Gettin' Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II by Zane, Paperback | Barnes & Noble
Gettin' Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II

Gettin' Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II

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by Zane
     
 

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From the Queen of Erotica, a smart, witty, and extremely sexy collection of short stories—the second volume to her highly successful Zane’s Sex Chronicles, the book behind the Cinemax series.

Scenarios run the gamut from committed, monogamous couples looking to experiment to wild, single sisters who form a very unconventional sorority.

Overview

From the Queen of Erotica, a smart, witty, and extremely sexy collection of short stories—the second volume to her highly successful Zane’s Sex Chronicles, the book behind the Cinemax series.

Scenarios run the gamut from committed, monogamous couples looking to experiment to wild, single sisters who form a very unconventional sorority. You’ll meet a high-paid multitasking career woman who gets her groove back in “When Opposites Attract.” You’ll take a ride with an adventurous couple who try something new in “The Subway—A Quickie.” You’ll discover a new way of celebrating Christmas in “The Santa Claus.” Spicing up real-life scenarios with over-the-top sexual fantasy, Zane gives readers the best time they’ve ever had between the pages of a book.

Zane’s hottest collection yet, with all-new characters and settings, these stories are tailored to women—but perfect for lovers to share.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
Black Issues Book Review Whew! When you slide between the sheets with [Gettin' Buck Wild], be forewarned. [Zane's] books aren't for the faint of heart. Don't say we didn't warn you!

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780743457026
Publisher:
Atria Books
Publication date:
10/07/2003
Edition description:
Reprint
Pages:
304
Sales rank:
261,164
Product dimensions:
5.40(w) x 8.20(h) x 0.80(d)

Read an Excerpt

When Opposites Attract

"You have an eight-thirty meeting with the board of directors about the five-percent projected increase in the fiscal budget, a ten o'clock meeting with the legal team about the impending lawsuit from the Grayson Corporation, a lunch meeting with Ronald Jackson about his transfer to the Hong Kong office, and a three o'clock conference call with the regional managers from Los Angeles, Dallas, and Atlanta."

I could hear my secretary, Shelly, running off my daily schedule, but I was looking past her out of the floor-to-ceiling window. She had greeted me at the door, mug of steaming coffee in her hand, two creams, one sugar, just like she did every morning. She was a pretty sistah — tall, graceful, beautiful skin, perfect smile — but she always seemed so stressed out. I often wondered why she let her executive assistant job get to her so much. Granted, I was stressed out all the time as well, but I had more to lose. Unlike me, Shelly earned no more than $889.95 after taxes, every two weeks, no matter what her work performance.

I glanced up at her, standing rigidly like she was preparing for a military drill. "Shelly, can I ask you a personal question?"

A nervous expression shadowed her face, causing me to wonder if she was afraid of me. We were the exact same age but had never bonded. I was the vice president of corporate development, pulling down 250K a year plus bonuses. She had barely finished high school.

"Sure. Go ahead," she finally responded.

"Do you ever just go out and have a good time?" I redirected my eyes to the window. There was not a cloud in the powder blue sky. "I mean, just let it all go, hang out with friends, party hearty?"

She giggled. She was gleaming at the mere thought of it. "My friends and I all go to this club over in Brooklyn every Friday night for happy hour, and sometimes we go to a reggae club on Saturdays."

"Reggae, huh?" It was my turn to giggle. "I can't even imagine you dancing to reggae music."

Shelly sat down facing me in one of the leather wing chairs across from my desk. I couldn't remember the last time she had actually taken a seat, other than to take dictation. I was pleased. It felt comfortable, like two sistahs shooting the breeze.

"What about you, Maylia? I mean, Ms. Kincaid."

"Maylia is fine," I responded. "You don't have to be so formal all the time."

"Thank you."

I didn't know whether to be flattered or offended by her thank you. Did she think I was so high-falutin' she had to show appreciation for calling me by my first name?

"So, what about you, Maylia? Do you ever just hang out?"

I pondered her question. I wasn't sure that attending business dinners with clients or boring social engagements at the country club with my parents constituted hanging out.

"Shelly, to be honest, I really don't know," I answered. "I go a lot of places, the finest restaurants and theaters in New York, but I can't remember the last time I actually had fun."

I gazed deep into her eyes and recognized something I hated: pity. I was pitiful. I needed to face facts. All the money, power, and security that I had in my life meant nothing unless I was enjoying the ride.

My parents had groomed me to take my place in high society, pure and simple. My father made his millions in international trade while my mother spent her days shopping in Macy's, Saks, and various boutiques on Fifth Avenue. I went to school at Yale University, graduated with honors, and nabbed a job with McMillan and Associates before I could even move out of my dorm good.

