The Lady Smut Book of Dark Desires (An Anthology) Read online

  "I reserve the right to change my mind at any time." And kick your ass out. By a huge force of will, she pulled herself off him. "Coffee?"

  "Coffee is good. Great. I can always sleep at the bus station if it gets down to it."

  Ten minutes later he was pulling the cup away from him and frowning at it.

  "This is horrible coffee."

  "You're just a snob," she said.

  "There's a reason I accepted a job in Seattle—well, near Seattle." But he took another polite sip.

  He was sitting on the couch. He looked good sitting on the end of her couch. She realized how tired she was suddenly. With his arrival all complex thoughts were just beyond her reach.

  "I can't stand this," he said and got up. She thought he meant he was leaving and leapt up as well. Instead he strode into the kitchen, him and his fine ass, and poured the coffee out into the sink.

  "You got anything else to drink? Beer?"

  Her body was cooking. Her stomach was making funny noises. He was ignoring them, he must be. She felt fevered."No. I’m not supposed to drink at all.”

  “At all?” He asked.

  “Well, it can exacerbate the sleepwalking.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  Chapter 8

  "Are you worried?" he asked.

  "About you being here?"

  "About what's been going on." He motioned to his phone.

  "You don't have any copies of that photo on there, do you?"

  "Of that picture? No!" He got out his phone. "Here." He tossed it to her. "Do what you like with whatever you find in there."

  "Okay, okay, don't sound so outraged, Mr. Sex tape."

  "I didn't save any pictures of you."

  "Thank you."

  "Is this thing…are you isolating yourself a lot?" He looked over at the computer lock.

  She followed his gaze, wanting to laugh her head off. "I'm trying to stay safe. I'm trying to lock her in."

  "But you need to get out and see people, don't you?"

  The fog was building up outside. Living in SF was like living in London sometimes. She took comfort from the billowing clouds that settled on the streets outside. She felt hidden, anonymous.

  "What are you doing here?" she said.

  "You, ah, I mean, Jennifer asked me to come," he repeated.

  "How bad was it?" she asked.

  He pulled up the text messages and showed her.

  "Wow." She studied the messages. Are you cumming? "You really think I would spell it that way?"

  "Wishful thinking?" he said.

  Then catching the look on her face he said "Okay, that was too much. Too soon."

  She was shaking her head.

  "Did you get my letter?" he asked her.

  "What letter?" Her hands—she didn't know what to do with them. This was why people had cats. Though a cat would probably spring out of her hands because they were icy cold.

  "I left a letter in your room. That night… well, that morning."

  "No, I didn't get it," she said softly. "What was in it?"

  The letter was to reassure her that he put the fear of God into Harrison to never breathe a word to anyone about the sex tape.

  "I didn't think he would talk," she said. "I thought he— or you— would post this on the internet."

  "God no," Turner swore. "Here," he said, digging into a small zipper pocket in his backpack, fishing out a DVD in a blue jewel case. "Here it is, and it's the only copy, I swear."

  She knew this was wrong. So wrong. She took the DVD from him.

  "Did you edit this on Harrison's computer?"

  "No. On mine. It's not edited, it's just saved. And I erased it from my computer."

  "There are ways, I've heard, you can recover what was on a camcorder, even if—"

  "I didn't give him the camcorder back. I gave him money to buy a new one instead."

  "So what did you do with the camcorder?"

  "I busted it up. Threw the parts away. He wasn't there when we did anything. When Jennifer and I…he just let me borrow his camera and showed me how to use it. She – you – actually plucked it from his hands that night."

  He stood up and walked around the room. Her eyes tracked his body and her stomach was setting up a different kind of yowl, no longer remotely hungry.

  "He was just playing around with it, making a video for his friends from college."

  "You don't have to plead his case."

  "I'm not, I just want you to know what happened. Then—Jennifer walked in, and took it from him. She walked into my room and plunked it on the dresser, setting it up. You…she was pushing all the buttons trying to make it go. I didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what she wanted."

  "You didn't tell me, and you didn't give this up until now," she tapped the DVD case. "So why are you trying to act like the good guy here all of a sudden? What changed?"

  "I was sitting there with you finally talking about what happened…I wanted to take things very slowly. I guessed you'd be upset, given what you're like."

  "I'd be upset?" She couldn't stop the tone in her voice from escalating. "Given what I'm like?" From zero to sixty the anger came flashing out of her.

  "Yes. You're a good girl." It almost sounded like an insult.

  She frowned. "I'm not Jennifer. And I'm not ashamed of it." Her guts were turning back flips, but she wasn't ashamed.

  "I know that," he said. She couldn't look at him. She found herself twisting up the cuff of her pj bottoms and forced herself to stop it. He sat down again on the couch facing her, hands on his knees.

  "But I didn't know where you were. And I'm not a stalker. Then I guess Jennifer found me and sent me—that. So I came here to check on you and see if you're holding your own. That relieves my mind. But you've got the DVD, you've seen everything is off my phone and nothing's popped up on the internet. So look, I don't have anywhere else to stay. I'll just go to sleep here on the couch and head out in the morning back to Seattle."

