shocked when Mr. Green took some moist bank notes out of his wallet, and then paid no attention to them as they started to look for clothes. Eleni had to applaud his choice of shop. They were making less of a spectacle of themselves in here. They were next door to a tattoo parlour and from what she could tell, they were among the more conventionally dressed people that had ever walked in that shop.

If the high-heeled boots were more or less acceptable to her, when it came to the rest of her attire, the discussion was more heated. Eleni had her arms wrapped around herself, trying to keep the leather coat from flying open, exposing her to the world in general, and to the penetrating gaze of her bodyguard in particular.

"Fod God's sake, I can’t wear that! Or that!" she exclaimed when he picked up dresses, tops and skirts, all leathery and all looking skintight.

"It's all they have in your size," he replied.

"What about that one?" she asked pointing to a long cotton t-shirt.

She yelped, not because the t-shirt she indicated had a skull and an obscene slogan on the front, but because the coat opened wide at her gesture uncovering her breasts for a moment. She felt his eyes on her skin for the split second before she closed the gap. She blushed, feeling not just her face, but also her chest catching fire.

"Looks good," he said.

His voice sounded just a shade thicker, and the way he just added the T-shirt to the pile of clothes made her think that the glimpse of her breasts or just the reminder that she was naked under all that leather affected him. He was heading for the shop assistant without any other comments. Eleni couldn’t help trying to test if she read him right.

"Don't you want me to try them on?" she asked, walking behind him.

He stopped so suddenly that she cannoned into him. When he turned around abruptly, his face was only inches from hers. His lips hovered over hers while their eyes locked for a long, tense moment. If he leaned over, Eleni was ready to give in to her more basic instincts. It was a clear sign that her life was upside down if she would allow her lust cloud her intellect.

She caught the fleeting expression of pain on his features. So, control came at some cost. Even to the Doberman. Costly or not, he did manage to keep control. He turned back toward the registry and took her hand. His grip was tighter than it was necessary, but not so much as to cause pain or to be noticed by anyone who might happen to watch them.

"Later," he said, looking from her to the bags of clothes.

That one word made her head spin. She never asked anyone's opinion about the clothes she was buying. Never spent agonizing hours deciding what to wear. Never got excited about new clothes or shoes. And with one word, this man made her dread and at the same time look forward to putting on a private fashion show.

She was still lost in that image when she realized that they were back in the parking lot

"Hey, I need to put some of those on!" she exclaimed, watching him mount the bike.

"We're close to the place where we're going to spend the night. You can change there," he said, looking in her eyes.

That look stopped the irrational need to stamp her foot. She was still in danger. Walking around naked and in a constant state of arousal had pushed that out of her mind. Besides, now she could enjoy the dazzling sensuality of the ride with a clear conscience. She climbed behind him obediently, and made sure that her fingernails reached all the way to his flesh when the intensity of the arousal reached unbearable peaks.

When they stopped again she had trouble getting off the bike, but the pain in her leg was not the main reason why that was so. Her skin was burning and her eyes must have sparkled like the damn aurora borealis. She tried to breathe normally and disguise the shaking of her body, or at least make it seem that as caused by the pain. He helped her stand, apparently not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

"What is this place?" she asked, looking around, desperate to distract his attention from her condition, and at the same time to find something to help her recover her cool.

"Friends," he said.

Eleni rolled her eyes. The man was laconic to an extent that shocked her. She was born in Sparta and after she blew up the laboratories had moved them to Areopolis out of symbolism. She was serving the God of War in her way, but she never got into the habit of using the typically laconic economy of words.

"I sure wouldn’t want to think you brought me to live with your enemies," she said absent-mindedly

He shot her a glance that said she'd be better off to have enemies living in such a place, than the ones she had. Despite herself, she scrolled through the list of rival companies and secret agencies that she had come across over the years. Her inner temperature dropped instantly.

"You'll be safe here," he said.

He used that horse whisperer tone again. She felt it like a soothing caress over her fears. So close to the way she felt in her brother's arms. Safe...

"For a while," she said.

He handed her the bags of clothes, but held on to them when she tried to take them, so she had to look up at him.

"Trust me," he said.

Eleni swallowed a knot, and nodded. She did. Even when they entered the sort of neighbourhood that looked scary in broad daylight. She knew that she would still trust him when the night fell and the place would be more dangerous than anywhere she had ever been.

She walked tall next to him, ignoring the pain. Apparently all the strain of the recent activity had already improved her mobility. That did not mean she would refuse his offer to improve it further. The ripple of expectation that went through her body at the thought worried her. If he was just pretending in order to keep her compliant and her mind off the danger on her trail, she was in for an unpleasant awakening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: Guard Dog - chapter 2

Sat, 07 Apr 2007 16:53:07 GMT

Chapter 2

He pulled over in the parking lot of the town's main shopping centre. They were close to an ATM, which was reassuring. Eleni accepted his help in getting off the bike. She had stiffened considerably even in this short ride, which only went to prove that her most recently fired physical therapist was right. She should have kept exercising. Too late now

"Get money. You need other clothes."

She followed his gaze toward the shop's windows, and nodded. She loved buying her clothes from old-fashioned family owned stores or, on rare occasions, in haute couture boutiques, but it made sense to buy things that looked common enough to blend in the crowd. Some large chains of clothing stores had made their way into the fairly idyllic Greek town.

They walked together in the first shop. Eleni caught a glimpse of their image in the glass doors. They were a good stretch away from blending into the background. It was hard to imagine a couple like them being invisible, or even ordinary. She assumed that he intended to take her away from the small town she called home for the past few years. She had to accept that being safe was not the same as feeling safe. She held on tight to the unbounded trust she had in her brother. If Anghelos was sure that "Mr. Green" was the best solution, then it was so.

She ambled along the aisles, stopping next to clothes that were more or less her usual style. She was rifling through some jackets when her bodyguard put his hand over hers. The young woman froze at the touch. Just because only minutes ago she had been holding on for dear life to him didn’t make the contact less of a thrill.

"Something else," he said.

"Excuse me?" she whispered.

He motioned her toward another aisle. She followed in stunned silence. Obedience never came easily to Eleni Nickodemus, but for some reason she found herself doing everything this stranger was telling her.

He was picking clothes off the shelves and coat hangers so fast that Eleni was too shocked to find the words to protest his choice. All the things that were piling up on his arm were too small, too revealing, and definitely not designed to make the wearer inconspicuous.

"Those things don’t fit me," she said eventually.

He looked at her amused. His gaze travelled over her body again, making her shiver and grow hot at the same time. She had scanned her body for scientific purposes, as well as for medical reasons, but the way this man seemed to see through her clothes flustered her.

"Try them on," he suggested.

Eleni swallowed a knot. His tone was just as insinuating as his look. It made her feel naked. The thought that she had to take off her clothes having nothing but the changing room's flimsy door between her and this man was making her nervous.

"It's not what I meant," she said.

His grin widened. Eleni blushed hotly, cursing herself for this unexpected reaction. She had never met a man like him, and if she didn't get a handle on him soon, things were going to be very difficult for her.

"Come on," he drawled.

He handed her the armful of clothes, placing an arm behind her, coaxing her gently toward the changing room.

"Will you please tell me what you’re planning to do? Where are we going?" she asked, trying to buy time to think what to do about the clothes.

He stopped in front of the dressing room, half pressing her into the door. His breath burned her skin. She felt it hot, smelled again the scotch and tobacco. She was already tense from the death threat, and the way this man looked at her and acted around her was making her even edgier. She wondered if it was part of his strategy, employing this intimate, flirty attitude to take her mind off the real danger.

"Try them on," he repeated, in a low, persuasive tone.

The refusal blossomed on her lips, but she was oddly unable to utter it. She slid away from him and stepped in the dressing room. She leaned against the closed door throwing the clothes onto the chair. Her head was spinning even with her eyes tightly shut. Maybe it would be better to concentrate on this man, on his attitude, his presence and what it was doing to her, rather than think about the long list of organizations that would have an interest to kill or kidnap her.

She looked down at the clothes the man had picked for her. She raised an eyebrow as she put them one by one in front of her, deciding with alacrity and a fair bit of anxiety that they would all fit. They were far from her style or taste, but he had gotten her measurements almost perfectly. Eleni refused to worry about it when she left the changing room.

"They'll do," she said, pushing the clothes back in his arms.

She walked to the register without looking back confident that he would follow. She smiled casually to the checkout girl while she paid, and she tried to keep her smile neutral when she caught a glimpse of her leather wrapped bodyguard laden with bags of women's clothes. Maybe she could handle him after all.

"You'll have to change into them," he said when they reached his bike.

"Find a phone booth. I'll pull a Clark Kent," she answered.

Eleni accepted his hand to climb behind him. She tried to be strong, but when the pain shot through her, she squeezed his hand hard. She waited for the soothing touch, and she wasn't disappointed. His hand rubbed her outer thigh bringing some relief once again, except this time it was accompanied by a far stronger wave of arousal than the first time he did it.

"You can use the ladies' room at the restaurant. We have to eat," he said.

The engine roared over Eleni's muttered protest. She wasn't hungry, but, once again, she could see the sense in his proposal.

They stopped at a biker bar that Eleni would have never considered as a proper venue for lunch. She had to hope he had good reason to choose the place. He handed her two of the bags as soon as she got off the bike.

"Go straight to the ladies' room, change into the new clothes and put the old ones in here," he said.

Eleni was getting fed up with him ordering her around. She didn't have any plan of her own, the situation being wholly unexpected, but that hardly mattered. By birth and by habit, Eleni Nikodemus was always in charge of her life. She may had let her brother take charge of the company once their parents retired, but that was as far as she went. Trusting Anghelos was not useful in the face of the constant commanding attitude.

"Or what?" she asked.

"What?"

"You keep barking orders at me, you don’t answer my questions, I don’t know where I am or where you're taking me. I don’t like this."

The annoying smug grin made another appearance

"You hate the clothes that much?"

"This isn't about the bloody clothes!" Eleni almost yelled at him.

"I know," he said in a pacifying tone. "We need to cover our tracks until we get lost. It will get easier."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but he must have been a horse whisperer in another life, because his tone manage to instil her the much needed calm.

"I do hate the clothes," she mumbled going toward the bathroom.

When she came back, she saw that the food was already at the table. The smell of hot rumaki was very appealing, causing her to forget temporarily about the studded pants and the tight top.

"Did my brother give you a file on me?" she asked between mouthfuls of what just happened to be her favourite food.

The man shrugged.

"He may have mentioned one or two things," he said.

"How much are we paying you?" she asked.

The grin was back on his face, but no longer so smug. It said "you're paying me a shit load of money", but at the same time, she could see something dark flicker under the arrogance. She had been bordering on naïve to think that Anghelos would insure this man's loyalty only with money. All of a sudden, the food didn't taste as good. Eleni took a long sip of water and looked pensively out the window. Her brother was the careful type, just like her. He would employ both the carrot and the stick, not only one or the other. Something very bad was going to happen to Mr. Green if anything at all would happen to her.

"Are you feeling sorry for me now?" he asked when she looked at him.

"Of course not," she lied.

The low rumbling sound rising from his throat made her realize she hadn’t fooled him. She knew it was unreasonable to feel much of anything for him, but pity was not something this man was likely to inspire in anyone. For someone who shied away from human contact, Eleni had an uncanny accuracy in reading people.

"Your brother is paying me a lot for this. Once you’re safe I can retire."

"We're paying you," she said automatically.

The words made him smile again. More of his arrogance seemed to have melted now, but not in darkness. She tried to give a name to the new nuance. Warmth and... could it be envy?

"Are you twins?" he asked.

She heard the nuance in his voice. It was envy of a sort. The file that was still on her desk detailed the lonely life of David Obermann, who had entered her life under the code name "Mr. Green". She could understand why most people envied the strong bond between her and Anghelos, but for an outcast like David, it might be close to painful.

"No. Just very devoted to each other," she said.

He merely nodded. After that, they finished their meal in silence, and Eleni found it amusing that it reminded her of the formal family dinners they used to have whenever she came back during the holidays. Whether she came from the Swiss boarding school, or during her years in Cambridge, the atmosphere was the same. She couldn't imagine a more different environment from the sparkling white marble of the Nikodemus summer dining room than this dingy bar.

She thought about her family during the long ride, aware that she was holding on to a man who would protect her for money and fear, but who had no concept of loyalty. She thought about his life, as she understood it from the scraps of information that made up the string of robberies he had been arrested for or suspected of but never convicted for. None of the accusations had stuck, but there was enough material to get a picture of his past. She thought about the friends who had tried to sell him out or screw him over. She thought about her brother, and how nothing would ever shake her trust in him.

"Where are we?" she asked sleepily when the bike stopped again hours later.

"Can you walk?" he asked, disregarding her question.

Eleni was too tired and too sore to take offence. She tried to stand up, but her legs refused to cooperate. She had to accept his help again, and she found herself relying a lot on his support. She swayed when she took the first step. His arms steadied her, and she allowed the accidental embrace to soothe her. She folded into his chest, smiling to feel him hesitate before wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He wasn't Anghelos, but he would do as a substitute.

"I'm so tired," she whispered.

"Don’t worry. We'll sleep soon."

Even in her sleepy state, she shuddered at the sound of "we". Her bodyguard didn't seem the sort of man who cuddled.

She held the bags of clothes while he checked them in the hotel. It didn’t have the customary five stars as she was used to, but it wasn't the sort of dump she feared. When she walked behind him in their room, Eleni was pleased to notice the twin beds and the clean cotton sheets. She sighed relieved, closing her eyes. She heard more than saw him snooping around the room, presumably making sure it was safe.

"We should push the beds together," he said.

Her eyes snapped wide open at this only to see the insufferable grin again.

"Very funny," she said, yawning.

"Go to sleep. I'll tuck you in when I come back," he said, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked, but he left without answering. "Bastard," she grumbled half-heartedly and yawned again.

Eleni fished her slim cell from the bag where she had stashed it when she changed her clothes. She dialled her brother's number. Anghelos picked up from the first ring.

"How are you, Li?"

"Fine. Exhausted. Lost."

"Lost? Are you alone?"

"For the moment. I'm in our room, he went to look around again I guess. We're staying at a place called..."

"Don't tell me," Anghelos interrupted her. "You shouldn't even have called me but I'm glad you did. I'm very worried about you."

So, Anghelos thought that his phone might be tapped. Calling him may not have been a wise move, but she needed to hear his voice.

"I'll probably have to get rid of this cell phone," she said.

"It would be safer. When this thing is solved, you'll read it in every newspaper. I'll unmake them for threatening you."

She heard the raging anger under the almost calm tone. Her brother had a capacity for vengeance equal to the ancient myths. There were a lot of things she admired at her older brother, in a manner akin to hero worshipping. His ability to pour his innate anger so brilliantly into his work was one of them. She had envied his intuitive leaps and his ingenious ideas for all the years they worked together. Now she had only a vague idea of what her brother was capable of doing to anyone who had dared to threaten his family.

"I believe you," she said.

"I need you back."

"As soon as you say it's safe, I'll be there. Kali nyhta, Anghelos."

"Kali nyhta, ligi adelfi."

She was so tired that she barely managed to slip out of her new tight clothes, and slip into the large T-shirt she had shoved among the outfits he had picked for her. To think that only a few years earlier she was able to run the marathon... Eleni fell asleep soundly, despite trying to be awake until "Mr. Green" returned.

Early the next morning, Eleni woke up, finding her bodyguard sleeping fully clothed in the other bed. She tiptoed into the shower, careful not to wake him up. The warm water and the pleasant scent of the shower gel washed away the night's bad dreams. She was almost done rinsing the lather out of her hair when the bathroom door slammed open.

"What the fuck did you do?" he roared, opening the door of the shower cabin.

"GET OUT!" she shouted, trying to cover herself as best she could.

The man took no notice of her scream or her offended modesty. He pulled her out of the shower with one hand and grabbed the big towel with the other. He dragged her wet and barefoot into the room, wrapped the towel around her, picked her up and flung her over his shoulder.

"Put me down! What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

"They're in the hotel. Keep the hysterics down," he said, panting as he ran out of the room.

Eleni became instantly compliant, realizing that most likely her call to Anghelos had given out their location. Adrenaline was flooding her system since the tidal wave of fear rose inside her. Much to her shock, the feel of his calloused hands on her naked thighs caused other hormones to rage in her body.

After he walked through the door at the end of the corridor, she felt the morning breeze caress her skin. He set her on her feet for a second before he picked her up in his arms.

"Hang on tight," he said, climbed on the ledge of the balcony and jumped.

Eleni caught barely a glimpse of the pool before she plunged into the chilly water. Her teeth were clattering when she reached the edge. He was dripping wet too, but his grip was as strong as ever when he helped her get out of the water. The towel was no longer wrapped around her, and the man's gaze travelled briefly over her body before he took off his leather jacket and held it out for her. He flung her over his shoulder before she finished buttoning up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: Guard Dog - chapter 1

Sun, 25 Mar 2007 00:21:27 GMT

Chapter 1

The man who walked in looked like a thug. Even having read his file, Eleni cringed at his appearance. He was tall, built big without seeming bulky, his skull was shaved clean, yet he was sporting more than a five o'clock shadow, and wearing tight leather pants, a long snake skin jacket, oh, so much piercing, an eyebrow and an ear was what she could notice, at a first glance. It had to be a serious threat this time if her big brother chose such a man to protect her.

"Good morning, Mr. ... Green," she said taking a noticeable pause in which she looked at the open file in front of her, as if she forgot his name. "Please, have a seat."

She fancied she could hear the jingling of rings when he raised the bejewelled eyebrow. She did hear loud and clear the grunt of refusal.

