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oh well, 5 is my lucky number anyway

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Dear Adam

Publishers treat you differently when you’re third novel hits the best seller list, and you can believe I was milking it for all it was worth. Let me tell you about my visit to Toronto last weekend. Four days there, two for the normal signing and media events, then two days off before flying on to Vancouver. I thought I was going to have some sightseeing time. What I found was so much better.

It was Friday afternoon and another interminable book signings at another chain-store. She near the front of the line, so I know she must’ve been waiting a while. You and I have talked about those certain fans who are nearly salivating for personal attention. I suppose this is true for any writer who’s achieved some popularity, but for writers of erotica... Let’s just say the moisture has a different source.

I recognized her immediately from the Nubie Nudes website, though I didn’t let on. I noticed the aroma of her excitement from across the table while I was signing her book. I asked her if she had some time available to “be available” and her knees nearly buckled. I stood and took her hand to guide her around the table and I could feel her hand shaking. You know how little time there is to make small talk while signing books, but I gathered that she had created some pretense to escape from her husband. She had read all my books and most of my stories. That was her release from a good if somewhat boring marriage. Her ‘obligations’ would not allow her to realize her fantasies. I had made sure she was sitting on my left so that my right hand was free to sign books and my left was free to wander. She said she was staying at some cheap super-econo-6 somewhere. That’s when I suggested that she stay with me. I had such a large comfortable room all alone.

She was wearing a pleated skirt, cut just above the knee, and a plain white shirt, and white stockings. It was the school girl outfit and it was clearly worn to please me. She sat forward in her chair and helped open then books and hold them while I signed, so that my left hand was free to, as I said, wander. Wander it did. I was stroking her legs and pinching her nipples behind the table as all those people walked by getting their books signed. Hundreds of people, for hours. We took a short break for lunch in the back room but we were not entirely alone there. I’d asked for sandwiches and soda for lunch and they’d sent a tray with several kinds of meat and cheese. I sat back on the couch in the manager’s office while Trix stood over the short coffee table and put together some snacks. The store manager was sitting at his desk a couple of meters away and he must have known I was fondling her, but she never stopped me. The odor of her arousal permeated the room. Her nipples were pressing so hard against her thin white shirt that I thought she was about to rip it. I know I wanted to. When she sat next to me with the food I told her I was getting some ‘special sauce’ to whet my appetite. She giggled at that and I thought I saw the manager turn away and pinch his lips so that he wouldn’t laugh too. I remember thinking he was very discreet. I didn’t know how discreet he was till we got up to leave and I reached back for my coat. He’d been watching me fondle her in the glass front of the bookcase the whole time. He grinned and blushed, I winked and smiled, and that’s when I got my idea.

Life imitates art? Art reflects life? Who cares, I was going to have some fun. The day capered by while I signed books and caressed the inner thigh of my inamorata. I slipped a note and a bill (American) to one of the booksellers to bring a sweet white wine in coffee cups for us. As you know, fans of erotica are often given to brazen displays of sexuality in public. Men in pants tight enough to show the outline of their cocks, either that or the butcher down the block was having a sale on sausage that day. Women with cleavage so low I could read the tag on their panties... It was fun to watch them parade by us like the Swinger’s Club float in Mardi Gras. Trix loved the attention. She’d never allowed herself to be that openly sexual. As we got into the second bottle of wine she started to banter and riposte with people as they passed through. She was quite capable at her retort. Some of her innuendo was worthy of you when you’re drunk or me when I’m writing. She began openly looking at those things that aroused her. Men and women, but mostly men.

In her reverie she didn’t notice that I was slipping notes to the people she looked at. A simple flyer for the hotel bar, with 8:00 written in the margin. The end of the line finally came and it was time for dinner. We went to the restaurant and read the menu. When we had made our choices I suggested we could eat in the bar, the light was so much more intimate there... Trix loved the idea and we were off to a corner table in the dark back corner. Appetizers, three courses of dinner, salad, dessert and coffee. Jamaican coffee, rum instead of whiskey. We had just settled back from our repast when the first of the book patrons started to appear. I quietly signaled them to find tables nearby and watch for a bit. Trix was becoming extremely aroused. She had been simmering at near boiling point all day long. I resumed my teasing caresses, becoming slowly more insistent and blatant about it. She not only allowed it, she encouraged it. I’d been careful to observe how she walked and reacted. You know how I feel about drunken decisions regretted at dawn. She was feeling a tingle that was not from the alcohol.

