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An Excerpt From: 1-800-SEX4YOU
© Copyright
CHRIS TANGLEN & MICHELE R. BARDSLEY, 2004.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave, Inc.
“I can’t do this.” I looked in the bathroom mirror and
assessed my new purchase from Madame Persia’s House of Erotica. I
had to admit that the black bustier made the most of what little boobage I
owned. The sheer black hose felt good against my freshly shaved legs, too.
The scrap of black lace that passed for underwear hid the thin line of
pubic hair left from my painful and tear-inducing Brazilian bikini wax two
days earlier.
My best friend, Drae, peeked over my shoulder. “Arissa
Montague,” she intoned. “Sex Goddess.”
“I cut my hair for this emotionless sexual encounter,” I
said, shaking my head. My new short tresses resettled into the sleek new
do, a wash and wear and gel and blow-dry specialty that cost me two hundred
bucks. “I’m an idiot. I don’t spend that much money on my clothes.”
“It shows,” said Drae, who threw a glance at the stack
of sweats and T-shirts on my bed that had yet to make it into my closet.
“But you’re worth an expensive haircut and fancy lingerie and hot sex with
a stud who will put ol’ Jeremy to shame.”
Our eyes met in the mirror. My fiancé had dumped me six
months ago in a very public scene at our mutual workplace, Mortenson’s
Public Relations. Drae worked in the same building for a collection agency
and had arrived to take me to lunch at the same time Jeremy arrived with
his whore, our lovely lobby receptionist, to announce the end of our
engagement. The receptionist was a sweet young thing who fucked anything
that walked and her little poisoned claws were still embedded in the man.
And oh yeah, my boss, Derek Mortenson, also known as the biggest asshole in
the world, witnessed my humiliation too. He was a dark, moody man who never
smiled, always worked and probably had hot sex all the time. Especially on
that big cherry wood desk…oh baby. He was big, tall,
broad-shouldered, and muscled. I wondered what he looked like naked. His
big hands would cover my breasts, knead them, pinch the turgid points…
“Earth to Arissa.”
I blinked. My breathing had shallowed and my eyes had
glazed. I cleared my throat and looked away from my turned-on mirror image
and Drae’s crafty smile. She probably thought I was getting all hot and
horny for the upcoming encounter.
“Life sucks.” I exited the bathroom and picked up the
slinky, strapless black dress. I’d bought matching black shoes with
three-inch heels. “If these aren’t fuck-me pumps, I don’t know what are.” I
shimmied into the dress and put on the heels. Then I sat on the bed, my
body trembling, tears threatening to ruin my carefully applied makeup. I
was still pissed off at my rotten ex-fiancé, and still felt vulnerable to
any man, even one who just wanted a sexual playmate. “I’m a desperate,
sex-crazed woman. I am paying a service so I can boink with a stranger.”
“Yeah, you’re pathetic,” agreed Drae in a cheerful
voice. “Put on your earrings.”
I stuck the tiny diamonds into my ears and twisted on
the backs. Drae spritzed me with expensive perfume then stood back to look
at the end result of a month’s planning.
That’s right. A month. Drae found 1-800-SEX-4YOU.
It was her last weapon in the Get-Arissa-Laid-So-She’ll-Stop-Whining plan.
Jeremy’s desertion put me into a depression that had me on the couch with a
stockpile of coffee ice cream. I watched romantic comedies about three
thousand times, too.
Drae put up with this behavior for a couple of weeks—a
record for her. She’s short on sympathy, preferring action to moping. Me,
I’m a moper. I’ve spent the last six months going out to dance clubs, bars,
parties and the occasional blind date in the hopes Drae would tire of her
efforts. She’s got a short attention span too, but nothing, and I mean nothing,
distracted her from The Cause.
If having sex with a stranger meant she’d leave me alone
long enough to sneak a pint of mocha fudge ice cream, I’d do it.
“It’s safe. You viewed the facility. You’ve been tested
physically, emotionally, and mentally. They have your sixth grade school
records, for Pete’s sake.” Drae grinned. “This is the best way for you to
get into the game again, love. Treat yourself to hot, hot, hot sex and
re-enter the world of the living.”
“I really can’t do this,” I said, thinking of Derek
again. He was a cold man. A brilliant man. An emotional black hole. Would
he consider a passionate one-night stand? He was a guy, after all. Maybe if
I arrived in my current outfit and splayed myself on the desk, he’d fuck me
until I couldn’t remember my name.
Yeah, right.
“You’re in charge, Drae,” I said. “Watch my babies. I’ll
be back in the morning.”
“I’ll watch your cats,” she grumbled. She pretended not
to like Mou Mou, Sallie, and Talina, but she loved the rascals. The cats
didn’t really need a babysitter, but Drae, for all her tending of my love
life, didn’t have a relationship in sight. Maybe I should badger her to try
1-800-SEX-4YOU.
The idea had merit.
* * * * *
“I’m nervous,” I admitted to the cool blonde. I’m blonde
too, but not cool. More like too-much-sunshine blonde. Her secretive smile
did nothing to reassure me. Instead she crooked a finger, sashayed from
behind the desk, and gestured for me to follow. I didn’t give my name or
any information. I was annoyed that she knew who I was and what I was here
for without me saying a word. “Uh…you’re not confusing me with anyone, right?”
“Arissa Montague. Age twenty-seven. Measurements
thirty–twenty-four–thirty. Loves animals. Works for Mortensen’s Public
Relations. Recently ended engagement.” She stopped at one of the
white-paneled doors, opened it, and pointed with her elegant arm. “You
received three As, two Bs, and one D in the sixth grade.”
“That’s scary.”
Her smile warmed. “You have no idea.”
I entered the room and the woman followed. “Your partner
will arrive shortly. You both requested anonymity. In order to ensure those
requests, we ask that you wear the silk half-hood. It will cover the top
half of your head, allowing your lips to remain free.” She pointed to the
two silk purple hoods hanging on hooks near the door.
So much for the freakin’ $200 haircut and va-va-voom makeup.
All my partner would see is the ends of my hair and my lips. “He’ll wear
one, too?”
“Only one of you needs to wear the half-hood at a time.”
Lit candles were everywhere, on the nightstands, the floor, and the tables
in the sitting area. It was huge! The mattress looked soft, comfortable
under the white cotton fitted sheet. Pillows of all sorts and sizes heaped
against the headboard; a mass of folded blankets covered the other end of
the bed.
“Toys are in the drawers of the nightstands. We’ve
provided protection, too, if you need it. When you’re ready for a break,
simply ring the bell and your personal butler will bring an assortment of
goodies.” She finished checking the preparations then rounded the bed to
stand in front of me. “Butterflies in your stomach are good.”
CLOSE WINDOW
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