The man looked casually around her impressive office before heading for the wall made of glass that showed an excellent view of the blindingly bright Greek town. He seemed out of place in the intense daylight. Eleni wondered how much her brother had to pay this man to get him out of his shadowy life to play the bodyguard for a poor rich girl. She trusted Anghelos with her life, so she had no hesitation to place her safety in the hands of the man he had chosen.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" she asked.

Greek hospitality no longer had the same extent as the ancient laws enforced, but Eleni tried to act as courteous as possible.

"Or maybe ouzo? Scotch?" she amended her offer.

He turned to look at her with a grin she chose to interpret as approvingly amused. He nodded to the scotch, and kept watching her as if curious about her reaction. Eleni was not a novice at the reactions game. She stood up with difficulty, supporting her weight heavily on the desk until she could reach for the ebony cane that stood discreetly propped against the drawers.

She hobbled all the way to the drinks cabinet making more use of the cane than she had needed in months. She rested it against the side of the cabinet while she poured his drink. Hew new bodyguard looked like a straight scotch kind of guy, so Eleni didn't even ask if he wanted anything else.

She brought him the glass with the same exaggerated limp. She had to admit that she was impressed. After the initial almost imperceptible startle, he hadn't moved a muscle to come to her aid or anything. Anghelos was the only man in her life that acted this way since her accident. Eleni wondered if her brother had advised this guy to act the same.

He accepted the glass taking the opportunity to look her up and down again, paying particular attention to her injured right side.

"Needs work," he said, pointing at her leg.

It was more crudely put than her physical therapists kept telling her, but it amounted to the same thing. It was interesting that he'd be so blunt, and she could appreciate the lack of pity, or any emotion whatsoever. She did not however approve of his lack of common courtesy.

"You're welcome," she answered pointedly the missing thank you.

He held her gaze while he drank his scotch in silence. Eleni rolled her eyes, and walked back to her chair twirling the cane as a drum majorette. She threw it over her shoulder without looking back before sitting down at her desk. She didn't hear him move but she heard the sound of the ebony wood connect with his hand in mid flight. She smelled the scotch on his breath when he bent to set the cane in the exact place from which she had removed it.

"Are you done?" he asked.

The quiet tone contrasted with the gruff voice. Eleni could glimpse the iron self control this man possessed. She wondered if he could see any outward signs of the crawling sensation she felt all over her skin.

"Why is this threat different than all the others?" she asked.

He straightened up before answering. Eleni waited patiently for him to sort what he knew from what her brother authorized him to tell her.

"It checked out. They can get to you. Here."

The young woman shivered despite the heat of the Greek summer. Her house was her sanctuary. She had made sure it was not just a castle, but a fortress. After the accident, she had retreated from the world and its dangers. Angehlos insisted that she attended social events, but apart from those, she never expected danger to enter her life ever again. The death threats were common enough since Anghelos and Eleni Nickodemus were the owners of a large weapons manufacturing facility, and they were both actively involved in the research and development and new technologies. The security measures ensured that such threats never amounted to serious danger.

"Why you? Why didn't he send a team to fortify my house?"

This time she did see pity cross his features, even if only briefly. She wished yet again that she could just not notice such things.

"He can't be sure who to trust."

She bit her tongue hard not to ask him why her brother was sure of him. Anghelos had made it perfectly clear that he trusted this man. The file on "Mr. Green" – she was amused at her brother's sense of humour to choose to call this biker badass "Mr. Green" for the obvious connotations of safety – detailed most of his reasons.

"Are you enough? Can you keep me safe?"

She tried to leave only ice in her voice. Unlike him, Eleni failed to control her emotions completely. She hated the sliver of fear they both heard in her voice.

"No. Not here."

Her head snapped up at hearing this.

"What? What do you mean not here?"

"We need to get out of here. I have to keep you safe."

"So, Anghelos is going to deal with whoever is behind the threats, and all you have to do is keep me alive?"

"Safe," he corrected.

"Here's safe," she whispered without looking at him.

This time, she didn't even need to watch his eyes to know that there was pity in them.

"Not at the moment," he said.

She nodded in sad understanding. She loved her home, loved the laboratories dug under the house, deep in the bedrock, and wished she could enjoy the same peaceful life for years. Beyond all her need for comfort and stability, Eleni was a survivor. She knew it when she clawed her way from under the ruins of her old laboratory. In one way or another, she had always known it.

"Where to?" she asked, standing up.

"No packing?"

"Anything I need, I can buy," she answered with a shrug.

She took her cane heading for the door, and the man followed her. Eleni could sense his presence in a way that surpassed hearing his footsteps, or the sound of his breathing or the smell of smoke that surrounded him. She felt him like electricity. He made her skin tingle.

"Cards can be traced," he told her.

"I'll get cash from an ATM before we leave town."

"Several small amounts."

They were walking towards the elevator. Eleni had it installed not as much for the two upper levels as for the five underground ones. She was already in pain from forcing herself to walk unaided. The fear escalating inside her with every heartbeat did not improve her state.

"Are you doing this on purpose? Are you trying to scare me by showing me just how surgically I have to be removed from my life?" she asked, well aware that he could see her fear.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, but you need to understand it's serious."

She stopped to look at him in astonishment. She was leaving the sacrosanct safety of her house. She was following him, a total stranger to her, to go wherever he intended to take her. How much more serious could she get?

"Do you know who's after me?" she asked instead.

"No."

Eleni didn't let his laconic answer deter her.

"Then why are you so sure you know what to do?"

"I know how to be invisible."

Eleni couldn't help looking him up and down much in the same way he had appraised her. She took in again his stature, his impressive built, the shaved head, the leather, the piercing, and not least of all, his eyes. This man was as far from invisible as she could imagine.

Maybe he meant it as legally or electronically invisible. The world was no longer a place to be easy to get lost into, as Eleni knew well, having done her share of complicating it. She could understand that it took skill and practice to get lost without a trace.

When they got off the elevator, all the way to the parking lot, Eleni made unostentatious use of her cane. Her right leg was beginning to annoy her with unwelcome pain shooting through it every now and then.

"I assume we shouldn't take one of my cars," she said.

"My bike."

"I c-can't ride a bike," she stuttered embarrassed.

She felt her composure starting to crack. The further she was going to get from her house, the more likely she'd be to fall apart.

"Your leg?" he asked, shooting a glance to her leg and the cane.

She nodded.

"Can't we rent a car?"

"GPS."

"Bikes can have GPS, too," she said petulantly.

"Not this one. I took it apart and rebuilt it."

He swung one leg over the bike, straddling it in the comfortable attitude of a man used to it. He patted the saddle behind him. Eleni looked at it with barely concealed dread. The last time she spread her legs was at a routine visit to her gynaecologist. That was some time ago. She did it though, knowing that there was no turning back now that she decided to put her life and safety in his care.

The young woman got behind him slowly, grimacing in pain as she did so. She put her palms on his shoulders, taking in a deep breath in preparation for sitting down on the saddle. She gripped his leather jacket without realizing as she sat. Hot pain throbbed through her leg. She held her breath trying to contain the whimper. He rubbed her leg from knee on the outside of her thigh. It seemed to alleviate the pain. She unclenched her fingers from his jacket and rested her head on his back. She pressed her cheek on the cool leather, closing her eyes and inhaling his scent. Such a strange mixture to associate with safety. Smoke, leather, scotch and motor oil.

She ran her hands down his sides and encircled his waist. He put his hands over hers and wrapped her arms tighter around him.

"Hold on to me," he said.

His voice sounded assertive, yet gentle. She opened her eyes and held on to him as the bike's engine roared. The vibrations of the bike made her even more aware of the hard body between her legs. The speed increased the fear that her brother's warning and this man's presence initiated and sustained inside her. She hadn't asked for a helmet, the speed was making her dizzy. She pressed her body harder into him, fear turning into panic. Her breasts were crushing against his back, pain was mixing with arousal now, but above all, encompassing all, engulfing all was the fear.

"Help me," she whispered, sure that the noise would cover her admission.

~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Damien Rice lyrics

Sat, 24 Feb 2007 15:39:02 GMT

Damien Rice lyrics
because they are amazing, and I wanted to use my new userpic.

"I remember" "The Professor" "The Animals Are Gone" "Accidental Babies"

DAMIEN RICE LYRICS

"I Remember"

I remember it well
The first time that I saw
Your head around the door
'Cause mine stopped working

I remember it well
There was wet in your hair
I was stood in the stairs
And time stopped moving

I want you here tonight
I want you here
'Cause I can't believe what I found
I want you here tonight
I want you here
Nothing is taking me down, down, down...

I remember it well
Taxied out of a storm
To watch you perform
And my ships were sailing

I remember it well
I was stood in your line
And your mouth, your mouth, your mouth...

I want you here tonight
I want you here
'Cause I can't believe what I found
I want you here tonight
I want you here
Nothing is taking me down, down, down...

Except you my love. Except you my love...

Come all ye lost
Dive into moss
I hope that my sanity covers the cost
To remove the stain of my love
Paper maché

Come all ye reborn
Blow off my horn
I'm driving real hard
This is love, this is porn
God will forgive me
But I, I whip myself with scorn, scorn

I wanna hear what you have to say about me
Hear if you're gonna live without me
I wanna hear what you want
I remember december
And I wanna hear what you have to say about me
Hear if you're gonna live without me
I wanna hear what you want
What the hell do you want?

"The Professor"

Well I don't know if I'm wrong
Cause she's only just gone
Here's to another relationship
Bombed by excellent breed of gamete disease
I'm sure when I'm older I'll know what that means
Cried when she should and she laughed when she could
Here's to the man with his face in the mud
And an overcast play just taken away
From the lover's in love at the centre of stage yeah
Loving is fine if you have plenty of time
For walking on stilts at the edge of your mind
Loving is good if your dick's made of wood
And the dick left inside only half understood her
What makes her come and what makes her stay?
What make the animal run, run away yeah
What makes him stall, what makes him stand
And what shakes the elephant now
And what makes a man?
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
No I don't know you any more
No, no, no, no...
I don't know if I'm wrong
'Cause shes only just gone
Why the fuck is this day taking so long
I was a lover of time and once she was mine
I was a lover indeed, I was covered in weed
Cried when she should and she laughed when she could
Well closer to god is the one who's in love
And I walk away cause I can
Too many options may kill a man
Loving is fine if it's not in your mind
But I've fucked it up now, too many times
Loving is good if it's not understood
Yeah, but I'm the professor
And feel that I should know
What makes her come and what makes her stay?
What make the animal run, run away and
What makes him tick apart from him prick
And the lonelier side of the jealousy stick
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
No I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
No I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
Hell I don't know you any more
No, no, no no...
Well I don't know if I'm wrong
'Cause she's only just gone
Here's to another relationship
Bombed by my excellent breed of gamete disease
I finished it off with some French wine and cheese
La fille danse
Quand elle joue avec moi
Et je pense que je l'aime des fois
Le silence, n'ose pas dis-donc
Quand on est ensemble
Mettre les mots
Sur la petite dodo

"The Animals Were Gone"

Woke up and for the first time the animals were gone
It's left this house empty now, not sure if I belong
Yesterday you asked me to write you a pleasant song
I'll do my best now, but you've been gone for so long

The window's open now and the winter settles in
We'll call it Christmas when the adverts begin
I love your depression and I love your double chin
I love 'most everything that you bring to this offering

Oh I know that I left you in places of despair
Oh I know that I love you, so please throw down your hair
At night I trip without you, and hope I don't wake up
'Cause waking up without you is like drinking from an empty cup

Woke up and for the first time the animals were gone
Our clocks are ticking now so before our time is gone
We could get a house and some boxes on the lawn
We could make babies and accidental songs

I know I've been a liar and I know I've been a fool
I hope we didn't break yet, but I'm glad we broke the rules
My cave is deep now, yet your light is shining through
I cover my eyes, still all I see is you

Oh I know that I left you in places of despair
Oh I know that I love you, so please throw down your hair
At night I trip without you, and hope I don't wake up
'Cause waking up without you is like drinking from an empty cup

"Accidental Babies"

Well I held you like a lover
Happy hands and your elbow in the appropriate place

And we ignored our others, happy plans
For that delicate look upon your face

Our bodies moved and hardened
Hurting parts of your garden
With no room for a pardon
In a place where no one knows what we have done

Do you come
Together ever with him?
And is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
And do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?
What about me?

Well you held me like a lover
Sweaty hands
And my foot in the appropriate place

And we use cushions to cover
Happy glands
In the mild issue of our disgrace

Our minds pressed and guarded
While our flesh disregarded
The lack of space for the light-hearted
In the boom that beats our drum

Well I know I make you cry
And I know sometimes you wanna die
But do you really feel alive without me?
If so, be free
If not, leave him for me
Before one of us has accidental babies
For we are in love

Do you come
Together ever with him?
Is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
Do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?

What about me?
What about me?

Fiction - unfinished

Fri, 23 Feb 2007 19:36:03 GMT

Pairing suggested by hayguys

I don't think I can finish this story. I need to redeem the guy in order to let him have sex with her, and that defeats the purpose of the exercise.

~~~~~

Paul Montgomery no longer resented going to the office on Saturdays since Amy started to work for him. He accepted having the sixteen year old around as a favour for his son, who had a massive crush on her. He even agreed to her leaving early when Sam came to pick her up. His son started to look and act less nerdy since he was hanging around Amy. Probably he would still be at the nerd table when the school year started, but he could see the improvement.

That was why Friday's events upset him so much. The little cock tease played with Sam's hormones for most of the summer only to shoot him down the night before. She wasn't going to get away with it. If he had to be honest, his determination to punish her was as much on behalf of his son, as for the constant arousal she had subjected him all summer.

"Hey, Monty," his partner greeted him before stepping back in his office.

Paul nodded hurrying to his own office, barely managing not to slam the door. He had to calm down or she'd figure out something was wrong. He sat at his desk, going through the most boring account he could find until it was time for Amy to get there.

"Good morning, Mr. Montgomery," Amy said.

"Morning, Amy. And it's Paul, remember?"

She sat on her knees on the chair opposite him and leaned over the desk. The little minx! She had to know what she was showing him, and what that did to him.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," she said, in a sing song voice. "What do you want me to do today... Paaaaaaaul?"

She was doing it on purpose. She wasn't the smartest sixteen year old, but she was not stupid. He turned the file around, and pushed it in front of her. Far enough so the edge would touch her breasts. He kept his eyes on the text, but noticed the bouncing, and heard her gasp. He spread his palm over the page, his fingertips almost but not quite touched her.

"Study this file, and at the end of the day, tell me how you'd handle this account."

He ignored her for the rest of the day, making sure that the building would be empty by the time she gave him her report.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the afternoon passed, Paul left her alone in his office for a few minutes, while he swept the place, making sure everyone left. Good. They were all alone. He went back into his office, and closed the door carefully. He sat casually on the edge to the desk, and looked at her intently.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She looked up at him, licking her lips distractedly.

"Stand up. Make me a professional presentation."

The girl stood up beaming. She ran her hands over her short skirt, fiddled with her tight little T-shirt, and straightened up, pushing her tits forward in the process. He shifted a little so that he would be able to conceal the erection he knew was about to happen.

He listened to her voice, paying little attention to the words. She sounded like she was reading a book report. He walked over to her, then stepped behind her. He held her shoulders when she tried to turn to face him. He corrected her position, brushed his fingers over her stomach, stopped under her breasts, pressing gently on her diaphragm, touched the underside of her breasts. He felt her heart hammering against her ribs, then slid his hands down along her sides. He didn’t grab her hips as he wanted to, but rested his hands gently there. His thumbs brushed her lazily, accidentally sneaking under her T-shirt. She started to turn her head toward him, her voice wavering.

"Keep talking," he said, threading one hand in her hair.

He placed his fingertips on her temples, and combed her hair back, making sure he caressed her neck as he did so. He stopped her here and there, making corrections, asking questions, and constantly adjusted her posture. By the time the girl delivered her conclusions, she was panting. His hands hovered over her breasts when she breathed the last words.

"Very good, Amy. Take a deep breath now," he commanded.

She did as she was told without hesitation, only to find her breasts pushing against his palms as she breathed in.

"Oooh!" she exclaimed when his hands instinctively cupped her breasts.

She took a step back slamming her ass straight into his hard cock. She yelped at this, but when she tried to get away, his arms tightened around her.

"Paaaul!" she exclaimed.

Her voice sounded throaty, cranking up his lust. She huffed, trying to wriggle out of his arms, but he kept hold of her. He walked her forcefully toward the desk, trapping her against the hard desktop and his hard cock.

"What are you doing? Stop!" Amy whispered, trying to free herself.

She tried that by pushing her body back into him, in an attempt to get away from the desk. Paul thrust his hips into her ass, giving her a preview of what was in store for her. He kneaded her breasts, ignoring her fingers frantically trying to pry his hands off her. He lowered his mouth to her neck, and kissed his way up the pulsating vein, from the hollow of her neck all the way her jaw. Amy shivered, and she almost stopped struggling. Paul heard the soft whimper that escaped her lips when the tip of his tongue touch and skin. Her hands no longer tried to remove his, on the contrary, she pressed them harder on her breasts.

The girl seemed to catch fire pretty damn fast. Why the hell did the little tease brush off his son's advances? She was more than willing to give in to him. She yelped deliciously when he pinched her nipples.

"Do you like this?"

Amy moaned and twisted in his arms, pushing her chest forward, and her ass back. He had his hands full of her young flesh, and her ass was definitely working on getting his cock harder. She was purring and meowing, but not answering.

"Do. You. Like. This?" he repeated, twisting her nipples as he uttered each word.

She meowed at first, but he must have reached very close to her pain threshold.

"Oh, God, Yes!" she said eventually.

She was panting and grinding herself unashamedly against him. He pulled up her skirt and shoved his hand in her panties. The scrap of fabric was thoroughly wet. He pulled his hand up, ignored his fingers coated in her honey, and grabbed her shoulders turning her around roughly. She looked up at him through heavy eyelids. He pushed her on the desk, shoved a knee between her legs. She parted them eagerly. Paul rubbed her pussy over the soaking panties. He wanted to rip them off her and thrust into her up to the hilt.

"Then why did you pushed Sam away? You want this. Your cunt's dripping. You want a big hard cock inside you. Why didn’t you spread your legs like this for him?"

Amy gasped, her eyes welled up. He pushed her panties aide and drove his fingers deep in her pussy as he watched her trying to speak.

"Why? You're hot, wet and oh so eager to be fucked. Why did you turn him down?"

He watched her lip tremble, holding back the need to take her.

"B-because..."

"B-because what?" he asked, imitating her tone mockingly.

"Because I wanted you," she whispered.