She sat next to me like a second side, fondling and groping me as much as I did her. Before long I had my fingers inside her. Her shirt was open enough for her nipples to tickle themselves on my silk shirt. She unzipped my fly and reached in and she decided that she had to have it, RIGHT NOW! As she turned and nestled her butt into my lap I noticed that several of our audience had their own hands in their pants, or in someone else’s. She lifted her leg and scooted onto my cock like she’d thought about this position many times. As I slid into her I was surprised at how warm and soft and sweet it felt. I told her I wanted to keep her, make her my sex-toy. In a “saffron voice” that would make The Kinks proud she said; “oohhhh yes, make me your slave.” So I did.

Trix hadn’t even really been aware that people were watching us until that moment. There she was, with my cock buried to the hairs in her in a public bar. I signaled the nearest man to come forward and he slid into the booth from her side. She had a bit of a frightened look for a moment so I whispered that she was my slave toy and this is what I wanted. Still she hesitated. I told her I would reveal her if she didn’t do everything I said. She hadn’t moved off of me during this and I could feel her muscles twitching in excitement. Yet she still had a trapped look on her face. The other man was fondling her breasts now. She reached out to stroke his cock and looked at her own hand doing it like it was someone else’s. The rest of our fan club had gathered around the table and effectively made a screen for us to play at our full desire. I pushed her over toward him while I gyrated my hips behind her. In a moment she had his cock in her mouth. We seemed frozen in tableau for half an hour. Each of our fans stroking themselves and each other while this man had head and I got puss. I didn’t even know his name. After thirty minutes or so I said; “let’s all go up to my room.”

If I’d thought I’d smelled Trix’s wetness before I had no idea. The scent of her was intoxicating when she was surrounded by a dozen men and three or four women in the elevator. It was late enough that we had the elevator all to ourselves and everyone was groping and fondling my Trix-slave. Her eyes were having an argument with themselves. Don’t stop, stop please, do more... As we rode up Trix’s skirt seemed to ride up too. She kept her hand on my cock though. When we got to the room I decided that I wanted to see girl on girl action first. So I picked the petite redhead and told Trix to lay back and let her eat her fill. Red went after that pussy like some kind of animal. I love school girl outfits so I wouldn’t let Trix take off any of her clothes. All the others got naked immediately. Some of the men were stroking other men. Some were stroking themselves. The women were stroking both, whatever happened to be closest. Naturally we all gathered in a circle around the bed, I sat at the head next to her head so she could give me head. I raised her hands and placed them on some of the cocks that surrounded her, got other guys to rub themselves on her breasts and legs and feet. Trix started moaning and gasping for breath so I thought it was time to change up.

I picked out the largest cock and had him lay on his back, and made Trix ride him cowgirl style. Then I brought all the cocks and pussies closer again, with me standing behind her. She had no idea what I had planned. As she went back to stroking sucking and fucking I stepped away and got a bottle of lotion out of the bathroom. I slathered it all over myself and just as she was starting to quiver in orgasm I stabbed myself in her anus. She shot upright and started shaking like I’d stuck her with a cattle prod and she screamed. She kept screaming too; “Oh my god oh my god.” That got me there and I squirted in her ass longer than I ever remember cumming ever before. After that I sat back and watched as everyone got their O. One of the women would come over to suck me now and then, some of the guys wanted to too. You know that doesn’t offend me, I’m just not into it...

Trix got fucked sucked and bucked till almost four in the morning, I took a couple more turns at her too. Eventually all the fans drifted away into the night and Trix fell asleep still covered in their various juices. I cuddled up with her and fell asleep too. In the early afternoon we awoke to breakfast by room-service and mimosas on the balcony. Spa visits, masseuse, room-service... Trix and I ended up spending my entire budget for the book tour on that one delightful weekend in Toronto.

So now you see why I’ve cloistered myself to write another book so soon. I have to get another book tour so I can mount my Canadian.

It all started as an ordinary Friday night. I’d slashed and burned my way through corporate mergers that day and been to the gym. Now I was ready for a strong drink and some relaxation. I stopped in my favorite pub; Masters of the Universe, and settled back with a double Glenmorangie in a chilled glass, a Cuban and a copy of Atlas Shrugged.

I saw her walk in through the corner of my eye. So long and thin. Elegant like carved ivory. Moving like a ballerina she flashed her eyes and flipped her hair taking in every corner of and every person in the room in just a few short steps to the bar. She had to order twice, the bartender had to be waken from a pleasant dream. He moved woodenly as he mixed and poured her martini. No one else moved at all. Even the waitress was transfixed. She shrugged the ankle length fox coat off her shoulders and cast it over the bar seat like a spell, making it a royal pedestal. She turned to her drink as if she had dismissed us all to go about our petty affairs.

