loved the style so much she adopted it as her own.
Candy had grown so used to wrapping herself, as her father once put it, that she never gave it much thought. Throw on a T-shirt, some chunky jewelry and she was good to go.
As the director of a girls’ recreation center, thankfully, formality in dress wasn’t a job requirement, or she’d be in trouble.
Growing up with a free-spirited parent, one who drifted from job to job, toting his small family with him, Candy had never given fancy clothes or designer labels much in the way of consideration.
Often as a child, she’d had little more than the clothes on her back and a few other garments stowed in her knapsack when they moved on to the next job, the next town…the next opportunity.
Today she opted to wear her luxury for the month: a new pair of jeans. She removed the jeans from the shelf in the closet and with near reverence ran a caressing hand over the material.
She rarely bought anything new and when she did, it generated a feeling of guilty pleasure. But this time she ignored the guilt and focused on the thrill of the purchase.
She grew tired of her self-inflicted guilt whenever she would buy some new thing or other, but old habits died hard.
She carefully removed the price tag from the waistband of the jeans, not wanting to rip a hole in the soft material. She set the jeans aside and reached back in the closet to withdraw one of her favorite T-shirts and donned it.
Before she eased the jeans up her legs and fastened the buttons on the low-riding waist, she tried to place the ends of the shirt inside but the ends didn’t quite make it and the gemstone in her belly ring showed.
She caught enough grief about her lack of conventionality without showing off one of her piercings, so she reluctantly removed the shirt and reached for another.
After putting on the second shirt, she nodded her head in self-approval. This one, although only fractionally longer, would do. It should stay in place, at least enough to cover her ring.
A loud purr and strong push against her legs made her look down. Russell was twining his large body around her legs.
“Are you hungry, big boy? Okay, okay, let Mama get her shoes and we can get us both something to eat, all right?” she both promised and asked.
She rooted around the closet for her Birkenstocks. Once she located them, at the back of her closet, she slid the comfortable shoes on her feet.
She turned and hefted the loudly purring cat into her arms and left the bedroom.
“And maybe you can convince Mama all she needs is a good man, a real man, and all her nocturnal longings will be a thing of the past. Hmm? What do you think, boy?”
The only answer the cat gave was to leap agilely from her arms, despite his massive size, and land gracefully at her feet. He quickly walked ahead of her toward the kitchen and breakfast, mewing so loudly he sounded more like a lion than a domesticated cat.
“Men are all the same. One thing on their mind, and unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be me. Dang it,” she muttered to the empty room at large, before, with a self-pitying sigh, she followed the cat into the kitchen.
2
“Are you going to let me do it this time?”
He waited with his breath held, waiting to see if she’d find his desires kinky and tell him to go straight to hell.
She didn’t say anything, only looked at him from the corners of her big brown eyes, and he knew better than to rush her. The last time he had, she’d done exactly what he was afraid she’d do this time. She’d told him to go straight to hell. It was all a part of the game.
“Do you think you’re ready for that, Davis? Are you ready for me?” she asked from behind the large desk, across the room from him.
He stood and slowly walked over to her and looked down at himself as he did so. Judging from the raging hard-on he had, he’d say that was a definite yes. He took the base of his penis in one hand and stroked down to the end of its his bulbous, cum-filled tip and lifted his eyes to watch her as he did so.
The quick breath she inhaled, coupled with the swipe of her tongue against her lush bottom lip, showed Davis that she liked what she saw and was ready for him.
She sat behind her desk, wearing one of those wraps of fabric she loved to wear, one leg planted on the floor, the other over the arm of the chair, swinging back and forth, pendulum style.
As he stood within a foot of her, he was surprised to see her skirt was much shorter than what she normally wore. It was so short in fact, he could see the dark, tight, curly thatch of hair surrounding her glistening pussy as it played peek-a-boo with every swing of her leg.
She loved to tease him. Loved to see how far he’d allow her to take it, before he lost it and demanded she give him what was his. He knew it, but played the game anyway.
She was ready.
Davis could tell from the way her small breasts heaved, the look in her pretty brown eyes…and the glistening of cream easing down the inside of her smooth brown thigh. He bent his head, leaned in and inhaled.
Damn.
The scent of her pussy was a pungent combination of hot chocolate and peppermint. Heady and sweet, just like her. He reluctantly lifted his head.
“You’re always ready for me,” she purred. “Physically.”
When she amended her statement, he felt the first stirrings of unease.
The uneasiness turned into a more demanding churning in his gut with her rebuttal.
“But what about Gail?”
“Damn it! She has nothing to do with this. With us! This is between you and me, and my wife has nothing to do with it!” He pressed her unresisting body down onto the desk.
With a determination born out of frustrated desire, he pulled her short skirt higher. Grabbing the backs of her thighs, Davis lifted them over his arms. He leaned into her mound and stroked her, deeply, with his tongue.
In satisfaction he watched as she nearly bucked him off her small body with the first touch of his mouth against her silken folds.
“Oh god, Davis…what are you doing to me?” she panted.
“It’s not what I’m doing to you, but what I have planned to do to you, that you have to worry about. What we both have to be worried about,” he promised grimly and leaned back in, prepared to give her what she’d been wanting, what he’d been craving, for nine long months.
Ringgg. Ringgg.
Davis was jerked awake when the jarring sound of his BlackBerry rang. He wanted to roar in anger and frustration with the interruption. Fuck! Even though it had been a dream, he’d been so damn close he could smell her distinct scent in the aftermath of the dream.
He reached over and picked the cell phone up from the nightstand and stabbed the talk button viciously.