~~~~~~~~~

Fiction: "Kane's Temptation", part 4

Sat, 17 Feb 2007 17:12:44 GMT

Kane's Temptation

Part 4

He saw the fleeting smile cross her features. It confirmed his wildest hopes, sanctioned his hottest fantasies. She opened the car door, and swung her legs slowly enough for him to take in the sight. Her legs had looked good at sixteen, but they were gorgeous now. The stilettos she was wearing accentuated the shape. His gaze travelled up from her ankles, all the way to her thighs. She was wearing a dress that reminded him a hell of a lot of the one he had nearly ripped off her. Not pale yellow, but a light cream, that went well with her tan. She slid out of her seat causing her dress to bunch up around her hips before she stood up.

She took a few steps away from him, swaying her hips purposefully. She must have known the effect she had on men, and Matt Kane was no exception. The little tease was going to get hers tonight. If she was banking on his quasi paternal feelings to keep her pussy safe, she was in for a shock. From the way she twirled showing off her body more than her dress, she wanted him to go all the way tonight.

"What do you think? Do I stand a chance to be reunion queen?" she asked.

He looked her up and down appraisingly, carefully hiding the hunger he felt. He cocked his head to one side, leaning casually on the Jeep's roof. The beautiful long legs looked incredibly attractive. From that distance he could see the effect of the high stilettos on her calves, and on her entire posture.

"Mmm, not sure. Come closer and do that twirl again," he said.

She took a step back toward him, but he interrupted her pirouette.

"Closer."

At the sound of his voice, Jenny stopped in mid-spin. She finished the movement with a slight hesitation. When she was facing him again, she took another step toward him. She looked at him questioningly. He nodded, and she did another pirouette. Sheriff Kane held his breath watching her. She wasn’t wearing a bra, as he had noticed since she was in the car. Her breasts bounced delightfully as she moved. So much fuller than the last time he had squeezed them.

"You definitely stand a chance," he said, while south of the border, he was standing to attention. "You're a very beautiful woman, Jenny."

"Thank you, Mr. Kane," she said.

Her voice sounded just like it did when she was sixteen. And just like then, the effect on him was electrifying. The words, the tone, it hit that spot in his soul, that darker side of his desires that made him want to take her then and there, and take her hard. He took the last step that separated them.

"You're all grown up now. Filled up everywhere," he said, inspecting her curves with lustful eyes.

He bowed his head, until his mouth was almost touching her neck, holding back the urge to brush his lips against the alabaster skin. She tensed at this intrusion in her personal space, but didn't move away. His breath caressed her skin, causing her to tense up even more. She was vibrating like a violin cord, all the playful flirtation gone.

He let her scent permeate him. He enjoyed the discreet, expensive perfume overlaying her own feminine scent. There was something else. A faint sweet smoke lingered in her hair. He leaned his head over her shoulder, sniffing at her hair, more like a cop than a lover.

"Grown up, but still hanging on to your bad habits," he said with heavy satisfaction, recognizing the signal to go for it.

"I don’t know what you mean, sir," she breathed.

He looked down at her scrap of a dress that revealed enough of her body to make him want to learn every curve with his hands and mouth. There was no place to concealed anything under it, and they both knew it.

"Turn around and put your hands on the car," he said, repeating the words from so long ago.

She must have remembered them, judging by the way she gasped and shivered. And then obeyed, without questioning. It felt like all those years never happened.

Her ass looked so much nicer, round and firm, a delightful shape under the sinful dress. Her legs seemed longer, too, partly because of the heels, but he knew she had grown a few inches since she was sixteen. He enjoyed a long look at her calves, before he swept her body with his heated gaze, while his hands were itching to roam all over her.

She was wearing her hair long, hiding the beautiful neck. He wanted to thread his fingers through it, but he also wanted to play this scenario perfectly, as he had so many times in his mind. When his gaze finally reached her hands, he saw that she was holding on to the roof rack with a white knuckled grip. The sheriff grinned, he could do something about that. He stepped behind her, and snapped the handcuff around her wrist, passed the chain under the bar in a swift motion, and cuffed her other wrist.

"Oh, God," she whispered so quietly he barely heard her.

"Now, let's see what you’re hiding under this dress," he said, beginning to run his hands down along her arms, then over her sides, making sure he passed his fingers over her breasts, then bent at the waist to caress the outside of her thighs and her legs. He sat up slowly, running his hands on the inside of her legs.

"Spread your legs," he ordered when he reached her inner thighs.

His fingers worked their way up to the white lace covering her pussy. He rubbed the sensitive flesh through the wet panties, loving every whimper and every shudder. She moved her hips instinctively, wanting more contact. She spread her legs further, causing the panties to slide a little to the side. He teased her for a while, not taking advantage of the position, but soon yielded to temptation and plunged at first one finger, then two, inside her. She was hot, dripping, throbbing and he knew he couldn't keep his dick out of her much longer.

She let out a disappointed whining noise when he removed his hand, and wriggled her hips trying to get closer to him. He slapped her ass with his left hand while he licked her juices off his fingers.

"Eager beaver, aren't you?" he drawled, leaning over her.

"God, yes," she whispered.

He pulled her to him, wrapping his left arm around her waist. Jenny moaned feeling his stiff cock rubbing against her ass. He swept her long hair over her left shoulder and leaned over. He began kissing the right side of her neck while he fondled her breasts. She hissed and threw her head back as he raked his nails over her hardened nipples. He slid his hand down her stomach while he peppered kisses on her jaw. Jenny turned her head so he could reach her mouth. Their lips met at the same time his hand was over her pussy.

He brushed his lips over hers, reluctant to deepen the kiss. She moved her hips grinding her ass against his cock thoroughly, getting him so hard he felt his trousers would explode. He cupped her pussy harshly and when her lips parted in an involuntary gasp, he sneaked his tongue in her mouth. Jenny moaned and pushed her pussy harder in his palm. He growled as he pulled her dress up, pushed her panties aside and shoved two fingers deep into her. She squirmed under his touches.

"Please, please, Mr. Kane, I want you, please," she begged him.

He heard the desperation in her plea. If she felt like him, all the years they spent apart had built up the desire. She must have dreaded the possibility that he'd stop again.

"Want you, too, Jenny. Not gonna stop," he reassured her.

"Thank you. I wanted you for so long. Soooo long," she whispered, letting out her breath in a long shuddering sigh.

He kept kissing her and fingerfucking her for a while, but he couldn't stand it any longer. He undid his trousers and whipped out his painfully hard cock. Not the best position, since her Jeep was high enough to keep her from bending at the waist. This would have been so much easier if she still drove her low Corvette. He guided his cock to her entrance with his hand. Jenny shifted her body as much as she could so he'd have better access.

He steeled himself, positioning the thick round head, holding back the urge to slam into her. Next time, when he would have her bent over the hood of the car, he was going to slam into her without restraint. She was tight, and the angle of penetration was not helping at all. He slid into her, inch by inch, feeling the wet lace brushing his cock. He cursed under his breath when he realized that he couldn't get any further. He was about halfway in!

Lucky they were both so aroused that he could allow the first fuck to be quick. He ground his teeth moving very little in an attempt not to slip out of her. Jenny was moaning her pleasure softly, and Matt knew he was probably not doing so bad. Her hot whispers spurred him on. He thrust his hips harder into her a few times, but he eventually he slid out of her. He led the slick shaft back to her entrance, he was a couple of inches in when Jenny lifted her right leg off the ground slowly. He slid deeper inside her as her leg went further and further up.

"Fuck, Jenny!" he exclaimed, when she finally stopped.

Her foot rested on the handle of the Jeep's back door. She looked like a ballerina practicing against the bar. He put his hand under her thigh, helping her remain in that position once he started thrusting into her again. The new position allowed him to bury his cock almost all the way in her pussy. He reached down with his left hand, flicking his fingers over her clit, eager to get her off as soon as possible. He could feel the pent up tension threatening to undo him.

"Oh, God, Mr. Kane, yes! Yes! Yes! YESSSSS!"

She came wildly, clenching her inner muscles around his cock. He tried to resist, but the pressure was unbearable. He roared as he thrust harder shooting jets of hot come in her depths.

After he slid out of her, she lowered her leg, and leaned heavily on the car. He wrapped both arms around her still throbbing body, kissing her neck and her shoulder, until he felt her tremors subside. He took the key out of his pocket, and uncuffed her. He tucked himself in while she turned around.

Jenny remained silent, keeping her eyes down. He put a finger under her chin and tilted it up. He couldn't see her features well in the dim moonlight, but he could feel her body tense, and her breath shallow. He leaned to kiss her. She answered timidly at first, but soon her arms were around his neck, pulling him closer, and her mouth showed her eagerness and desire. He held her tight, crushing her breasts against his chest.

"You're very late for the reunion now," he whispered, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"This is the only reunion I wanted," she admitted. "It was worth the wait," she added.

"Yes, it was" he agreed, "but you’re not getting away so easily. It's too dangerous here, but..."

"Motel room?" she suggested eagerly.

He nodded. A motel room was definitely the way to go.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The end

Or to be continued... (not sure)

Fiction: "Kane's Temptation", part 3

Fri, 16 Feb 2007 00:19:04 GMT

This chapter is far from what I thought it would be. I'll look over it again tomorrow. Maybe it's not as bad as i think right now.

Kane's Temptation

Part 3

The sheriff sighed recognizing the red Corvette. It was the third time he caught her speeding. He knew he had to be severe this time. The problem was that there had been days when he found himself thinking of ways he'd like to discipline her. It was both strange and disturbing to have these new feelings. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. About anyone.

They went through the routine. He put on the flashing lights, she pulled over, rolled down her window.

"You were speeding again, Jenny," he said.

"I was?" she asked.

She looked innocently at him. It wasn't going to work this time. None of her tricks would work. He had to scare her a little, for her own good. Driving fast between Springfield and Wolf Lake wasn't dangerous, but she seemed to make a habit of it.

"You know you were," he said in a serious enough tone so that she'd know he's not kidding anymore.

He put one hand on the car roof, bent at the waist, and leaned in close, lowering his head enough to be level with hers. He was about to go on playing the serious cop, when he caught the scent. It was faint but he had busted enough teenagers to recognize it. Marijuana. He straightened up, and took a step back.

"Jenny, step out of the car," he said levelly.

She cut the contact, and obeyed. He was angry and disappointed, but that didn't stop him admiring the long beautifully tanned legs, nor the figure hugging dress. Didn't stop him noticing she wasn't wearing a bra. He could see the effect the chilly air of the early summer night had on her breasts. Her nipples were visible through the thin fabric making his hands itch to touch her, and his cock swell in the tight confines of his trousers.

"What's wrong, Sheriff?" she asked meekly.

"You know very well. I can smell the smoke. When did you start smoking marijuana?"

"I didn't..."

"Don't even try!" he said.

The sheriff climbed in the driver's seat she had just vacated. He looked in the glove compartment and did a summary check of the front seats. He found nothing, not even ashes. The same suspicion came in his mind. She might have been speeding on purpose, and maybe she wanted to make sure he wasn't going to let her off with a warning again.

"What did you do with it?" he asked, getting out of the car.

"With what?" she asked.

She couldn't have thrown anything out the window since he started chasing her, because he'd been watching her car. The more he thought about what he knew about Jenny, the more he believed that the vixen wanted to get a reaction out of him. She tested him? Well, he was going to test her.

"Turn around and put your hands on the car."

She startled, looked in his eyes for a few seconds, as if she was trying to determine how serious he was. She must have seen his determination, because she lowered her eyes, and obeyed the instructions.

He took his time studying her figure in the silvery moonlight. Her pale yellow dress was designed to reveal more than cover her body. He was grateful for her short haircut, which allowed him to admire her long elegant neck, and the outline of her spine. Her dress looked like it was held up by magic, because the two straps on her shoulders were so thin they were almost invisible in the dim. His hand hovered a few inches over her shoulder, hardly resisting the temptation to slide the straps off her shoulders. The long zipper at the back of her dress was screaming to be slid down.

How the hell was he supposed to frisk her when his mouth was watering as he was looking at her cute ass? Not efficiently, that was how.

He put his hands on her shoulders, caressed his way up along her neck, trying to stave off the urge to slide or rip the straps of her dress. He kept his palms around her neck while he learned the contour of her jaw with his fingertips. She let out a soft moan, making him close his eyes in an attempt to steady himself.

He took a deep breath and started to run his hands down, over her shoulders, down her sides, brushing the swell of her breasts with his fingers in passing. His dick twitched at the thought that he could easily cup her breasts in his hands. He heard the low growl coming out of his throat as he imagined feeling her nipples scratch his palms. He felt her buck instinctively against his grip when he paused on her hips.

She yelped when his palm connected with her flesh. The slap surprised him as much as her. The sensation was unexpected but pleasant at the same time. He slapped her ass again, and after she yelped she rubbed the stinging spot with her palm. He grabbed her wrist harshly and put it back on the car's roof, and at the same time he put his free hand over the hand she hadn't removed.

"Keep your hands here," he said.

He felt the tremor going through her body. She reacted to his low, menacing tone and to his hard grip. He kept her wrists pinned to the roof of her car while he stepped closer. She tensed as their bodies touched. He denied himself the pleasure of grinding his hips into her. He was getting harder, and with that his common sense and his self control seemed to desert him.

He slid his hands down along her arms, and this time, he didn't stay away from her breasts. He cupped them, kneading the firm flesh gently. The girl whimpered quietly as he did so, only to get louder when he rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger. He lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing the soft skin delicately.

"Oh, Mr. Kane," she moaned.

It should have been a rude awakening. Instead it turned him on even more. He ran his hands down her belly, pulling her closer. He held her body flush against him with one arm coiled around her waist. His other hand reached further down, until he was cupping her pussy over her dress. Her sharp intake of breath kicked his libido into overdrive. He thrust his hips into her, his dick hardening by the second. He pulled her dress up, and ran his fingers up and down over her wet panties.

The girl whimpered and wriggled in his embrace, trying to get even closer, but not moving her hands from where he had ordered her to keep them. He pushed her panties aside, and dipped on finger in her hot wet pussy. She spread her legs, rolled her hips, wanting to feel more and more of him.

"Oh, God, I want you so much," she murmured heatedly.

He kissed her shoulder, her neck and her jaw. The girl turned her head, offering him her mouth.

"I want you, too, Jenny," he said, kissing the corner of her mouth.

He heard himself saying the words, and the reality of what he was doing hit him. This was Jenny! She was like his own daughter. He pulled his hand out of her pussy and stumbled back a few paces.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said, and hurried back to the police car.