I must admit I was as captivated as any of the others by her arrival, but I’ve seen beautiful women before. I returned to my well thumbed manuscript and pretended I hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. I was just getting to one of my most often read passages; the description of how a woman is incomplete until she is owned, when a shadow moved over my book. I paused just long enough to compose a particularly cutting swear for the waitress, but when I turned I found this goddess standing over me.

“Glenmorangie is it?”

“Yes, it is, thank you.” I said. Knowing as I said it that she wasn’t asking. She was telling me.

“May I join you?” Again, not asking. “I’m waiting for a friend and I feel I may be drawing too much attention at the bar.”

I remember thinking as I scrambled to my feet that I never stand for a Lady. It’s unbecoming for one in my station. She sat where I had just been, and slid only slightly into the booth. I sat down beside her and we were chatting like old chums in a matter of minutes. She’d come to The City to catch up with an old roommate she hadn’t seen for a couple of years. Her friend was delayed by needing to perform emergency surgery so they opera tickets had been wasted. She’d only be in town for a long weekend...

We talked on and on. To this day, I cannot give a coherent description of the conversation, or of her. Was her hair black? I don’t think so. Probably a dark red. With a long thin oval face and high forehead. Her fingers skimming over the rim of her glass between sips. I never was really sure if she were making the glass sing or if my head was buzzing. I am sure that she was wearing a little black dress with a loose yoke, and pearls. And she was wearing stockings. I remember noticing that when she sat down and crossed her legs I could see the top of her stockings. I was looking into her eyes, adrift at sea. The light of the bar lamps falling into them and being fractured and sent out into a million shards of painful beauty. We were in the midst of some deeply personal yet trivial exchange when I glanced away to reach for my drink.

There was another woman sitting across the booth from us. I couldn’t have said if she’d been there a moment or an hour. I couldn’t have said for certain if it were still night. In the way that my companion reflected light, this woman absorbed it. She was smaller than the woman I’d been talking to. Smaller physically at least, but deeper. Through the side of my vision my friend caught fire. The hair I thought might be black was now flaming contrasted with the inky blackness of this other woman’s hair. The eyes that flung icicles of jade, those were caught and smothered in the pools of featureless night. I knew this was the friend my friend had been waiting for. There was a crash in my heart as I expected that they would leave me.

She simply said; “Ah good, you’ve found us a toy.”

I only got a heartbeat to ponder that statement when she was already standing, putting on her coat. An incongruous pink affair over her short denim skirt and chocolate brown sweater, and boots that came up past her knees. I found I was wearing my own coat and sitting between these beauties in the back seat of a limousine. I still didn’t know either of their names. We came up by elevator into an upper westside townhouse. There was a butler, with three drinks ready on a silver tray. My coat was gone and my suit coat and vest were hung by a valet. I was given slippers. I sank into the softest leather couch I’d ever seen. There was a roaring fire in a hearth bigger than my first apartment. Neither of my darlings were about so I relaxed and laced my fingers behind my head to wait.

Then my star was beside me again. Was that it? Star? Yes, she’d asked me to call her Star. Star Heavnly. She’d laughed as if that were some hilarious joke. She had slipped out of her black dress so now she was only wearing a silk lace corset, black with red ribbons woven through, and of course her stockings. She was sitting very close. She turned so that she was sitting on her own feet with her knees toward the back of the seat. My shirt was unbuttoned, one by one. Mischievous green eyes daring me to object. I dared not.

Not a word was spoken as she undressed me. My head was swimming in anticipation and excitement. She pulled my pants down, but not off. When I was naked she sat looking at me. She was clearly hungry for sex. She ran her hands over my chest and sides, and up and down my legs. Kissing me in odd unpredictable intervals. Finally she stroked her hands around the insides of my thighs. When she touched my organ I loosed a moan of pleasure. She glanced sharply at me as if to will me to silence. Then she took me into her hand and stood me erect and throbbing. I was going to reach for her and realized I was bound.

That’s when she laughed out loud. She kept stroking me so I wouldn’t lose my erection, but I knew then what the other had meant by “toy.”

“You may call me Vampiress.”

The voice was so close in my ear I jumped. I couldn’t jump far though. I was bound wrist and ankle. Vampiress leaned over me from behind and her hair drew along the skin of my cheek. She was wearing a black leather vest, clasped with delicate silver chains. Her breasts pushed against the vest wanting to burst out but the chains held them pressed together making the most delicious cleavage. She just leaned over the top of me, looking at me. Looking in the way a gourmet might consider a morsel.

