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Sex and the Stranger 2
A Mischief Erotica Collection
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
This collection is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Mischief
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
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An eBook Original 2016
1
In the Wild © Rose de Fer
California Dreaming © Senta Holland
Once upon a Pool Deck © Kathleen Tudor
Reflections © Ludivine Bonneur
In with the New © Justine Elyot
Clarence © Tabitha Rayne
Dance Partners © Heather Towne
Going on Thirty © Giselle Renarde
Stranger, Come Closer to Me © Olivia London
The authors assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work.
Picture credit: Shutterstock
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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EBook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780008190170
Version 2016-03-29
Table of Contents
Rose de Fer
The zebra inched forward, nibbling lazily at the grass and flicking its short tail. From time to time it shook its head to banish flies, flicking its bristle-brush of a mane back and forth. The rest of the herd was scattered across the grass, their heads down as they focused on their sole occupation – eating.
Nancy sat back in the grass and raised her knees, using them like a tripod to steady the camera. She twisted the ring of the lens, zooming in on the nearest zebra’s face. His eyes were huge and dark, ringed with black markings like goth eyeliner. She pressed the shutter several times, getting closeups of the limpid chocolatey eyes, the black nose and mouth, the large square teeth.
Then she zoomed out slightly to reveal the animal’s whole head. She loved the way he flicked his ears and twitched his mane. The eyes might be goth, but the hair was full-on 80s punk – a stripy Mohican that seemed a little at odds with the animal’s placid demeanour. What a crazy designer Mother Nature was, painting lavish black stripes on a white horse. Or were they white stripes on a black horse?
The zebra’s mouth never seemed to stop. He munched tirelessly, cutting a path through the grass. Nancy wondered if English grass tasted different to him than the grass where he was originally from. For that matter, what did he make of the weather here? It was a balmy summer day, pleasant enough for the UK, but it was likely many degrees cooler than Africa at this time of year.
As if in response to her thought, the zebra lifted his head and gave a loud snort. He looked around for a few moments, gifting Nancy with some great shots before dipping his head again and returning to his meal.
She checked the camera’s digital display, happy to see that she had plenty of room left on the memory card. She’d already taken hundreds of photos of the herd and various individuals, but this one had proved the most photogenic. It was so peaceful sitting here