He drove back, wrecked with guilt for what he had done, and, much to his shame, still throbbing with lust. The memory of the young body shaking in his arms, her whimpers, her voice whispering that she wanted him, all of these would haunt him for the years to come.

~~~~~~~

Matt Kane heard about Jenny's sex life a few months after that incident. He had caught two high school seniors smoking pot, and he took them to the police station to scare them a little. He had called the boys' parents and they agreed that a night in jail would only do them good. He listened to them absentmindedly while he filled in some forms, but the name Jenny caught his attention. He gripped the edges of his desk hard as one of them talked about his new girlfriend.

"We were at the make out point, when she suggested that we drive a little further away. So there we were, no other cars around, it was pitch dark, I lean over, we're kissing for a while, her shirt's off, I had my mouth on her tits, when she says she'd like to step out of the car. So, we get out, and she's kissing me, and then she says 'I want you to fuck me from behind' and she turns her back to me. She put her hands on the roof of the car and stuck her ass out. It was the best fuck we ever had. She came twice before I came. We tried all sort of positions, but I'll be damned, there's something about fucking her against the car. There's nothing better than feeling that tight pussy milking my cock when she comes."

The sheriff stared in the middle distance for a long time. He knew he was right not to take what she had offered him, no matter how much he had wanted it or how much he still regretted it. He was aware that he shouldn't even have let things go as far as they had.

The memory of that encounter stayed with him, even if sometimes he wondered if it really happened.

Twelve years later he was in his usual spot. None of the locals drove fast there, but there were enough reckless drivers passing through Springfield to keep him busy. The big black Jeep sped by, leaving Springfield. He caught up with it halfway to Wolf Lake. He took down the number, and approached the car.

"Good evening, sheriff," Jenny Skylar said.

"Jenny? I didn’t know you came back."

"It's the ten year high school reunion. That's where I was going. I was running late again," she said smiling.

He tried to look her up and down but he couldn't see much of her. He didn't miss the cleavage.

"You don’t get the full effect while I'm sitting here," she said with another smile.

"Step out to let me see then," he said before he could stop himself.

~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: "Kane's Temptation", part 2

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 22:46:53 GMT

Special thanks to hawk_by_choice and jossversejunky

Kane's Temptation

Part 2

The red car zoomed by like the Roadrunner. Sheriff Kane started the engine, turned on the flashing lights and hurried after the speeding Corvette. The car pulled over immediately, Kane parked right behind it, noted the number and approached the driver's window.

"Good evening, Sheriff," Jenny Skylar said quietly.

"Jenny," he answered, nodding in recognition, but unwilling to let the conversation become too familiar. "License and registration, please."

When she reached for her purse in the other seat, her already tiny top slid up exposing so much of her back that the dad in him wanted to tell her off about her choice of clothes. The man in him caressed the exposed skin with his eyes, wishing she'd take a long time to find her papers. Unfortunately, she straightened up, offering him the documents in a matter of seconds.

"I see you got the car," he said, keeping his eyes on her brand new driver's license.

"Yess," she said, beaming at him.

He knew well the angelic look. No wonder she and Melissa were best friends. His daughter used the same sort of smile when she tried to get out of trouble.

"You were doing a fair turn of speed. What was the rush?"

He saw her smile dimming a little. She let out a small sigh, and her eyes got that pleading puppy dog look he knew so well. It usually worked when Melissa employed that particular tactical weapon, but he had already decided to let her off with a warning.

"Oh, the movie starts in twenty minutes, and I wanted to get there in time."

He shook his head disapprovingly.

"It's just a movie, Jenny. Not worth risking your life driving so fast."

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. I know it was wrong. I won't do it again. Promise."

She was doing the whole "poor little me, I made a mistake but I'm so sweet you have to forgive me" routine. He would appreciate it a lot more if his gaze wouldn't keep dipping in her cute, rather revealing cleavage. She was probably in such a hurry because she was meeting some boy. One who would taste her strawberry flavoured lip gloss, who would get to touch the small of her back, the skin he only glanced at, reach around her shoulders while they're watching some stupid blockbuster, who would get to fumble eagerly pawing her young breasts

"All right, Jenny. I'm not going to give you a fine this time, but this better not happen again. Next time I shan't be so lenient."

He used his daddy voice, but knew that she wasn't going to respond to it. He remembered all too well what he thought about rules and authority at her age.

"Be careful, Jenny," he added, referring not only to her reckless driving.

He gave her back the license and registration. Their hands touched, and he saw her eyelids flutter. He had too many years of experience to give in to the sensations that shook him to the core.

"I will. Thank you, Mr. Kane."

Her tone was soft and serious. No pretence this time. She meant it. He couldn’t help reaching inside the car to caress her head gently. He hadn’t meant anything sexual with the touch, but he heard her sigh, felt the sudden tension in her body, followed by a slow uncoiling. He felt her trust, her surrender to the belief that he was never going to hurt her, that he'd protect her as if she were his own daughter. He felt this way about her, loved her almost the same way he loved his daughter, but there was something more than that. Something that made his initially chaste touch seem dirty, wrong, evil.

He removed his hand, ruffling her hair playfully as he did so. She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it as best she could. She gave him a long look and a small smile. There was something serious in her eyes, as if she was trying to reassure him that she would behave herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Jeep almost disappeared out of sight by the time he switched on the engine. When he got close enough, he noticed it was the Skylars' car. They weren't the kind of people to drive recklessly unless it was an emergency, but they were already pulling over, having noticed the lights of his cruiser.

Matt Kane hurried to the driver's window, wishing to clear things up and let Mr. or Mrs. Skylar go back to attending whatever emergency had made them rush. He hoped it was nothing wrong with Jenny.

"Good afternoon, Sheriff," Jenny said as soon as she lowered her window. "I'm so sorry."

"Jenny? What happened? Why are you driving your parents' car?"

She must have seen the concern on his face because her smile faded.

"Oh, I have to pick up my mom from the shopping centre. Something's happened to her car, my brother and Dad are building up a gazebo, and she sounded like she bought half the Mall, so my Corvette's tiny trunk wasn't acceptable, so Dad gave me the keys. Was I going very fast?"

"Yes, you were," he said, but he caught a waft of alcohol. "Jenny, have you been drinking?"

"What? No! Oh, that!"

She got out of the car, and opened the door behind the driver. He followed her, and swallowed hard as she bent over, looking for something under the driver's seat. He wondered if she knew what image she was offering, what that did to a man. Mercifully, she wasn't wearing the tiny top, so he was spared the view of her skin. He wasn't spared the thought of running his hands over her back, grabbing her narrow hips, grinding his hardness against her firm little ass.

She straightened up with a triumphant expression on her face and a few shards of glass in her hands.

"Here. Look! There was a bottle of scotch they forgot to take out the last time they went shopping. I heard it break a few miles ago. I wasn't drinking. Honest. I can blow you, blow in that thingy, and you'll see I didn't drink."

Her voice was approaching screeching, and this time the tears welling up in her eyes weren’t part of a manipulation technique.

"I believe you, but just to make sure, I'll give you a breathalyzer. I'll go get one."

He went back to his car, shaking his head at his behaviour. Why was he doing this? He tried to deny the answer. He wanted to see those pouty lips of hers around the straw-like tube, wanted to have an image close to what he wanted, what he didn't even dare to admit that he wanted.

He watched the girl blow, and to his shame he let her do it a little longer than the necessary ten seconds. The pleading look in her eyes turned him on more intensely than anything he could ever remember. He knew that all she wanted was for him to believe her, to know that he wasn't disappointed in her. He wiped her lip with his thumb after he removed the tube.

"Drive slower from now on, okay? I'm sure your mother wants you to get there safely."

She nodded, and climbed back in her car. Sheriff Kane watched the jeep drive away before he turned his car around and went back to town. On the way back to the police station, he wondered if there was any chance she did it on purpose. She was Melissa's best friend, and she knew enough about his habits, to guess that he would see her drive fast, and if he saw the car speeding, he would pull it over. The next time she did this, he was going to teach her a lesson.

~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: "Kane's Temptation", part 1

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 08:45:23 GMT

Special thanks to sir_lancelot_88

Kane's Temptation

Part 1

Every Monday and Thursday for two years, Sheriff Kane had driven his daughter and Jenny Skylar, her best friend to high school in the neighbouring town of Wolf Lake. Last month, Melissa had turned sixteen, so he and her mother gave her a car as a birthday present, and all of a sudden his Mondays and Thursdays seemed emptier. The habit was so deeply engrained, that he still had the urge to stop by Jenny's house two mornings each week. She lived down the street from him, and he always passed by on his way to work.

He caught himself slowing down in front of the Skylars' place again, and remembered there was no need to do so. He was about to speed up when he saw Jenny running on the driveway, waving at him excitedly. He tried not to think of her breasts bouncing under her shirt. He could still remember the embarrassment of noticing them for the first time the pervious year. It was like she exploded into womanhood. All the "she's just fifteen" mental chanting didn't help.

He pulled over and opened the window to ask her what was wrong, but she circled the car and climbed in.

"Good morning, Mr. Kane," she said, panting.

He couldn't ignore her breasts now. He was looking in her eyes, but he was permanently aware of the delicious shapes visible under the thin fabric of her shirt.

"What happened? What's wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, Mr. Kane, I'm so glad I saw you. Melissa and I had a fight last night, and this morning she didn't show up to take me to school, and my parents left for work, and you know the school bus doesn't stop here because I always had someone to drive me to school, and I didn't know what to do, 'cause we have a Math test today, and I didn’t want to skip it or anything like that."

She said it all in one breath, making him smile. It was manner of speaking so typical for a teenager. She sounded just like Melissa when she was trying to convince him and her mother to let her do something or buy something.

"That's all right now. I can take you there."

"Oh, thank you, sir. I don’t know what I would've done if I hadn't seen you."

He smiled, reaching for the radio to let the station know he was going to be late. His gaze slid down her legs when he picked up the mic, and again as he placed it back on the hook when the call was done.

"Would it be so bad if you skipped a Math test?" he asked.

"Not usually," she admitted. "But I studied for this one because I was grounded all weekend."

He gave her a lopsided grin. She was rummaging in her backpack so he let his gaze linger on her a little longer than he should have. He kept following her actions even when he was focusing on the road. The strawberry smell of her lip gloss reached him, making him lick his lips instinctively. The next time he looked at her, he had to grip the steering wheel tighter. Her lips were normally cute, but she was a knock out when she pouted. He hadn't had a chance to see it before, but now she was pouting experimentally in the mirror and he couldn't help imagining what it would feel like to brush his lips over hers, to run his tongue over the glossy, strawberry flavoured surface, to enter her mouth.

"Why were you grounded?" he asked, anxious to steer his thoughts from that dangerous path.

"Oh, you know," she said vaguely. "I might have stayed out a little longer than I was supposed to on Friday," she admitted, and when he didn’t say anything, she added, "I also might have argued when I was grounded just for Saturday. I mean, the movie ended half an hour before the time I was supposed to get back, and the drive from Wolf Lake is twenty five minutes, because Melissa drives safely, and I needed an ice cream after seeing that movie with all that sunny weather and tropical beaches."

An image popped into his head full force, Jenny eating an ice cream, actually licking the ice cream dribbling down on the cone, and maybe on her fingers, and she'd suck them one at the time, making sweet soft noises of enjoyment.

"At least you had time to study for your test," he said.

This sort of thing should never happen again. He had just about managed to push away such thoughts when his daughter was in the car, but having Jenny alone was dangerous. He knew he'd never act on it, but it would be too hard to be around her without a safety net.

"Yeah, 'cause I wanted that so much more than going out with my friends," she said, pouting.

He kept driving within the speed limit, even if there was no one to stop a sheriff's car. He told himself he did it because he wanted to be a good example for other drivers, and not because he wanted to enjoy having her alone.

"I can't wait for my birthday!" she exclaimed after a few silent moments. "My parents threaten me I won't get a car when they think I need disciplining, but I know they're getting me one. My brother told me he heard them talking about it."

He could hear the note of worry in her voice. She was trying to reassure herself that she was getting the car. He knew she was getting the car, because he had run into her father when he was going into the dealership, but he didn't tell her. He decided to cut the Skylars some slack, knowing that she was going to be especially nice until she got the car.

"You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" he said.

She shot him a heated glance, but didn't say anything along the lines of "you parents all stick together" as he could guess from her expression.

"Two weeks," she whined. "Two more weeks."

"It's not that long," he said.

Jenny huffed. For a fifteen year old two weeks might as well be forever. In two weeks she'd be sweet sixteen. So sweet he was going to have to avoid her. With that in mind, he kept the conversation to a minimum the rest of the way.

The sheriff stopped the car near the high school. Jenny undid her seatbelt, and opened the door, but before she got out, she leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thank you, Mr. Kane," she said, and scurried out.

He watched her walking hurriedly toward the entrance. He looked at her long shapely limbs, allowed her unconscious grace to envelop him. After all, it was the last time he was ever going to look at her like that. He pulled out of the parking lot without touching the spot she had just kissed. The memory of the soft touch of her lips and the faint scent of strawberries lingered in his mind for days.

~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: "An Unfair F", part 10

Sat, 10 Feb 2007 02:58:03 GMT

It took a while, I'm not completely happy with it, but it's nearly 5 am (again!) and I wanted to post it. If anyone finds typos, or strange wordings, please comment. I'll look over it again in the morning, but help is welcome.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to comment. It meant a lot to me. I never wrote so much, so consistently. If I had feedback like this, many of my novels would be done.

I do hope this last part is not as bad as I fear.

An Unfair F

Part 10

He knew he was going too far, knew it was reckless and dangerous and so very wrong, but stopping was no longer an option.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, baby. Didn’t want it like this for the first time, but you're driving me crazy."

He had imagined fucking her so often, wondered what their first time was going to be like, knowing that sooner or later he would have her, even if he had to wait till she graduated. His fantasies varied from inviting her to his apartment on some work related pretext, to being her knight in shining armour who rescued her and reaped his reward. He had her, in his mind, in a five stars hotel room in Vegas, and in the men's room in the building where his office was. He never played the dark alley scenario, but he was going at it with the same lack of restraint he had in his dreams.

Her sigh drove him further over the edge. She wanted him. After all the struggle, she abandoned herself to him. He loved her strength. It made her abandon all the more precious. He looked at her in the scarce moonlight. A twinge of guilt stabbed through the lust. Her shirt was parted, he breasts stuck up over her bra, her nipples big and hard, slick with his saliva. Her skirt was up around her waist, revealing white panties, a mere light shade in the dim. He had turned this good girl into a wanton creature, unable to resist her desires.

"Anyway you want, just fuck me!" she said.

Her breathy words pushed him further in the red hot lust. He hooked his fingers in the elastic band of her panties, and pulled them down. He bent lower to slide the panties down, sucking hard on her nipple as he did so. When the panties were around her thighs, she wriggled, making them fall to the ground.

"Take one foot out, lift the other leg so I can take them off your ankle."

She stepped out of her panties, and brought her right leg up, slowly, brushing him with her inner thigh. Her leg went higher, bringing her pussy in contact with his groin. She wrapped the long leg around his waist, hauling him closer as she brought her ankle close to his right hip.

"Very flexible. That's good," he said, pleased.

He looked down at the panties dangling off her ankle. He caressed her foot, and further up her leg before removing the white lace. He thrust his hips into her pussy while he pocketed the panties.

"You're wet for me, aren't you? Going to stain my pants with your juices. We should make better use of them," he said, pulling a little way away so he could slide his fingers up and down her honeyed slit.

"Um-hm," she acquiesced eagerly.

He felt her tugging on his belt, fumbling for the buckle. He pushed her hands away.

"I'm faster," he muttered as an explanation.

He was fast. A heartbeat later, his cock was out, long, hard, and ready. He rubbed the thick head up and down her wetness, trying to postpone entering the hot paradise of her body. He licked his fingers, tasting her sweet arousal. He had to lap it all up soon. Not at that time, not in that alley. But soon.

"Gonna eat you all up. Gonna bury my head between your thighs, and lap at your pussy until you come screaming."

He used his cock as he would one day use his tongue, but her moans and incoherent pleadings empowered him to do what they both needed so badly. He started sliding into her, keeping a firm grip on her waist as he made his way in, inch by inch. She was tight and wet, and if that wasn't enough, she was moaning softly, and whispering his name. She was hanging on to his shoulders, her body shaking even worse than his. She was pushing her hips into him as much as she could in her unstable position.

Once he was buried to the hilt, he guided her other leg around his waist. Her ankles locked, her hands gripped his shoulders painfully hard, nails digging into his flesh. He started to move in and out of her slowly. His thrusts became faster and harder. She arched her back, pushing her chest up, offering her breasts. She was whimpering as if in pain between the moans of pleasure.

He kissed her neck, bit her shoulder, then bowed his head lower so that he could suckle on her nipple, trying to keep himself from slamming into her with the full force of his desire.

"Oh, God, Professor! Yes! God, it feels so good!" she chanted, the words cascading from her between whimpers.

"You like that, don't you? Like being fucked against the wall. Like that we can get caught. Not such a good little girl, are you? Do you want it harder? Can you take it?"

He kept talking, saying whatever passed through his mind, just so he wouldn't come so early. She was too tight, he'd been too wound out, he had no chance of lasting too long.

"Mmm, yes. Yes! Hard. Harder. Please," she whispered moaning and trying to meet his thrusts with hers, despite it being almost impossible.

She clenched her inner muscles, making it impossible for him to resist. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder as well as faster.

"Oh, yes! Oh, God, yes!" she cried out when she started to come.

He muffled her cries with a kiss. He pounded hard into her, feeding his self control with her abandon. The more she shook, the deeper she scratched his back, the stronger was his resolve to get through her first climax without letting go. The tremors subsided, her pussy contracted around him less often, and she leaned her forehead on his shoulder.

"So good. Felt so good," she whispered. "My back hurts," she added softly.

He brushed his hands over her back, and when she flinched, he wrapped one arm around her waist, securing her to him as he lifted her up. He ran his free hand again on her back, under the shirt this time. She flinched as he touched the cuts.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry," he said, preparing to set her down on her feet.

"No! It was so good. But I want you to come, too. Wanna make you come, too. Don't let go of me."

He kissed her softly. Cheeks, eyes, mouth. He worshipped her with his lips, wishing he could take the pain away.

"Not letting go, baby. I want you to stand on your feet, and turn with your back at me."

She followed his instructions. She set one foot on the ground, and moaned when he slid out of her before she unwrapped the other leg from around his waist. He kissed her mouth gently again, and put his hands on her hips, turning her around.

"Bend over, and put your hands on the wall."

She obeyed him again. Her ass was rubbing against his hard cock, still wet with her juices.

"Spread," he asked her, caressing her inner thigh with one hand, while his other hand ran up and down her side, careful to avoid the scratches he had felt on her shoulder blades.

He guided his cock in her pussy again, and she sighed loudly. She felt even tighter from this angle, and he started to build up a rhythm, going from slow to fast, from gentle thrusts to hard. She seemed to like it even more, because her moans were getting louder and louder. He bent over her, pushing her shirt up as he kissed her back, trying to soothe her broken skin. His left arm circled her waist, and he reached with this right to cover her mouth. His palm muffled the noises she was making, and from the way her pussy started to clench tightly around his cock, heralding a new orgasm, he could tell it turned her on.

She came again, hard and fast. When he felt her coming down from her high, he straightened up, and gripped her hips roughly. He sped up to the pace he needed, and soon came, emptying himself in her depths, crying out her name as he did so.

He helped her straighten up, held her in his arms, as they both shivered.

"That was amazing," she said, with her head resting on his chest, her words coming out muffled.

"Yeah, it was," he agreed. "I love you, you know?" he added, in a whisper.

"I love you, too."

He tucked himself in, helped her button up her shirt, and reached for her hand. They walked out of the dark alley together, stepped into the light, and lived happily ever after.

~~~~~~~~~

The End

(does anyone miss the to be continued now? :) )

Fiction: "An Unfair F", part 9

Fri, 09 Feb 2007 12:26:48 GMT

Please, don't hate me, but I didn’t go all the way. I need to get out of the house, but I promise as soon as I get back this evening, I'm writing the end.