I hadn’t considered what Heavnly was doing while I was staring at that cleavage. Until I felt her warmth slide over my cock. She was taking me into her. Sitting on me with her back to my face. Her legs squeezed mine together and she slid down to take me all in. Moaning and gasping as she did. I’m not long, but I am kinda thick. Vampiress walked around the end of the couch and stood in front of Heavnly watching as she was filled with me. Watching her face. They kissed. They fondled each other. They hugged. I was just a dick they were using while they made love to each other.

Soon Vampiress knelt between my legs and started kissing and sucking, on Heavnly. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew from their breathing that they’d both had multiple orgasms. Then Vampiress started licking me as my cock went in and out of Heavnly. Soon I was thrashing trying to speed up the strokes. They stopped. Heavnly looked at me over her shoulder and Vampiress looked around Heavnly’s side. When I stopped moving they went back to their pleasure like I wasn’t even there.

I suppose they must’ve slipped me some kind of drug so that I’d stay hard while they played. I remember at least one orgasm. The kind of quivering, gasping, coughing roll your eyes backwards kind of cum that men only wish they’d had once. I came to myself Monday morning on the doorstep of my office. Still holding my book. I dropped it in the trash as I went in. Who owns whom?

I've been cooking all day. I've lost myself in anticipation. Dicing each vegetable thinking exactly how it will look as it passes your sensuous lips, seeing the movement of the smooth lines of your jaw as you chew. Making sure the steamed clams are moist enough I'm unable to stop myself from thinking about other juices, mine and yours. I'm going to prepare every sip and morsel myself. I've hired a waiter to serve us. So that we can concentrate on our enjoyment. I've given just as much attention to the placement of things around the room. Candles where they'll light enough but also not light other spots. Treats for all our senses placed at convenient locations all through the house. Chocolates and other tastes, silks and velvets to touch, soft and approachable visual images, incense and scented oils, and music. How many hours have I spent selecting music? Lilting string concertos, sultry saxophone solos, occasional island steel drum pieces, all linked so that I merely need to hit start. Now it's time to dress.
 
Everything is set and I'm standing in the middle of the room looking around a final checklist as the doorbell rings. Opening the door, I'm stunned. You've obviously given just as much attention to your ensemble as I have to our environment. A spaghetti-strap sequined gown, in red, a black antique lace wrap, stockings and heels. Your hair is pulled up in a down way, that is, it is restrained in such a way as to appear ready to fall any second. I take your hand and bring you into the room. Watching your face I’m near to tears to see your appreciation as you note all the things I've done here. When you look at me and smile I melt inside. (As if I don't melt inside every time you smile at me.) I had hit the start for the music as I went to the door and now the delay I'd set ends and a subtle waltz swells into our ears. Timing has always been our treasure. You drift into my arms as I pause for you and it's impossible to say exactly where the walking stops and the dancing begins.
 
Dinner finished, we linger over our napkins and chat about nothing and everything. Idle hopes and wishes, passionate dreams. the music shifts through sultry saxophone to lyrical violin melodies and on to syncopated steel drum rhythms. with our brandy we move to the nest of pillows by the fireplace, which I deftly ignite with one match. the aroma of cedar logs mixing with the vanilla candles and the lavender oils. The game I laid out earlier amuses us for a while. It's very simple really, as we move around the five pointed star board we have to talk about various aspects of our personal lives; professional, economic, romantic, geographic or family. The twist is that there is a four sided die that we roll to tell us to talk on that subject in terms of; greatest regret, favorite fantasy, proudest moment or funniest circumstance. "Do you like this game?" I ask ... "I designed it myself". Oddly we seem to be ending up on sexual spaces often. "No, really, the dice are not loaded," I protest.
 
As the fire burns low and the candles start going out I reach around you to get a remote control, which I point at the drapes. They roll silently away revealing a two story picture window framing the milky way. A meteor streaks across the sky turning white then red then green and breaking into pieces at the end. You gasp and lean back into the cushions. finding yourself nestled into the curve of my arm. As you look at me and smile I say; "The beauty of the stars pales next to the company I have tonight." and I kiss you.   "You grin impishly and say; "I was wondering when you'd get around to that." "I, ah, but, um, I, ah, I didn't, ER" I start stammering and I turn bright red.
 
But you hush me, placing your fingertips gently against my lips. Then tracing them through the edges of my beard and over my ear. Curling finally around my neck you pull me in to kiss you again. Lingering and sweet. Our lips blending as one flesh. Our shared breath having an aroma of it's own. So we snuggle closer together and sit quietly, watching the panoply of the stars and hearing the music of the spheres. Your cheek on my shoulder and my right arm around your back. Our fingertips seemingly of their own will begin to explore the skin of each other....
 
TO BE CONTINUED