  She almost decided to let her bad girl out for once.

  "Will you," she began.

  "Will I what?" The luminous heat was in his eyes in a flash.

  Scared, she backed down.

  "Nothing. Let me get you a pillow and a blanket."

  "I'm sorry about this mix up," he said as she walked to her bedroom.

  Deliberating, she turned back before she had a chance to make up her mind.

  "I'm glad you're here. You believe me—that it's not all in my head."

  "It's not all in your head. Well, it is your head, it's just there's someone else in there with you."

  "Watch over me." She rocked back and forth on her feet holding a blanket. She looked up, down, anywhere but at him.

  "What?"

  "Will you watch over me? While I'm sleeping."

  "I…thought you wanted me out here on the couch. You didn't trust me."

  "How can I worry about not trusting you, when I know I can't trust myself?"

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Don't let me out of the apartment." She couldn't help whispering. "Or let Jennifer set the place on fire." He was going to think she was just looney.

  "I won't."

  "Don't let me do anything I shouldn't."

  "You can trust me."

  She gave him a hug. He felt so good. Smelled good too. Probably used scented deodorant, but travel had worn that off. What was left behind was something not bitter or pungent to her nose. A smell that was human, and slightly tangy. She controlled herself from burying her face in his armpit and smelling more. "You smell good," she found herself saying. "Like chicken soup." She could tell he was smiling.

  "Thank you."

  She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

  He was frozen in place, as if afraid to move.

  Then his hands slid away from her body. She could tell he had his hopes up. Or, not that, but that his body was on the alert every bit as much as hers was. She went into the bedroom, and looked back. He was peering
after her.

  "You want me…out here?"

  She nodded. "Leave the light on." Then she lay down in bed.

  She put the pillow over her face and groaned. She'd told him he smelled like chicken soup.

  "Jenny? Are you okay?" he called out from the other room.

  "I'm fine," she called.

  The next morning she woke up…and found herself tied up. This was not a new sensation. She turned her head. His face was right on the other side of her arm, asleep. Such a straight nose. He looked a little more determined asleep than he did awake. Not so much Grecian soldier, more Grecian general.

  That whole how do you handle an awkward hook up? She was so over that. She gave him a poke with her knee and his eyes opened.

  "Good morning," he said.

  "Good morning." Let them say what they want to say, echo it back at them, and then follow right up with ask them to untie you. People are expecting you at Sunday school, and you're already late.

  "Let me explain," he said, though he was blinking like someone trying to start their brain when it was stalling.

  She tried to aim for a neutral tone, a matter of fact, yet friendly command.

  "Where did these come from?" she asked calmly wiggling her fingers. They were cushioned restraining straps—and not bad. Natural leather on the outside, pink terrycloth on the inside. The pink was a nice reassuring touch.

  "I brought them."

  Don't think about what else he brought in the large duffle bag. She was naked except for her undies. She swallowed.

  "Must have been fun going through the airport." The thing was, her calm confident act only lasted so long. Right now she was burning to the end of her limits. She was going to start screaming in ten, nine, eight…

  "Oh, it was."

  "So. Can you…untie me?" She didn't say please, it'd just reinforce her subordinate position—which for some folks signaled that she was ready for round two.

  Seven, six…He sat up on the bed, still dressed in jeans and the waffle shirt, and rubbed his eyes.

  The trick is that you're not really asking, she reminded herself. She didn't care really, just another walk in the park and now that was over, she had things to do.

  He started to untie her left hand.

  "So you had a busy night," he said. Three, two…

  "Thanks," she sat up, pulling her wrist free. "I can get the rest myself."

  "Oh. Okay." He got up from the bed. That hair. It was mashed into a standing position on the left side of his head. Like a cartoon character hit with a shovel.

  "I'm getting the sense that this is not your first time at the rodeo," he said.

  "True." She started untying her feet. Three straps, and her fingers weren't totally steady. "Sometimes they don't want to let me go, but saying I teach Sunday school usually does the trick. It gets them laughing as they remember the night before."

  His smile was a total apology.

  "What's up with the tattoo?" he pointed. She pulled her arm across her chest, trying to see what he was talking about. Across her left arm was a red heart with a skull in it, a dagger through the skull. It said Brett in cursive across the bottom. Her first kill.

  "That's Jennifer's idea of a joke," she told him and went back to the straps.

  "No…seriously?"

  He ran his thumb across it. His fingers felt warm, sensuous, causing a prickle in her breasts that was noticeable. She moved suddenly away from him on the bed. She twisted over to work on the other foot. It was easier to talk if she wasn't looking at him. She used the same busy, practical tone as her fingers fumbled about.

  "So you did Jennifer last night. Hope you had fun." Hope you die.

  "No! I told you, you can trust me."

  "Look it's okay." It was not okay. It was so not okay. "Can you get me a robe out of the closet? And you don't have to lie." Unless he was such a habitual liar he couldn't help it.

  "I didn't," he insisted, throwing the robe on the bed. "And she was…" His eyes opened wider at the memory. "Not happy about it."