An Unfair F

Part 9

"Because I need you."

Every time I remember saying that, I wonder where that came from. It's not like I ever stayed to analyze why I saved him. It's probably the truth. I couldn’t stand the thought that those girls would ruin him after taking advantage of his weakness. He took advantage of his position, but they used him, too. In my book, they all got what they bargained for.

At least that awkward moment passed. At least I didn't cry. When he thanked me... Wow, I felt so weird. The way he looked at me then, admiration and gratitude all in one, it was worth more than all the lusty gazes I wished he would bestow on me.

I'm not over him by a long shot, but I know I have to get a life. It's so stupid to waste my college years longing for him when I should be having fun. So, I started dating. Nothing serious, but at least I go out.

It's Friday evening and we went to see "Double Indemnity" with Barbara Stanwyck at the film noir retrospective. There's something about Miss Stanwyck's characters that works for me. I like her strength. Anyway, we were just finding our seats, when my cell rings. I nearly drop it when I hear Mr. Lawrence's voice. The tension in his tone is so heavy I don't even think about saying no. I apologize hurriedly to my date, and hurry out.

He looks pretty stressed out, so I follow him out without arguing. When he leads me in that alley, I start to worry. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. I try to ask him what's going on, I don't get passed the "what" and I'm shoved against the wall.

He kisses me. He does it even more passionately than I imagined. I'm paralyzed by the shock of it, but only for a few seconds. This time I take what he offers. The hell with the rules. Rules? What rules? There's only the heat of his mouth, the force of his body pressing into me. It feels amazing for about five seconds, while I respond to his kiss with equal passion, but when my fingers thread through his hair, he takes my hands away, pinning them to the wall, and I'm in panic mode again.

I don't know how long we've been kissing, but I'm jumping out of my skin. I trust this man, and yet he scares me. His behaviour is so unexpected, and even if it makes my dreams come true, there is just a tinge of fear inside me. I give in to the kiss, I push my body into his, loving the feel of helplessness as my hands are nailed to the wall, forbidding me to touch him. I love the very fear he inspires.

He looks into my eyes moments later, while I'm gasping for breath. My vision is blurred by the intensity of it all, I can feel my flesh trembling with want, my soul shaking with need. His words intensify my state of arousal and fear.

"I am willing to wait for you. But you don’t get to fool around with boys. I don't get to touch you, no one else touches you. You're mine, do you understand?"

My first thought is "wait?!?!?! no waiting!", but then I gradually understand what he means. It should make me so angry, to hear him being so commanding, to order me something like that, but it's not. It's comforting to hear it. To know he wants me as badly as I want him.

"I'm yours?" I manage to whisper.

He doesn't answer, but the way he kisses my neck robs me of all power to question anything. I'm probably acting like a cat in heat, purring and rubbing myself against him. I couldn’t possibly care. I love what he's doing, how it makes me feel, I want more. More. More. More.

"Call the boy. Tell him it was an emergency and you had to leave."

My hand feels so light once he freed it. It takes me an inordinate amount of time to get my cell, with him kissing and licking my neck, his hand roaming over my body while the other still holds me as if chained to the wall. It's a feat of strength to refrain from panting while I speak.

"Hi, it's me. Something's come up and I need to go. I'm so sorry. Please, please, please forgive me."

The please is really for Professor Lawrence. I'm not sure exactly what I'm begging for, I just need him to keep doing what he's doing to me. I can hardly hear my date's offer to take me wherever I need to go, since my breasts are under attack. I manage to refuse politely hoping I took the phone away fast enough because when Mr. Lawrence bit my breast I yelped.

As soon as I snapped the cell shut, and I was getting ready to enjoy his touches properly, he lets go of my hand, pulling away. A whimper of disappointment escapes me.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride to the dorm."

What? No! No, no, no. My mind is racing. What happened? Why did he stop? I remember him saying something about waiting for me, and I groan. I'll die if he makes me wait. I want him. Tonight. Here and now.

"Professor, I don't want to wait."

He looks shocked. What the hell did he expect? That he can set me on fire and leave me to burn on my own? I slide my hands up from his chest, on his shoulders, on his neck. My fingers are shaking as they go up in his hair again. He doesn't remove my hands this time, and I dare to pull him to me. I can sense him trying to resist, but even in that dim light I can see he wants this. Our lips finally touch again.

The kiss is long and passionate, but tender. His arms snake around my waist, pulling my hips closer, while the force of his kiss pushes my shoulders to the wall. The harsh surface behind me scratches my shoulder blades, the pain makes me push my chest into his as hard as I can. He's holding me so tight and I lose track of time.

"We don’t have to do this. I'll wait for you. You're worth it," he says between kisses.

He tries to pull back, but I tighten my arms around his neck, keeping him close.

"Please," I whisper, "don't stop. I want you so much."

"Want you, too. You know I do. Besides, this is crazy, we could get caught," he says, carefully disentangling himself from me, despite my efforts to hold on to him. "You deserve better than this."

He takes half a step back, and I can see him trying to calm down.

"You can't do this! It's not fair."

God, did I just whine?

"Is this how you want our first time to be? In an goddamn alley behind a cinema?" he asks, his tone filled with anger and frustration.

"Fine!" I say, pushing him away roughly. "You win. I'm just like them."

Is this all he wanted? To see if he has power over me? If he can make me want him, make me beg him to fuck me? To show me I'm like the others, ready to spread my legs for him as soon as he asks? And then to let me go without even fucking me

Tears are stinging my eyes and my cheeks are burning as I walk hurriedly to get out of that alley and as far from him as possible. Before I step out in the main street, he grabs my arm and pulls me back. He drags me deeper into the alley, so far from the city lights that we're veiled in darkness. Hope overtakes anger and fear.

He pushes me back against the wall. It's another spot, and it seems downright jagged, chafing even worse my already tender back. I hiss in pain but all I get from him is a kiss, hungry like the first one. I want him, but his earlier rejection still hurts, so I fist my hands in his shirt and try to push him off me. I can’t move him though, he just crushes me even harder with his body.

"You're like no one else I've ever known. I was trying to be good, but..."

His voice is low, husky, his tone dangerous. I try once more to push him off, but I'm responding to the kiss too eagerly for him to take serious my efforts to get away. He uses the weight of his body to immobilize, while his hands make their way under my shirt. He abandons my mouth, sliding his lips on my neck. Not sweetly this time. No more delicate kisses. He nibbles and he licks, he grazes my skin, sucks on a area here, bites another one. I'm out of breath, out of my mind.

"I'm not letting you go," he says. "Just so you know," he adds almost matter-of-factly.

By now, my arms are around his shoulders pulling him closer. My fingers dig in his flesh, and I wish I could get his shirt off. His hands are under my shirt, tugging at the bra. I gasp as my breast pops up over the lace, and is immediately in his palm. He's kneading it, making me whimper and push my chest harder into him.

"This shirt's gotta go," he mutters, trailing kisses down on my cleavage.

"Do something about it," I tell him.

I can feel the muscles of his face shift in a smile against my skin. He starts unbuttoning my shirt with his left hand, while the right is playing with my nipple. As soon as the breast is uncovered, he latches his mouth to it, bringing a string of moans and pleas to my lips. It's too much, it's unbearable, I can't stand it, I want more.

"You never wear skirts at school," he mutters as he moves his mouth from one breast to the other.

That's true. God, I'm happy I'm wearing one tonight! He must be glad about it, too, because he's pulling it up. Slowly. So slowly it makes me writhe with need. I grind my hips into him, trying to spur him on, make him hurry. Doesn't seem to work. It takes forever till his fingers finally touch the soft, sensitive skin of my thigh.

"Oh, God!" I exclaim in an awed whisper, and I keep saying whatever goes through my mind just to keep him from stopping.

His fingers trace the edge of my panties before sliding under the fabric. I'm panting while he squeezes and scratches my ass.

"Please. Pleeeeease," I hear myself begging again.

If he stops this time, too, I'll die. I'll kill him first, and then I'll die.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, baby. Didn’t want it like this for the first time, but you're driving me crazy."

The words, the threatening tone make me incredibly wet, but I sigh relieved. He's not going to stop.

~~~~~~

To be continued...

(very soon. promise)

Fiction: "An Unfair F", part 8

Thu, 08 Feb 2007 01:20:57 GMT

An Unfair F

Part 8

He realized he needed a strategy. If he was to stand a chance of going through the semester without trying anything, he needed some plan, some trick to keep his hands off her. When she bent over to look in her backpack he stared at her ass, knowing he should not. He felt the familiar stirrings again, but it was a long time till he could go home and do something about it. He gripped the edge of the desk, cursing inwardly. He had just about managed to get over her misguided ingenuous question "what would you like me to do first, professor". By the time she started sucking on her pen, he was writhing with lust. Fortunately, her class started, and he got her out of his office before he broke.

He made sure she'd come back that evening. He kept thinking about ways to stave off his impulses. He decided that he should act in such manner so as she'd see him like some sort of father figure, and she'd behave herself. Not that the poor girl was doing it on purpose, but every move she made aroused him. He bought the doughnuts and coffee, trying to act like a caring parent. He was trying to act like an adult, but he hurried to his office like a teenager. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her there. She was just punctual, he told himself. She hadn't hurried because she missed him.

It seemed to work for a while. So much so that when she asked for his help, he felt confident enough to go near her. He did his best not to inhale her scent as he looked over her shoulder, made sure he didn’t touch her accidentally as he flipped through the book, and his voice hadn't trembled at all while he explained. When she turned around and asked him to repeat, looking at him with such an open, innocent gaze, he nearly caved. He retreated to the safety of his desk so fast it was almost embarrassing.

~~~~~

The day she literally fell in his arms had been the worst. She spent so much time near him, it drove him crazy. He stepped out just to clear his mind, and when he got back, he had to catch her as she fell from a chair after reaching incautiously for a book. It hurt to let go of her, but he did. He was glad to notice he was getting better at this whole resisting business.

~~~~~~

It all fell to pieces when they were grading papers. He was comfortable having her in the room, listening to the scratching of her pen on paper while she graded her pile of tests, enjoying the small, inadvertent noises she was making while reading. He knew her tsk-tsk, and her hmm. He smiled when he heard her sigh disappointed in some elementary error she found. His smile faded when he started to notice the similarities. Four papers looked very, very similar. He would have suspected cheating, but one of the papers was hers. He looked at the other three names. Three of his... mistakes.

He confronted her, dreading the answer. Worry turned into hope, and then awe.

"You did it for me?" he asked, daring to hope. "Why?"

"Because you would've got fired."

"Why would you care about that?"

"Because I need you," she said quietly.

He reeled at the admission. A maelstrom of emotions threatened to undo him. He felt unworthy of such devotion. He knew those girls. He hadn't managed to teach them history, but she had. Not only that, she convinced them not to harm him. That was more than he deserved. And yet, and yet he felt hope. Maybe it wasn't just respect. It certainly could not be pity. There was not enough pity in the world to put up with those three airheads.

The girl stood before him, eyes down, while the desk acted like a safety device between them. He knew it then. He must have known it all along, but never admitted it before, not even to himself. He loved her. He would have to have her. He'd do the right thing, and wait for her to graduate. Or maybe he could take a sabbatical next year, so he wouldn't be part of the faculty, and therefore they could...

He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to reach out and cup her face. She needed him. This girl who had mustered enough strength to say no to something she wanted – and he knew she had once wanted him, her confession he had accidentally heard haunted him constantly – and yet she needed him.

"Thank you," he said, barely controlling the raw emotion in his voice. "You will never regret this. I promise you."

She looked up at this. Her eyes were brimming with tears. The sight touched him deeply, strengthening his resolve. He would be worthy of her devotion. She deserved nothing less. No trickery, no seduction. She deserved his best. He looked in her eyes trying to convey somehow the depth of his feelings, despite being bound to silence. She was still his student.

He had to be strong now, and he would have her. He'd have all of her, not just a quick fuck, behind locked doors, permanently in danger of getting caught. She'd be expelled, he'd be fired. He looked at her fingers, still touching the papers. He reached for her hand, held it gently, rubbed his thumb over the edge of her palm.

"Thank you," he said again, and removed his hand.

He gathered the papers, stacked them neatly, and sat back down. She went back to her task. Tension still thrummed in the air, but there was something else in it now. A sweet note of intimate understanding.

~~~~~~~~~~

He wouldn't say that he was calm around her, but the very resolution of pursuing her once she graduated helped him relax around her. They were getting to a level approaching friendship. In this new atmosphere of understanding, she talked enthusiastically about a film noir retrospective. He'd nodded, smiled, and tried to ignore the thought of going.

He was in the lobby of the cinema, lurking in a less visible corner, checking his watch, pretending he was waiting for someone. He was waiting, but not exactly for a date like a normal person. He didn’t know what to expect. He had no idea what he'd do if she saw him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was stalking her.

He saw her we soon as she entered the lobby. She wasn't alone. He hadn't expected her to be alone, but he was so sure she'd come with some of her girl friends. She was with a boy her age. He couldn't even soothe the explosive jealousy thinking they were just friends. He could see from the way she was dressed that it was a date.

He watched them talk and laugh. Watched as they bought tickets, and went in. All the reasonableness, all the good guy veneer peeled off, leaving his true self free of all restraint. One thing was fiercely clear, he could not stand her being in there with that boy. He had barely survived the holidays, just imagining her with someone else. Knowing she was in the dark with a boy, making out, his eager hands all over his girl...

He dialled her cell. Having her around all these months taught him to hide his desire so that his voice would not betray him. Now he used the same restraint to hide the jealousy and anger.

"Hi, I saw you going in the theatre, but I didn’t catch you in time. I need to talk to you. It's important. Could you come out for a second?"

"Yeah, sure," she said.

He was glad that for once she didn’t call him sir. He didn’t want her boyfriend to know who called her. He could only hope she would come out alone, and not tell the boy whom she was coming out to meet.

She came out shortly, and she was mercifully alone. She looked at him worried.

"Hello, professor Lawrence. What's wrong?"

"Not here," he answered and walked toward the exit, barely containing the urge to grab her by the hand.

He heard her follow him. He didn’t allow her time to ask anything, just hurried out. They rounded the corner in a deserted, dark alley.

"What..." she managed, before he pressed her against the wall and stopped her words with a fierce kiss.

He'd been dreaming about her month for months. She tasted better than he had imagined. He pressed his body harder into hers, not caring if it hurt her, almost wishing she were in pain, because he sure as hell was. Pain or not, after the initial shock, she answered his kiss eagerly. He felt her hips grinding into him, her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tangled in his hair, clutching at it. He grabbed her arms and pushed them roughly away, pinning her hands to the wall on either side of her body.

When he managed to end the kiss, he looked deep in her eyes.

"I am willing to wait for you. But you don’t get to fool around with boys. I don't get to touch you, no one else touches you. You're mine, do you understand?"

She gasped, staring at him in utter shock.

"I'm yours?" she asked in a whisper.

He lowered his head, kissing her neck as gently as he had been violent about claiming her mouth. She shivered against him, let out a faint moan that made his lust escalate dangerously.

"Call the boy. Tell him it was an emergency and you had to leave," he demanded in a soft tone, nibbling at her ear.

He released her right hand, and while she fumbled to get her cell he slid his free hand down her side, resting on her hip for a moment, his fingers digging into her flesh, pulling her body harshly into him, before sliding back up. He was cupping her breast when she finally managed to steady he breath enough to dial. He lowered his mouth over her other breast and bit gently through the fabric of her shirt. She writhed against him but her voice shook only slightly. It felt like payback for all the times he had been forced to hide his emotions from her.

Once she completed her call, he pulled away, releasing her other hand.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride to the dorm," he said trying not to show how much will power it took for him to be able to do the honourable thing.

Before he took another step, she put her palms on his chest.

"Professor," her voice shook a little, but she went on after taking a breath, "I don't want to wait."

He looked at her stunned. She couldn’t possibly mean... Could she?

~~~~~~~

To be continued…

Fiction: "An Unfair F", part 7

Wed, 07 Feb 2007 02:43:38 GMT

An Unfair F

Part 7

I ran all the way to the floor where his office is. Once there, I slow down my pace, trying to get my breath back before I get to the door. I don’t know why I hurried so much. It's the first day and he might not even be there yet. I'm dying to see him again. That should give warn me that my intention to quit as his T.A. doesn't stand a chance of coming to happen. After the last few nights... I'm worried about being alone with him. I know all too well he's corruptible. I know he once wanted me. He might hate me now though. If he chose me as his assistant, he probably wants to be sure he's not tempted by hanky-panky action with his students.

My blood roars in my ears so loudly I can hardly hear my knock on the door. His voice is muffled by the wood, but it still makes my heart flutter dangerously.

I didn't expect to see him like this. He looks ill. Gaunt somehow. What the hell has he been doing? I wonder if he's exhausted from a sex marathon, or he had a miserable time, moping around, thinking about his ex wife or about all the teenage pussy he wasn't getting. I am a little bitchy, but I can't help it. He ruined my damn holidays. I had to deal with a large and happy family without letting slip that all I was thinking about was fucking Mr. Lawrence in every way he wanted me to.

He nods distractedly at my hello, and bam! he's giving me an assignment. Do I say no? Do I tell him I can't be his assistant because... I want to beg him to bend me over his desk and take me hard? Well, I was never going to give him the real reason. But what I was definitely not supposed to say was:

"Of course, sir."

Of course sir? Of course sir?!?! What the hell is wrong with me? Like I don't know.

"You can start now, if you have time before your class," he says.

I set down my backpack. I'd stay even if I didn't have time. I missed him so much. How could I miss a man I hadn't even had the chance to get used to? I've only been close to him twice, and yet all throughout the holiday all I could think about was being near him, being in his arms.

"What would you like me to do first, professor?"

Fuck! I said exactly what I was thinking! He's not going to take the question the way I meant it, but damn it was stupid of me. Even more stupid is to wait for him to say something like lock the door and unbutton your jeans. I'm so damn hot for this man that I'd be perfectly fine to get fucked with my shirt still on and my jeans around my thighs, keeping my legs pressed together. I shake my head trying to dispel the image and I daren't look at him.

"Here's the draft of the article. I need you to double check my facts, and write down the corroborating evidence. I wrote this in one go last night."

He's handing me a few pages covered in his handwriting. I still can't bring myself to make eye contact. I sit on the only chair in the room that's not overflowing with papers.

"All you need is probably here," he adds.

My head snaps up at hearing this. Yeah, all I need is here. He looks around the office gesturing to the stacks of books.

"I hope you can find all the books. Once I send this article we should go through this mess and... rearrange it," he says, finishing with a smile.

He lives in an organized mess. A man after my own taste. I cringe internally at the double entendre. I wonder what he tastes like. Bad, bad thoughts. I concentrate on the article, trying to figure what facts I need to check. He wrote this last night... Last night I was thinking about him. He wasn't writing an article in my thoughts. Focus!

I get out of my chair and go to where I left my backpack. I reach down to rummage through it for a notepad and pen. It dawns on me that I stuck my ass in the air doing this, so I straighten up hurriedly, taking the pack into my lap as I sit back down. I gnaw on the end of the pen as I read. I have to go back several times, because his writing is so compelling I find myself reading it for my own enjoyment and not as an objective proof reader.

"When do you have your first class?"

His voice pulls me out of the little cocoon of academic interest, and I'm back in the drool zone. I check my watch and jump to my feet.

"Shit, I'm late!" I exclaim, stuffing the papers in my bag and rushing toward the door.

"Language, miss," he says absent-mindedly.

His voice is calm, almost bored. He must have said it out of habit, but I freeze, remembering the last time he said those words to her.

"I have classes till five. Be here at five thirty," he says without looking up from his book.

"Yes, sir," I answer.

The day passes in a daze of excitement. I'm counting the minutes until I have to return to his office. I don't have to run this time. Actually, I have to try to move as slowly as possible because I started the ten minutes walk to his office at a quarter to five. With all my efforts, I'm at his door twenty five minutes earlier than I should be there. I lean my back against the wall and close my eyes. I open them again at the sound of footsteps. My heart soars at the sight of him rushing toward me. He's early, too. He seems surprised to see me there, and he slows down.

I take advantage of the position I'm in and I stare unashamedly at him while he unlocks the door. I love his built. It says ex ball player, and at the same time there's something unbelievably gentle in the way he moves. His shoulders slump just a little sometimes. It's from all the reading and writing. I noticed this at my dad, too. I roll my eyes at the thought. Honestly, he's a really hot man, and I lust after him. Has nothing to do with my dad or my brother or anything.

"I wasn't sure what you like. I brought doughnuts and coffee," he says, setting on his desk the box of doughnuts, with the Styrofoam cups on top.

I was so busy ogling his body, I didn't even notice them.

"You shouldn't have," I start to say hesitantly.

My words die when he looks at me, cocking an eyebrow.

"Did you eat anything today?" he asks.

I shake my head, feeling more immature by the second. I hurried to come here and didn’t even think about grabbing something to eat. He makes a gesture inviting me to dig in, and I obey both him and the pang of hunger. I take a doughnut and one of the cups and make my way to the chair I had occupied that morning.

"Thank you," I mumble, a little embarrassed by this unexpected consideration on his part.

Once I started to work, I seem to get it together. I have some lapses into drooling day dreaming whenever he stands up, and I watch him from the corner of my eye as he moves around the office. At one point I ask him to clarify something, and he comes behind my chair, bending at the waist, flipping through the pages of the book I'm holding until he finds the right paragraph. The back of the chair is between our bodies, but I can feel him. His breath caresses my neck as he speaks. I know he's not doing it on purpose, but I'm lost. I didn't catch a single word he just said. I close my eyes, trying to get a grip on my emotions. I should quit. This isn't right. When I'm sure I got some control back and I can speak without sounding too squeaky, I turn my head and look into his eyes.

"Excuse me, can you say that again?"

He stands up abruptly.

"Just read that chapter, and you'll see," he says, walking back behind his desk.

~~~~~~~

That was just the first day of the semester. Things got worse and worse.

The time I helped him organize his office, I took every opportunity to be physically close to him. He was always polite and reserved, but that time I couldn't take it. I asked for his help so often that day, it was embarrassing. Every few minutes I'd go to his desk, lean over his shoulder and ask him sweetly "where do you want me to put this book?", only to spend a few seconds next to him. At one point he went to the bathroom I climbed on a chair to reach some books from an upper shelf, and when I heard him returning I pretended I lost my balance. He caught me, of course. I held on to him for as long as I dared, but I didn't push my luck. I want him so badly, but at the same time, I want him to be the best man he could be. Tempting him into fucking another student is wrong. Even if that student was me.

~~~~~~~

We're grading tests in his office. It always surprises that he trusts me enough to grade papers. University regulations ask that the T.A. doesn't grade the tests of his or her classmates. I'm not worried about our tests. I'm confident that both I, and the colleagues I painstakingly tutor have done the best we can.

I know him well enough by now to notice something's wrong. He doesn’t usually "hmm" so much. I look up at him when he stands up. He looks through all the papers and picks four of them out off the pile.

"This is very strange," he says.

I look at him inquiringly and wait for him to go on.

"These four papers all have the same error. The same two numbers are switched in this date. Three times in this paper, four in this one, and twice in these two. I remember you making the same mistake when we were discussing this subject."

All blood drains from my cheeks. Damn, it's not enough I always screw up that date, but I taught the girls wrong, too. He spreads the four papers on the desk, and motions me to approach.

"Can you explain this to me?"

I'm trying to think of a lie, but nothing comes to mind.

"I tutor them. Looks like I didn't catch this mistake when I explained the subject to them."

He looks deeply in my eyes. I can’t read his expression at all.

"You tutor these three girls? Look at the papers," he demands.

I look at the papers. Emma's, Charlotte's, and Ruby's papers. I nod.

"Why them?"

"They needed help," I say, trying to keep my voice casual.

"Don't lie to me. When did you start tutoring these girls?"

"Last semester."

"Why are you doing it?"

I can see he guessed the answer. I sigh deeply.

"They were talking about reporting you. For... you know..."

My voice trails off and I look down embarrassed.

"You did it for me?" he asks.

I hate him for insisting. I nod without looking up.

"Why?"

"Because you would've got fired."

"Why would you care about that?"

"Because I need you," I whisper.

~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: "An Unfair F", part 6

Mon, 05 Feb 2007 16:32:11 GMT

An Unfair F

Part 6

He woke up early out of habit. It was the first free day, but the thought didn't make him happy. School meant seeing her, spare time, meant loneliness. He closed his eyes again. Maybe he should sleep some more. He felt a mild depression rearing its ugly head, and made an effort to fight off the lure of sleeping it off. He sighed deeply as he got out of bed.

He hadn't dreamt about her. Wet dreams had the unpleasant after effect of having to change the bedding, but at least he'd have some release. His cock was already half hard, so ignoring the urge wasn't really an option. He went to the bathroom and jerked off efficiently, hoping that if he got off fast, he'd spend less time thinking about her. It was wishful thinking on his part since she was never out of his mind. He replayed one of the previous semester's fucks, imagining he had been looking at her lovely ass, holding on to her hips, slamming into her pussy. He came, fast and hard. He was free of his teenage succubus for a while.

The freedom didn't last long. He found himself browsing aimlessly from site to site, getting closer to what he really wanted. Porn was a man's best friend, and being divorced only meant he didn't have to worry about getting caught anymore. It only made things harder, but he couldn't help it. At least those girls knew very well what their pictures did to men. Unlike his unwary tormentor.

He watched the pretty brunette sucking off the guy, but it wasn't her mouth he was fucking. When he came, he moaned the name he'd been holding back for so long. Another benefit of the divorce. He didn’t have to be careful what he said and how loud he said it.

The day slid to an end in the same hot, lusty mood. He hadn't masturbated so much since his teenage years. Every minute he spent thinking about her, he got angrier. She was at home, in the arms of a loving family, while he was all alone. A thin sliver of reason reminded him it wasn't her fault he got divorced, and that made the thought of visiting his family simply unbearable. Not her fault that his parents, his brother and his sisters were all happily married. The more he resented her, the rougher his fantasies became.

The first time he imagined her getting back together with her high school sweetheart, he pushed her roughly against a wall. When he saw them groping awkwardly, but eagerly, he ripped her shirt open and went on ripping off every bit of fabric on her body while the teenagers proceeded from first base, to second. His mind was splitting between the images of what she was probably doing and what he wanted to do to her. He couldn't stand the thought that another man's cock was driving deep in her pussy. In his imagination, he forced her legs apart with his knee, he made her wrap her beautiful, long legs around his waist. He channelled the jealousy into passion. He pounded into her with enough force to know that her back was bruising against the wall. She was hissing in pain, but she didn't ask him to stop. She held on to him even tighter, her hands bruising and scratching his back. She screamed her orgasm when he came.

He went to the nearest video store and rented both versions of "Lolita". He returned to the store the next day, and bought them

~~~~~~~

He tried, he really tried to chase her out of his mind, but by the time the holiday ended, he had to resign himself to the fact that it was impossible. The best he could do was to resist the urge to act on his lust.

He was excited and fearful when he got to his office. He wanted to see her, but the very intensity of his desire scared him a little. Was he strong enough? Or would he ruin everything, giving in to his passion?

Someone knocked on the door only a few minutes later. He knew it was her. It had to be.

"Come in."

She opened the door, and sauntered in, a little out of breath. He tensed at the sight of her. After all the fantasies he had had about her, it came as a shock to see her bright and pure. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were very pink from the cold air. He allowed himself to believe that she ran all the way across campus just so she could see him sooner.

He opened his mouth to ask her if she had a good time on her holiday, but he couldn't. She wasn't likely to tell him that she had lots of sex, but he didn't want to think about it at all. She was his T.A. now. She was his.

"I hope you enjoyed your holiday. I have to write an article for The Journal of Modern History. It was on short notice, so I need you here this afternoon to help me with the research."

He felt like a jerk, but he needed to make sure he remained professional. He had most of the research done, but he had to get her working on something. That and he needed a reason to have her around.

"Of course, sir."

"You can start now, if you have time before your class," he said.

As if he didn't know her schedule by heart. She had about another hour until her Literature class, and a ten minutes walk to the auditorium. He had to know if she chose to spend the rest of the time with him or not.

She put her backpack on the floor, and looked at him inquiringly.

"What would you like me to do first, professor?"

~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

An Unfair F (part 5)

Sun, 04 Feb 2007 12:26:58 GMT

An Unfair F

Part 5

Home for holidays. I missed my family, shocking as that might be. When I left for college I was so fed up with my home town I thought I'd never – ever in a million years miss any of it.

There was a lot of catching up to do. My parents are so proud of my TA position. I had told them over the phone, and when I got home there was a cake waiting, with "From T.A. to full T!" written across it. I'm blushing like crazy for those initials. My parents teach high school and as frustrating as they find their job a lot of the times, they'd be proud if I chose to do the same. After tutoring the blonde squad, I can't say I'm not a little proud I managed to get them to know their way around a history book.

It's my own A that's making me blush. The A that led to my getting the teacher's aide position. I am not going to think about the T. That resolution goes to hell when my brother comes in. How screwed up am I? I'm crazy about a guy who looks a hell of a lot like my brother and does the same job as my dad. I'm starting to really worry when my brother's innocent bear hug makes me wet.

I get through the rest of the day in a haze of longing and lust. All I want is to get to my room, slip in my little bed and think about him. Quietly, under the covers and with the lights off. There's only one place where I'd like to be even more than alone in my bed. Wherever he is now.

The first night home I got to bed late. I was so tired, I didn't even get to satisfy my craving. It followed another day of wholesome family fun that had me climbing the walls in frustration.

It scares the shit out of me when I realize that I look for reasons to hang with my brother. He made a comment about me being unusually cuddly, teasing me that I missed home, after declaring boldly that I can’t wait to get out of that little town on the eve of my departure.

I miss my professor. I'm thinking about him while I sit on the couch, resting my head on my brother's shoulder. I have to make an effort to disguise that I'm sniffing his aftershave. With my eyes closed, I can just about imagine he's my professor. Oh, the term better start soon! I'm in dangerous waters.

In my room that night, I start thinking about the moment when my life could have changed. For the better, if I judge by the painful need that's engulfing me. If I gave in to him then, well, I could always get another F...

So... I'm going to imagine. What would have happened if I hadn't gone the moral way? I heard "my students" talk about him enough. Not just that time in the bathroom, but also when I was trying to help them. Since it was his subject, and he was pretty much all the time on my mind, I couldn't always stop myself beginning sentences with "when Professor Lawrence taught this in class". And most of the times, this little phrase made them start talking about him. Yes, I have a pretty good idea what would have happened if I weren't such a goody-two-shoes.

Here goes.

"My time is valuable. You’re going to have to convince me."

My eyes saucer and I gasp in surprise when I realize what he means. Oh, God, my dreams are about to come true! Screw the grade! I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I run my tongue over my lips. He's staring at them, which only makes me more flustered.

My delayed first instinct is to ask him what would take to convince him. I bite my lower lip forcing the words down. I don’t want to miss this opportunity.

"I'll do anything to convince you."

I can't believe I just said it. I sink my teeth painfully in my lip, and close my eyes. My head's spinning. He still holds my hand. It feels good, the way his hand almost crushes mine. I feel his other hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing softly over my lower lip.

"Let go."

Does he mean let go of the lip, or just let go of everything? I release my lip, and open my eyes slowly. He's looking at me with such hunger... So much like my own. I run my tongue over my lip. Fuck, I can taste blood! I can also taste him. The first lick is accidental. I gather all my courage and I run my tongue over his thumb on purpose, holding his gaze the best I can. I see he enjoys it, so I dare a little more. I part my lips and take half of his thumb in my mouth. His lets out a low, appreciative growl that makes me bolder. I slide my mouth until I took in all his thumb, then swirl my tongue around it, sucking gently. He lets go of my hand, which he kept pinned to the desk and grabs a fistful of my hair, leaning over the desk so that his face is inches from mine. When he pulls my hair, I gasp, releasing his thumb. He fists the other hand in my hair and pulls me closer. My eyelids droop of their own accord and I reach the last inch into the kiss.

He is voracious. He kisses me passionately, leaving me breathless, constantly pulling my hair so I have to lean further and further over the desk.

"Anything?" he asks.

"What?" I mumble confused. "Oh!" I exclaim when I remember what I just told him. "Yes, Sir."

"Good," he says, straightening up and pulling me over the desk.

The edge of the desk digs into my flesh. It hurts, but feels good at the same time. My arms are shaking, and I can feel the elbows giving way, but he still pulls me up, toward his face. He leans over and kisses me while he takes one hand out of my hair. He pulls my right hand from the desk. I sway trying to keep my balance, propped only on the left hand. He pastes my palm over the front of his trousers. I moan in his mouth at the feel of his hardening flesh. He coaxes my fingers into tracing the length over the fabric. I ignore the flames that seem to be coming out of my cheeks and I obey my curiosity. I try to learn the shape though layers of fabric. He's so big... makes me shiver.

I'm lost between the kiss and the sensations caused by the tactile exploration. I didn't even notice he unbuckled his belt. He pushes my hand away a little, enough to unzip the trousers and take his cock out, then, when I hesitate, he wraps my hand around it. I startle and try to take my hand away, try to pull out of the kiss. He's holding me in place, clutching my hair even more painfully, pressing me inescapably into the kiss.

He presses my hand into a tight fist around him and begins to move it up and down. My experience is limited, but this is one of the first things I ever did with a guy, and although it's only been a handful of guys I touched like this, I always tried to learn from them how they liked it. I let him teach me how he wants to be stroked. It's slow at first, though he made sure my grip on him is so tight I think it borders on painful. He picks up the pace, and the way he grunts gets me unbearably wet.

"If you just want to pass, make me come now. If you want an A, you need to go further," he says, panting.

I'm hot, wet and needy like never before. It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in through the lust.

"I want you," I whisper, "to give me an A," I manage to add lamely.

"Then we should proceed to the oral part of the examination," he says.

I would be amused of how corny that line is, but in the heat of the moment, his voice husky with lust, and his thick cock fucking my fist, I shiver in expectation. I lick my lips as my eyes stray down. It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen. The swollen, glistening head comes out of my fist, disappears in it, then comes out again. I bend over the desk as best I can, but in order to reach properly I have to climb on it a little. My breasts are pressed into the tabletop, my hard nipples protest in pain, but it’s a delicious sort of pain.

I haven't done this much, and never with any object as thick as his cock. I only use my tongue and my lips at first, trying to build up the nerve. I lick the smooth, wet flesh, running the tip of my tongue over a bulging vein and around the head of his cock. I keep licking till a growl of frustration from him gives me the last incentive. I open my mouth wide and slide him in a couple of inches. He's too damn thick for comfort. Doesn't compare to sucking off high school boys. His grip on my hair is so painful now that I can feel tears welling up, but all he does is pull my hair while he holds my head in place. He doesn't pull my head closer, doesn't slam into my mouth. I can sense the tension in his body, and that constant rumbling growl is getting me hotter, urging me to dare more. I'm bobbing my head slowly, trying to get in more and more of him. Its' a long time till I feel I reached my limit, and I realize that I haven’t taken half his length in my mouth. I try to go further, but I feel I'm gagging.