  She believed him. It felt like she could take a full breath for the first time in forever. He was looking at her, frowning, trying by sheer force of will to get her to believe him and now that she was looking at him full on, he still had the faint pink imprint of a hand on the left side of his face.

  "Come here," she said. He bent down to her. She stroked his cheek with her hand. He needed to shave. "Sorry."

  His face close to hers, she thought about how that rough, prickly beard would take the skin right off a girl's chin… if they were making out like mad.

  "Not your fault."

  She pulled the robe up over herself and let him finish undoing her feet.

  "Thank you."

  He was rubbing her ankles. It felt good.

  "My pleasure." His thumbs—those were talented thumbs. She refrained from rubbing her legs together.

  She hopped off the bed and tied the robe tightly. Moving away, she headed to the kitchen. "So what did happen then?"

  "Not much," he said, following her. "Jennifer got up, Jennifer got naked, and when I wouldn't go along with it, Jennifer got pissed. Then she wanted out, and started climbing out the window. We tussled."

  She looked around the living room. The lamp was still on, but the shade was dented and the rest of the room was trashed.

  "Sorry about the mess in the living room by the way," he said behind her shoulder. They started straightening things up together.

  "And then we went another few rounds, while I managed to keep my dick out of her—you, I mean, and finally put her down for the night." He gestured with his arms to the bedroom. She saw the flash of some wicked nail marks through a tear in his shirt on his right arm.

  "Oooh," she said, peering through the hole to look at them. The cuts were going to scar. "Yeah, she doesn't fight fair."

  "Poor guy." She had to let go of his arm, had to step away, walk away. She just wanted to rub herself all over him. Did the mean nasty Jennifer hurt you? Come here, let me kiss it and make it better.

  "So who lets us out?" he said.

  She showed him the system. There was a new puzzle card in the door. She showed him how to solve the puzzle so you got a three number code.

  "Memorize it," she said.

  "Easy." The code went away.

  "It's supposed to be easy." A minute later the computer screen asked for the code. He plugged in the correct three numbers and they heard the magnetic lock released with an audible click. The door opened.

  "And Jennifer doesn't know the code?" he asked.

  She explained the code was always different.

  Knowing Jennifer could read and type was alarming. But she was still safe. The puzzles required just a little more. Not much more, but a little learning and some memory stopped her partially sleeping brain in its tracks.

  "Nice," he said. "But you should really nail the windows shut too. I'll do that for you today, if you've got a hammer and some nails."

  Who was this guy?

  "I'm taking you out to brunch right?" he asked.

  "Sure. Let me get dressed."

  When they left the apartment he took her hand. The smallest gesture, but it set off a wave of feeling up and down her entire body.

  "What if there's an emergency and you need to leave the apartment quickly?"

  "I thought about that. I could rig the computer system to the fire alarm so if the alarm went off the door would open automatically."

  "Sounds like a good plan. Why haven't you done it yet?"

  "Because I think Jennifer would set the place on fire to get out." He stopped, holding her hand tightly. Then they kept walking. Her face was flushing. He got it, he really got it.

  Over brunch she proposed they just spend the day together and not talk about Jennifer at all. He agreed without the slightest hesitation, and the day seemed to pass in a blink. She showed him her school, her classroom, the photos of the girls on a trip to Seal Beach.

  "I never thought middl
e school could look so peaceful," he said, staring at the photos.

  "They're happy," she said, stroking the pictures of the girls with big grins, skinny arms tight around each other's necks.

  They brought a pizza back to the apartment. She wasn't hungry, but Turner was huge, so she needed to feed him something.

  "I have to explain something," he said. He stood up and was pacing back and forth in front of the couch. "Sometimes a guy's brain…okay, it's a lot like what you said. About waking up next to someone and thinking 'I can't believe this guy got with Jennifer'. And he looks as surprised as you are. I mean, it's like when you stumble onto porn on the internet. Okay, suddenly you're looking at porn. You didn't set out to, but now that it's happening you're going with it. That's how it was with me and Jennifer. I didn't set out to, but it happened and I got lost in the woods."

  She tried to say something but he put his arm out. "Wait, wait just a sec. So that video… The honest truth is, it's so hot, I couldn't let it go. Even though another part of my brain was kicking me, but—"

  "Don't explain, it's fine," she said, wrapping her arms around her knees.

  "No, I need to. It was just sex with Jennifer—but not with you. If you watched the video you'd know that what I had with Jennifer, and when I'm with you–you'd see that they're two completely different things."

  "It's fine," she said. "I've seen Jennifer on video."

  "You have?" he said, then remembered. "Oh, that sleep researcher."

  "Nadia."

  "Nadia, she had a camera too, didn't she?"

  She nodded.

  He thought she knew what she was doing. Reading these cases of sexsomnia she knew that even husbands and wives who knew their spouses were often fooled during episodes and assumed the other person was awake.

  He listened to her, he believed her, he wasn't trying anything. He had the claw marks to prove it.

  He narrowed his eyes. "I'd still like you to watch the video."

  Her heart lumped up in her chest. "Why? Because you want to enlighten me, Turner, or because you want to seduce me?"

  He looked over her hair, her face, and his hands slid up her arms. "Because I want to seduce you."