I look up at him, afraid he's displeased, or at least disappointed. The man looking down at me is not my professor. It's my brother.

I startle. Oh My God! What the hell is wrong with me? I'm panting, flustered, panicky. I love my brother, and I think he's a handsome devil, but this, this... This is so wrong. I need to do something about my professor. It's him I want. This happened just because I used my brother's chaste embraces to soothe the desire on which I didn't dare act. I thought it would be safe. Thought I might relieve some of the longing.

There's one way I know for sure would release some of the tension. This time, I don’t go into details. I touch my clit the way I know will get me off soon, and I think about Professor Lawrence's cock slamming into my slippery wet pussy. The pleasure builds, I'm almost there. Almost. Almost. Yessss! I shudder, stifling the moans as I come. My brother's face flashes in front of my eyes replacing Mr. Lawrence's for a second, but it's my professor I think about during the orgasm, and it's him I imagine coming as the climax subsides.

Soon after, I fall asleep with a guilty but satisfied smile on my face. Best damn sleeping pill!

The next morning I start to worry. Not about my accidental virtual incest. That doesn't mean anything. I'm worried about being around Mr. Lawrence for a whole semester. Maybe I can get out of it.

~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Fiction: "An Unfair F", part 4

Sat, 03 Feb 2007 12:52:50 GMT

No sex, more UST. Help me!

An Unfair F

Part 4

Days passed while he waited for the sky to crumble. Every time the phone rang, he thought it would be the Dean's office, or the school board, or the police. He's made up his mind. He wasn't going to try to deny her accusations. He was not going to defend himself telling the whole world how he caught fire every time he thought of her. He wouldn't cheapen even further what he was feeling. He did enough by screwing his students.

When he saw her in the auditorium, waiting demurely for his class to start, he nearly turned on his heels to run. He didn't. If this were the only way he could have her in his life, he'd have to grit his teeth and show some restraint. There would be no touching her, no looking in her eyes to see if the fire was still there. He couldn't help his imagination run away when he was at home. He'd have her then. He'd explore every passionate urge. In the privacy of his bedroom, he touched her imaginary flesh. In his dark, lonely nights, she was truly his.

In the cruel light of day, she seemed to drift further and further away. She blossomed under his eyes. Class after class, she looked brighter, more confident. There was no more pen hunting under the desk. He hated himself for missing that.

Saying no to the others had been so much easier than expected. They begged for it, and he felt like shit because it was so easy to say no. He had never wanted them, but he had taken them. He had made them give themselves to him. No matter how easily they did that for just about any male, he had no right to take, let alone demand.

They all failed the first test. None had studied, confident on the other way to get their A's. He waited for all hell to break loose. He waited again to hear from the Dean. Tried to catch the rumours about him that must have been floating around the campus. Nothing happened. Even stranger, they passed the next test. Deservedly.

The holiday approached. She was going to be away from him for so many days. He looked around his office. Books and papers stacked randomly and precariously everywhere. He kept postponing hiring a teaching assistant. Since he no longer had a family life, with family dinners and family obligations, he had decided he didn't need one that year.

It felt like cheating, but what the hell. All's fair in war and... It was going to be torture having her around, but it was better than the alternative. At least he wouldn't be touching her from up close rather than not touching her from afar.

She didn't apply. That was a sign. That was a clear "stay away" signal. It felt like a slash across his heart. He had to prove to her that he had changed. He looked for her in the library. He knew her habits well. He shook his head, scared to realize that he was approaching a stalker level obsession.

He watched her for a few seconds. His eyes stayed glued to the small of her back. A square inch of skin showed between the waistband of her jeans and her shirt rode up as she stayed almost splayed over the books laid in front of her. He sat next to her ignoring the urge to place his hand there, to feel the smooth skin.

Her expression softened from annoyance into something so sweet he felt his heart ache.

"Professor Lawrence! Hi!" she said.

"You didn't apply for the TA job."

Straight to the point. He couldn't be so close to her for too long after all the time spent away. Not safe.

"Umm, I..."

"You’re the only one I can trust," he said.

It was true but not the real reason. He was making her believe he was a danger to his female students. As if she was the only one who could keep him good. That part was true, and yet not why he was there.

"I need you to believe in me again. I need you to see me how I really am."

He hadn't meant to say that. Not because it was a lie, but because it was the truth. The sort of truth that should be held back, locked in a vault.

"I'll give you my resume tomorrow."

Had the room just lit up? His world seemed brighter. There was going to be light in his shadows.

He spent all next morning wondering if she was going to show up. He knew she would if she said it, but he couldn't help the nagging doubt. His eyes strayed to the bottom desk drawer. He kept her paper there. He had smoothened it as much as possible, it still looked crumpled. Very fitting.

True to her word, she came with her resume. He looked over it, out curiosity as much as to cover the awkwardness. Asked her a few questions and gave her the position.

He made sure they spent as little time as possible before the holiday. He was only going to miss her more if he got used to having her around. Even so, every day she was away, it was hell. He had never in his life waited so eagerly for the new semester to start.

~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

(what else?)

Fiction: "Chiaroscuro"

Sat, 03 Feb 2007 08:19:19 GMT

This was supposed to be a short story to submit to a publishing house, but it just didn't want to stay within the limit of words, so I abandoned it. A comment from sir_lancelot_88 made me post it here. Hope you enjoy reading it, sex free and unfinished as it is.

Chiaroscuro

On the first Tuesday of each month, Christian Saladin St. Etienne, count of Rochefort was visiting his great aunt, the marquise of Beauchamps. Officially, this was all he was doing. Unofficially, he was also doing his rounds. There were several unsatisfied wives on his lands, and St. Etienne was very conscientious about keeping his tenants happy.

On the first Tuesday in August, however, St. Etienne's thoughts were largely occupied with the preparations for the celebration of the Assumption. He ignored the sharp summer storm and rode back to the castle, unwilling to allow the weather, no matter how capricious, to change his plans. He rode through the pouring rain, the strong blasts of wind and the lightning strikes that scarred the sky and startled his horse. He kept a tight rein on his stallion, with the self-assurance of the consummate cavalry officer he had been during the war. No storm would, just like no battle ever had, make him lose control over himself or anyone at his command.

The storm clouds seemed to bring the night sooner. It was pitch black when he took the horse into the stables, but the clock only struck half past seven when he entered the castle. If he was fast enough, and in his military carrier he had learned to be so, he would not even be late for dinner.

He used every moment of the thirty minutes until dinner with maximum efficiency, so he hardly needed to speed up his step when he walked to the dining hall. He passed through the portrait gallery aware, as always that, he looked very little like the paintings of his ancestors.

There was a family air, a haughtiness that had to be bred in and could not be cultivated, but there was little else. St. Etienne had inherited most of his physical attributes from his Arabic mother, along with his middle name, Saladin. He had to laugh at the irony of being named 'defender of the faith' when for most of his life he had had to defend his name, his honor or his country.

He ran his fingers through his still wet hair before sitting down at the table just as the clock struck eight. A man of strict habits, courtesy had forced St. Etienne to form new ones to include his two long-term guests, Claire d'Alba, the fiancée of his nephew Olivier, and Claire's chaperone, Madame Verneuil.

When the two women entered the hall, St. Etienne stood up in greeting. For the rest of the evening he carried the conversation with the older woman, with unusually rare contributions from the girl.

A random thought made St. Etienne pity Madame Verneuil. The widow was still young, of an appropriate financial and social status for remarrying, and she should have had better luck than to be stuck in the country to chaperone a strong willed, mercilessly intelligent, extremely rich heiress. He felt sorry for her in a casual way, and decided to keep her in mind if the opportunity for an adequate marriage would arise.

His feelings on the subject of his young ward were far more complex. He had taken on the responsibility of watching her, so that his nephew would find his virgin bride when he came back from the war. That however did not stop him resenting her for disturbing his lifestyle.

He couldn't help admiring her. He liked her sharp mind, her determination and her subtly demonstrated but very real lack of scruples when it came to getting what she wanted. That was not to say he was indifferent to her physical beauty. On that score alone and he would have approved his Olivier's choice.

All his sincere admiration and rather improper attraction went flying out the window however when her boredom would turn him into an object of interest. Her questions about his past, about his family, or about his method of managing his fortune annoyed him to no end. Partly because he was a private person, but mostly because he was at a loss on how to handle her.

However, even that was not the worst. The absolute worst was the girl's ignorance of her feminine charms and her sexuality. No beautiful woman in his experience could be so utterly blind to the effect she had on men. Yet all the time he took to study Claire assured him that she was not faking her ignorance. His careful inquiries about her background hadn't turned out even the slightest bit of gossip. Apparently, young Claire was a nice, well educated, mild mannered eighteen year old girl who was cursed with a brilliant, inquisitive mind, and totally oblivious to her sensual side.

For all these reasons, St. Etienne almost failed to notice the change in her behavior. For the first time in the months since Claire had moved into Clouds Castle cracks had appeared in her demure attitude. He still wouldn't go as far as to call her new attitude as flirty, far from it, but she seemed to regard him with a different kind of curiosity than when she was poking her nose in his past or his affairs.

There was something about the long, furtive glances she bestowed on him. Her new, ravenous curiosity was somehow intimate in its intensity. She was doing her best to disguise it, but her very lack of practice in this area made her almost obvious in her interest.

He decided to give Claire the opportunity to study him at her leisure for the rest of the evening. The girl was usually sharp and intelligent, but that night she simply did not notice that he was in fact surveying her in the crystal mirror on the wall opposite her. What he saw affected him deeply. The girl was searching his features almost hungrily. He had seen desire on women's faces many times over the years, but he had never expected to see it, let alone inspire it in Claire.

At first, the discovery flattered him, then he began to worry that the girl's infatuation will make her stay at the castle very difficult, to say the least. All of a sudden, the thought struck him. Something must have triggered this surprising change. What could it have been?

He started thinking. Today. A day when he had been absent from the house. She had not seen him before he left, which was at daybreak, and she was already different when she stepped in the dining hall. When he had come back, he had checked with the servants if there had been any visitors and the negative response assured him than none of his lady friends had dropped by to enlighten young Claire about his hidden talents.

The paintings! The realization hit him hard. It wasn't even a supposition. He knew it in his gut that Claire had found his painting studio. With all it contained. His paintings of the women he had seduced over the years. His passionate, rather explicit paintings and sketches.

It had to be it. Claire's tutor had been held off on the other side of the valley by the storm. What the hell had her chaperone been doing? Claire in the clutches of boredom was more dangerous than a hungry tiger. She had found his secret refuge. His secrets.

One of the things the wars had taught him was self-discipline. St. Etienne got himself under control for the rest of the evening, reserving the night to come to a decision about Claire. The one thing he did decide on the spot was to curtail the girl's false sense of security. He resumed his usual behavior, which included addressing her and looking at her. He was satisfied to see her starting out of her daze.

As soon as his guests retired for the night, St. Etienne went straight to the studio to verify his suspicion. Little details betrayed the presence of someone else in the room. He was so fanatical about keeping that place all to himself that he even cleaned it up on his own. When he did consider that for a good floor scrubbing was due, once every few months, he would put everything in locked cupboards before the servants were allowed in, and he was present in the room while they cleaned.

Most of his paintings were leaning against the walls, one behind the other, all with the back to him. He had loved all the women he had painted over the years, even if the feeling was brief, sometimes no longer than the night they shared. Looking at them reminded him that he was alone. After every encounter, after every long-term affair, he was always alone. He had painted all of them from memory. Always alone, just him and the canvas. The most he had done outside this studio were some rushed sketches while his lovers were asleep. None had ever posed for him. No one in the world knew about the paintings.

He went through his personal gallery of lost loves as he retraced Claire's progress through his room. Ever the experienced hunter, St. Etienne could track her presence in his sanctuary as easily as he would if her were hunting an animal in the woods. Animals and men, he had had his share of tracking both. Hunter, warrior, killer, landowner, businessman, they were all names for only one thing: predator. In everything he had ever done, he was nothing if not that. A predator defending his territory. His only refuge from his public and private life was his painting.

With every canvas he knew that she had touched, he got angrier. She had dared enter his sanctuary. Every woman he saw immortalized by his own hands brought the feeling of emptiness more and more into focus. All he had had, all he lost or thrown away over the years. He was forced to look at it all, and take stock.

For the first time in years, he felt something with all his soul. He hated her. He hated the angelic Claire with such dark passion he only felt before killing. Duels and wars were the proper settings for this feeling, not his sanctuary. Hatred like this, boiling, dark hatred was the prelude to violence. But violence toward a woman had never been an option for him.

He paced up and down the floor of the large room making the candles flicker as his coat fluttered behind him. He could not decide on a course of action. Ironically, he found himself drawn to the easel. As if painting would help him see things more clearly. There was only one subject on his mind. He took off the painting he was working on before setting a block of paper on the easel.

From the moment he touched the paper, his anger began morphing. The first sketches were sharp, twisted memories of her, while hatred and anger still burned hot in him, but soon they changed. Her features lost the feral air, turning back to the natural sweetness he saw every day.

A few hours later, the candles were almost completely burned, the dawn of a summer's day was coloring the black sky around the edges, and the floor of the studio was half covered with sketches of Claire d'Alba. St. Etienne covered the easel with the white cloth out of habit, and gathered all the papers off the floor piling them on a table before he left the room.

Fiction: "An Unfair F", part 3

Sat, 03 Feb 2007 01:22:34 GMT

This is crazy! This is not a damn porn is it? Why can't I dedicate myself like this to my novels? Grr!

Dear readers,

I have the firm intention to write steamy bend the girl over the desk sex. It seems that it might take a while till we all get there. Please bear with me. Or just read the post which will have in huge font at the start "sex starts here".

An Unfair F

Part 3

"This is unfair."

I sound like a whiney ten year old, but I want like a cat in heat. I want to shred my clothes off with claws I don't have. And his. Want to tear off his shirt. Send the buttons flying like shrapnel. Want to feel his skin against mine. I'm dying and he's the only cure. He's offering it all. The grade I need and the fuck I want. Why don't I jump at the chance?

So what if he gave me an F! Maybe the paper isn't good. Maybe I'm wrong. I can have all I want if I just reach out to touch him. So what if I have to spread my legs for him, begging for an A I don't deserve.

Except I do. That snaps me back. I want him but I'm worth more than this.

"I deserve an A. I'm not going to pay for one. No matter how much... how much I need it."

And, oh, God, how I need it! He must understand. I need the A for my scholarship. I need him to keep myself from falling apart.

All the storm raged through me in a matter of seconds. He's still nailing my hand to the desk. The pressure on my wrist borders on painful. His thumb caresses my skin so gently. I almost crumble. God, to be wanted like this! Wanted so much to be hurt and comforted at the same time.

"No."

The word comes from afar. It fell from my lips like a blade slashing through the veil.

"No. You can have all of them, but I'm not going to be a part of this. Do you have any idea how amazing you were? The best teacher I ever had. I trusted your judgement and your values. If this is what you are, then I better fail."

I pull my hand away and he lets go. I expected him to stop me. To say something. Explain himself. Or tell me I'm wrong. Or pretend I misunderstood. He doesn't. I crumple the paper and throw it past his shoulder, aiming vaguely for a corner of the room. I'm halfway out the door when I hear his voice.

"Wait."

So quiet. Not hesitant, not fearful. A notch above a whisper. I stop without turning to look at him. I draw in a breath to ask him what he wanted when he speaks again.

"You had your A all along. It's in the Registrar."

I turn to ask why, to see if he means it.

"Don’t. Just leave."

"But..."

"Get out!"

You'd think that no one can push you away without sounding dismissive, or arrogant, or hurtful. He succeeds. I don’t feel bad to hear him telling me to get out. Almost makes me happy. He sounded like himself again. My teacher. Cool, collected, and professional.

I close the door behind me, relieved, despite the aching, unfulfilled desire. I'd rather have my teacher back, than have a quick fuck with sex toy in the shape of him.

That doesn’t mean I don't swing by the University Registrar to check out of he told the truth. He had.

My head's spinning with thoughts now. Everything reasonable is spinning madly over the unreasonable heat between my legs. The conclusion that he made me think I got an F because he wanted to fuck me comes with difficulty. I don't want to believe he'd stoop to that. On one hand it's morally wrong and low. On the other, how much would he have to want me to do something like this? Plenty of pretty girls stupid enough to deserve their F's.

The weeks fly towards the holiday. They pass uneventfully enough at first. I'm enjoying his classes again, and I have the satisfaction to hear the girls moaning that they can't get their A's like they did before the mid term.

After the first test, I hear them bitch about it. They started talking about spreading the word about his previous extra curricular demands. Letting the Dean's office and the faculty hear about it. I had always made sure I was nice to them, and they accepted my offer to help them study. Tutoring them is hard work, but the thought that Mr. Lawrence might get fired and get out of my life scares me enough to make me hold on.

I feel his eyes on me in class, or when we meet accidentally on campus. I never catch him looking, but I know he is. I wonder if he hates me. I'm almost feeling guilty about ruining his fun. It was two weeks about our near-fuck that I heard about his divorce. Wish I could wrap myself in his arms, press my cheek against his chest, and tell him everything will be all right. Other times I wish I could fuck him into oblivion.

Last week before the holiday, he announces he needs a new TA. I'm writhing with need. I want that position so much. I don't apply though. I want it too much. Not safe.

It's late, the Library is nearly empty, but someone seats next to me. I turn to look at the intruder, eyebrow cocked, lips pursed, and if I had hackles, they'd be raised.

"Professor Lawrence! Hi," I whisper stupidly.

"You didn't apply for the TA job."

"Umm, I..."

I'd end up making a fool of myself over you. I'd cry my eyes out. I'd die burned alive so close to you, wanting you, but never ever touching you, because it would be doubly wrong. As if the pain would be greater if the fire that consumes you alive is twice as hot.

"You’re the only one I can trust," he says, making me shiver.

His voice is soft, in keeping with the silence of the books around us. My brain screams at me to say no. My libido seconds it, knowing that the double taboo will only mean less chance of falling into temptation.

"I need you to believe in me again. I need you to see me how I really am."

He said he magic word. I wonder if he knows it. He needs me. I've been teaching history by the spoonful to a dozen girls for this man. How much worse can this get?

"I'll give you my resume tomorrow," I whisper, underlining the formality of the situation.

He nods, and leaves. I can't help resting my head on my arms, books forgotten for a while. My brain and my libido walk away arm in arm. My heart is thrumming though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

(damn, these three little words again!)

Fiction: "An Unfair F", part 2

Fri, 02 Feb 2007 17:59:12 GMT

It's still UST. I'm sorry I couldn’t get to the action. I hope that at least yukinoitazuchi will be pleased. I was thinking about this, and her comment emboldened me. (on a side note, I love "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart". His little dialogue with John Oliver around the word "embolden" and other words created for political purposes was hilarious!)

This chapter was getting too long and I decided to stop. Please don’t be too mad at me! I am going to write the action. However, I could use some help. I have no experience of discipline/submission relationships and I would be grateful if someone who does could get in touch with me to give me a few helpful hints. I always read about D/s relationships that are either established or the s is very compliant. If anyone has some pointers for me when they finish reading this instalment, I'd be very grateful. Just comment on some other entry in my journal. Well, there's only one public entry so far :)

An Unfair F

Part 2

He signed the divorce papers earlier that day. He let his wife have the house she talked him into buying, and the dog she never liked. He signed everything hoping that the piece of paper would mean more than the marriage certificate. Love, honour and obey. Sure! Marriages fail all the time, he'd have to be a prize idiot to mess up the divorce.

He was a prize idiot and he knew it. Why else would he be thinking about that girl? Even now when he stopped the car in front of his date's house. He'd been thinking about her for months. His marriage was beginning to crumble and all he could do was think about that girl. The girl who never looked at him, the one who always did her assignments and studied for the tests, and never ever flirted with him.

He could still remember that day. The beginning of his fall. She'd been on her hands and knees, with her cute little ass in the air for most of the class. How could anyone drop their pen so often?! He had to stay behind his desk and give them a pop quiz just so he didn't have to parade his hardon.

He got so turned on watching her write focused on the task at hand, licking her lips and sucking on the damn pen, that he nearly popped. He actually rubbed his cock through the fabric of his trousers like some pervert. When the ditzy blonde stayed back to tell him that she needed an A on that test, he broke. He locked the door and made her work for her A. He thought about the good little girl while he slammed his cock in the blonde's not exactly untouched pussy. He close his eyes imagining his dream girl's long dark hair bouncing while he kept thrusting deeper and faster.

He could also remember the emptiness and the panic after the fact. What the fuck had he done? His marriage was over, now he was ruining his career, too? Idiot! But from that moment, he hadn't stopped. Things went from bad to worse at home. Most girls in his classes got to earn their A's by the new form of extracurricular activity. He plundered the hungry pussies and willing mouths without any restraint. The one time he almost got caught, he ended up bending the young faculty member over her desk.

The loud music and the atmosphere were so far from his taste that only the image of the dingy apartment he had to call home for a while made him stay. He followed his blonde companion, glad that at least the volume of the music prevented him hear her prattling on about God knew what stupid things. He wasn't in favour of dancing with his casual dates. He saw dancing as sensual, intimate, something to be treasured and shared with someone important.

He went to the bar when the evening's blonde went to the bathroom. He froze as he approached. His dream girl was there. And she no longer looked like the wholesome girl next door. She was no longer the innocent mirror of the girls he used to fall for when he was younger. She was dressed up and made up and wearing stilettos so high it should have been anatomically impossible to walk in them.

He watched her face in the mirror above the bar. He resented her for displaying herself like that, when she was just his to undress behind tightly shut eyelids. He wanted to reprimand her, grab her by the shoulders and shake her till she cried and begged for forgiveness. The unusual impulses faded when he looked more carefully at her face. Behind the artistic make up he saw his little girl. She was sad. The impulse to go to her, put an arm around her shoulders and pull her to his chest was even stronger than the one he had had to chide her. He stepped closer. His hand froze in the air when he heard the words. She was speaking louder than he ever heard her, so that the bartender could hear her over the din.

"They were talking about it. They were saying how easy it is to get an A in Mr. Lawrence's class! And then they went on discussing how often they had to suck him off, and how good he was with his tongue and his hands, and how big his cock is. Can you believe that? I want him so much I'm shaking. I'm soaking through my damn jeans every time I'm in his class, and he goes giving my grades and he compromises himself touching those sluts when he could have..."

He stood frozen processing what he heard. He was rooted to the spot when she turned around. She ran into him full force reminding him of the football fields of his youth. He had kept the ball player's built, strength and reflexes. He caught her, his hands on her shoulders, his fingers digging harshly into her flesh. This was the first time they touched.

The night was full of first times. When she looked up at him, her expression changed from casual gratitude to anger in a heartbeat. No more sugar and spice in the girl. She scorched him to the core with that stare. He felt his soul catch fire. All the guilt he walled up for months, all of it exploded in his chest.

She ripped herself from his arms and walked away. He summoned the mask of the teacher.

"You don’t look well. Do you need a ride home, Miss..."

But she was gone.

He hadn't known what obsession was till that moment. He had foolishly believed that thinking about her while he fucked other girls was bad. He was in hell since that night.

"I want him so much I'm shaking"

"he goes giving my grades"

He kept hearing her words ringing in his head. Saw her face, all sadness and frustration as he's seen it in the mirror. Woke up the night before her midterm from dreaming of her accusing eyes, piercing his soul.

"he could have..."

He could have... her. He could have had her all along. None of the others. The ones that didn't matter. The surrogates.

He got out of bed, walked barefoot to the window, thinking how the hell things went so astray. He wanted her, she wanted him, how come he never picked up on that? He wasn't blind. He wasn't above fucking his students, as it turned out.

In the corner of his mind, he knew the reason. He knew it because he was aware what he was. He never tried to get her, because she wouldn't give in. In all the students in his class, she was the one who'd say no. He knew this girl, knew her mind and her strength. He knew her and wanted her because of it. All his subterfuges had failed. He wanted her. Now he knew there was a chance. He made up his mind. He wanted her, he was going to have her. He was going to hell in a hand basket anyway.

Why wouldn't it work? It worked with all the others. How did he know it wasn't going to work with her? He tried to stifle the words. Who make the best profilers? Who are the ones who know from a glance which little girl would come away quietly and which one would scream and kick and scratch?

All through the day, he tried to put an end to the thought. He threw all his tattered principles to the immoral decision. Useless. He was too far down the slippery slope to be able to stop.

He watched her walk in his classroom. Watched her write her paper. She looked more confident than ever before. He missed the sight of her diving under the desk to retrieve her pen. Missed the way her lips would wrap around the lucky pen when she was thinking.

It was the hundredth time he had walked past her desk and she hadn't even flinched. He couldn't stand it any longer. He stopped, towering over her, pretending he was looking at her paper while trying to keep his hand from resting on her neck, at the nape her head. She was a good girl. He couldn't do this. He was a hair's breadth from salvation when she dropped her pen. He was on his knee before he knew it.

Their gazes met when she took the pen from his hand. He was lost. She still wanted him.

"Thank you, Sir."

So perfect. Everything he'd ever wanted without knowing. The role playing with his wife hadn't worked. Maybe because she wasn't into it, maybe because their love was already cold ashes. This worked. The simple voice, the undisguised respect. He knew that in that moment, she had forgotten about all the fucks for grade, maybe even forgotten about her own crush. In that moment, he was her favourite professor, who taught well her favourite subject.

He walked to the desk and made an effort not to slump into his chair. He knew she loved history. Her work was always good, her tests always perfect, her questions always to the point.

Did that stop him? Made him want to redeem himself? His recent behaviour?

No. It made him want her even more. All of her. Her body and her respect. Her everything.

It almost hurt physically to write the F on her paper. He'd read it a few times. Apart from the handwriting, it was damn near perfect.

He gambled. He submitted her A to the Office of the University Registrar, and sent her the paper graded F.

He was waiting for her in his office. After that night in the club, he thought he had a pretty good idea of what she was like when she was angry. He was wrong. She came in like a storm. Her eyes were sparkling, her breast was heaving, her lips were swollen, probably from biting them, and her cheeks were the most delicious shade of pink. The thought came in his mind unbidden – could he get her ass cheeks to match the colour if he put her over his knee and spanked her?

"Close the door behind you, miss," he managed to say.

For all the effort it took, his voice was remarkably steady.

"You gave me an F. How could you give me an F. My paper is freaking perfect!"

"Language, miss," he said sitting down.

"Do you want me to grade your paper again?"

"YES!"

"My time is valuable. You’re going to have to convince me."

That was it. Bend or break. He watched her flounder. She was in the same hell he was in last night. Want her, shouldn't touch her.

"I... I... I..."

Her voice, always calm and controlled, failed her. This girl probably never stuttered in her life.

It was tearing him apart. The fierce lust was there, strong as ever, but there was also the little twinge of remorse. He shouldn't take advantage... Fuck remorse. Fuck conscience. He needed her. He had to make her admit she needed him to

"This is unfair," she said.

Her voice sounded a tad whiney. She must have heard it, too, because she straightened up.

"I deserve an A. I'm not going to pay for one. No matter how much... how much I need it."

He heard the longing in her voice. Felt in that hesitation how much it cost her to refuse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued... (soon)

Please, don't hate me!

Fiction: "An Unfair F"

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 23:58:25 GMT

An Unfair F

This isn't my scene. I'm in a night club, wearing stuff I don't own - because I'm a good girl and I don’t buy clothes like these - I had to borrow them from my friends They were so shocked and happy that I'm going out they gave me more than I asked. They dolled me up, and helped me make up so I don't look... like I normally do. Bookwormy I think was the term they used. So, I'm sitting at the bar, drinking stuff I'm not used to, and bitching continuously. To the bartender, because after the first hour my friends remained time on the dance floor.

"He's fucking them for grades! He's actually giving them the grades I work for and the sex I dream of! No fair!"

The bar guy gives me the refill I asked, and I swivel on my chair to catch the eye of one of my friends that I wanna go back. Could this night get any worse? Professor Lawrence, the reason for my present distress, just walked into view. With a blonde hanging on to him. Un-fucking-fair! I turn around, refusing to look for him in the mirror above the bar.

He looks so much like my older brother, it's scary! That was the first shock I got when he came in the auditorium. The first and the mildest because when he started talking I started melting. The notes I took that day looked like I had some kind of seizure. The paper was filled with illegible scribbles. My hands shake so much during his classes that sometimes I have to put them under my legs to make it stop. I wish I can turn invisible for a while just so he doesn't see me like some kindergarten brat who's been made to sit on her hands.

The classes are always such a trial! The way he moves, his voice, his eyes – when I dare to look at them – everything about him is doing things to me that my boyfriend can't do with hands or tongue or dick. I had to break up with him when I realized that a class with Professor Lawrence is more satisfying than the best sex I ever had. My panties get soaked, and I lost count of the number of times I dropped my pen and had to crawl under the desk for it.

The midterm's approaching, and I have no idea how the hell I'm going to pass. I mean, damn, history used to be my best subject and now I have to work my ass off for a test because every time I read the words I hear his voice, and I grow wet and flustered. I can't be the only one to want him so badly, but I was the only one who seemed to be struggling with his class. Even those vacuous sluts who miss half his classes get A's. It was a mystery to me till this afternoon when I heard them in the bathroom.

Me. He could have me.

No. He could have had me. But I'll be damned if I keep dreaming about this man-whore, this pathetic man who needs to promise favours, to sell his integrity, just to get a trashy piece of ass. So, I'm a bitch now, but I'm hurt. Maybe they're not all sluts, but they don't want him the way I do.

My cheeks are burning when I remember what those girls were saying. I stayed in my stall and listened to them describing how they got on their knees for their A's, and how he ate their pusses, and fucked them, and made them come back for more.

I can't be here any longer. I pay for my drinks and I gesture to my friends over the loud music to let them know I'm leaving. Then I take a couple of small steps toward the exit with my eyes to the floor. It's not just that I'm unsteady on my feet, as much as I don't want to catch another glimpse of him. I was so careful not to make a wrong step in my borrowed stilettos that at the second step I smash into a solid body. The guy grabs me by the shoulders steadying me and I look up to say thanks, but my words die on my lips. It fucking figures! Professor Lawrence! I pull away from his grasp barely restraining a "fuck off".

"You don’t look well. Do you need a ride home, Miss..."

His voice fades behind me, but I don't stop as I'm running toward the exit. My eyes are swimming with tears of anger and longing. I remember the words of the damn song "his car is warm and dry". God damn how could I be attracted by someone like him?! He's such a... a... jerk.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Two days later my head still hurts from the first hangover of my life. It's the first time when the sight of Professor Lawrence doesn't make my stomach flutter because the nausea was already there. If it's the exam or the throwing up from drinking, I don’t know. All I know is that I manage to write my paper without the usual torment of undressing him in my head, without imagining those hands running over my breasts, holding on to my hips.

He's walking around while we write, but not even that breaks through my anger and disappointment. When he stops next to my desk, I have a lapse. His cock is at the level of my mouth and the pen slips from my fingers at this thought. I bend to pick it up, but he's faster. He's down on one knee next to me, and the bitterness vanishes, and I want him again. So badly it hurts. The longing sweeps through me like a tide. There's one thing left standing inside me. The "I shouldn't do this". It's wrong. I shouldn't want this, shouldn't want him.

"Thank you, Sir," I say taking my pen.

I'm shaking like an idiot, but I can't afford to sit on my hands to calm down. This exam is important. My scholarship depends on getting an A here, my future depends on my scholarship. I am not going to throw it all away for a guy who fucks brain-dead sluts. The anger's coming back. My head's clearing. When the time is out, I feel triumphant. I have never been so confident about getting an A. So much so, I dare to look him in the eye and smile like I just won the Olympic gold in gymnastics.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

F! F???? I got an F?!?!?!

I'm staring at my paper in disbelief. He gave me an F? But this paper is damn perfect! So, my handwriting got a bit shaky at some point, but I saw his sluts parading their B grades and bouncing their C chests as they were jumping up and down.

Son of a bitch! How dare he?!

I'm fuming all the way to his office.

"You gave me an F!"

He's looking at me for the first time, I mean straight at me, not the casual way he looks at all his students in class.

"Close the door behind you, miss."

My stomach clenches almost painfully. I'd like to think it's just the anger I feel for the unfairness of it all. I'm pretty sure it's not. His voice alone could do things me that I never imagined possible, but this time he used a tone that made sure I understand he's talking to me and he's going to be obeyed. Or else.

I close the door, and I turn to him again. I feel fire coming out of me, cheeks burning, eyes throwing daggers. I'm ignoring the way my pussy seems to be on fire as well. He's not getting the satisfaction of seeing me shake. I won't be intimidated.

"You gave me an F," I say, a shade calmer this time. "How could you give me an F. My paper is freaking perfect!" I exclaim, thrusting the paper to him.

"Language, miss," he says sitting down.

He still hasn't taken my paper so I slam it on the desk in front of him. He grips my wrist and pins my hand to the desktop.

"Do you want me to grade your paper again?"

"YES!"

His eyes flicker from my eyes to my breasts. It's just for a split second, but I feel the heat rising in me.

"My time is valuable. You’re going to have to convince me."

His thumb caresses my palm delicately. I gasp when I realise what he means. He wants me to... And I sure as hell want to. But I deserve the A.

"I... I... I..."

I'm shaking. I'm burning. I want.

I can't look in his eyes anymore. This isn't happening.

~~~~~~

To be continued...

Wondering about the past, looking, for a future

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 15:41:33 GMT

I'm a good girl. I'll always be a good girl. Some time ago I lost my way, and now I'm wandering in the wilderness. Not that it shows much on the outside. My exterior varies from sporty and casual to cool elegance. I never break down, I never cry in public. Public meaning at least one person around. I rarely break down or cry even when I'm on my own.

Being single isn't the worst thing in the world. I am so used and so comfortable living alone that the very idea of a living together level relationship is unpleasant. But I'm a good girl, and although all I want is to get laid once in a while, I never do that. It's not proper. What if people find out? I don't normally care what other people think, but when it comes to sex... well, I'm a good girl. Doesn't matter how much porn I watch, how often I make myself come or what I'm thinking about when I slide my fingers softly over my clit. The touches are always soft, even when the fantasies grow dark.

Last year I thought for the first time that I might be submissive. My sex life, the real one, has been almost strictly vanilla, but my fantasies usually have the guy pretty much dominant. I looked around the place (read internet) and realized that I was probably wrong. I can't see myself in a slave's shoes, though I certainly can't see myself as a Domme. I suppose I could be the sub in such a relationship, but I'd have to trust and respect the other person. That's a foregone conclusion, I suppose. My problem is that I can't imagine anyone who would do this for me. I'm pretty and smart and sexually open minded, but it’s so damn difficult to let go. I like the idea of passion, breaking taboos turn me on, I'd like to experiment a lot of things, and yet, in real life, I used to do everything in my power to keep sex casual and natural. Never any awkwardness, never any rules broken, nothing the least bit wrong.

This is the place where I'll try to see if there is more to me than meets the eye. Maybe I'm just a writer after all. Maybe sex will always be sex – if I ever have sex again. Damn this was a long dry spell. Thank you Lords of Porn for helping me through this desert – and fantasies will remain in my head, or, best case scenario, in the books I want to write.