There I was, in my corner office on Fifty-ninth Street overlooking Central Park South, wondering what the hell I was doing with my life. Shelly did not have much money, but she had freedom. She could leave the office at five o'clock and do whatever she wished. I had to play negotiator over soft-shell crabs or spend my nights going over stacks of reports. I truly envied her.

I jumped up from my desk, startling Shelly. She jumped up too and waited for my instructions, assuming her military position again.

"I'm going out," I announced.

"Out? What about your meeting?"

"Cancel it!" I walked toward my private bath, grabbing my purse off my desk on the way. "In fact, cancel all of my appointments. I'm taking the day off!"

"But, but, but Ms. Kincaid, I mean Maylia," she stuttered, "what am I supposed to tell everybody?"

"Tell them I'm sick or something." I swung around to face her. "Isn't that what people usually say when they play hooky from school or work?"

Shelly shrugged her shoulders. "I guess."

I was about to close the bathroom door in her face when a lightbulb went off in my head. "Shelly, after you cancel all of my engagements, take the day off as well."

"Are you serious?" She put her hands on her hips, striking a sistahgurl pose. I fell out laughing. She looked good like that.

I put my purse on the vanity counter and struck the same pose. "Yeah, gurl, I'm serious!" I exclaimed in my best ghettoized accent.

"Well, aiight then." She giggled, enjoying our little scene.

I walked back out of the bathroom and raised my left palm. "Give me five!"

She slapped me a high five and laughed so hard that she was practically crying. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," I chided, knowing good and well taking two days off in a row would be pushing it. They'd probably send the police to my penthouse to make sure I was still breathing.

Shelly strutted out of my office with more pep in her step than I had ever seen and closed the door. I went back in the bathroom and gazed in the mirror. Now, I was glowing. I felt so, so, so invigorated. The mere thought of actually shucking my responsibilities for an entire day was thrilling.

I took a good look at myself and decided I appeared to be more like fifty than my actual thirty years. My hair and makeup, not to mention the stuffy, conservative suit, put age on me. I pulled the clip out of my ebony hair and let it fall down across my shoulders. It had been so long since I physically and symbolically let my hair down.

I took off the blazer of my Donna Karan suit, unbuttoned my sleeves, and rolled them up to just below my elbows. I looked younger already. I turned to the side so I could see the profile of my body. My breasts were as pert as ever, and my ass was just as firm and round as it was in college. Too bad I didn't show off my assets more often.

I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do today, but I was determined to savor and enjoy it. Then I thought about the park. Every day, I looked down from the twenty-fourth floor at the ant-size people Rollerblading, strolling, or riding bikes through Central Park. I didn't know the first thing about Rollerblading, and I hadn't been on a bike since my first year in high school, but I did know how to stroll.

The three-inch leather pumps I had on were not made for walking, though, so I dug through my closet behind the bathroom door and retrieved my gym bag. The same workout clothes had been in it for more than three years. I had every intention of hitting the corporate gym on the seventh floor — I really did — but time constraints just never allowed it.

I opted out of changing clothes completely, but I did take off my thigh-high stockings so I could put on my white crew socks and cross trainers. I had often laughed at the women walking down the street or catching the train in work clothes and tennis shoes. It looked so silly. But I was content to look silly for just one day.

When I emerged from my office less than five minutes later, Shelly was nowhere in sight. Her phone console had been forwarded to the night message, and all the papers I had seen strewn across her desk when I came in were neatly stacked in her in box. Girlfriend meant business about her day off. Now it was my turn to escape the madness.

I managed to get down to ground level in the elevator before someone began to question me. The security guard, Fred, wanted to know if I needed him to call a company car. I told him no thanks, that I would be taking a morning walk in the park. He looked at me in stunned disbelief. I left him sitting there at the security desk with his mouth wide open and swiveled through the revolving door into the brisk morning air.

I sucked air into my lungs, and it felt wonderful. I went to the corner and waited for the light to change before crossing the street and entering Central Park. People were laughing and enjoying themselves. They had lives, unlike me.

I walked down a path for a long time. The muscles in the back of my calves began aching, and I realized I needed to start working out. Not because of weight issues — I was only carrying about 133 pounds on my five-six frame — I was just out of shape, period.

I spotted an ice cream vendor and grew excited. I had not had an ice cream cone in years; just fancy desserts like biscotti, compote, and slices of cheesecake that cost more than having a pizza delivered. I half-ran over to the vendor and whipped out a five, asking for a double scoop of chocolate on a waffle cone. I licked my lips while he hand-packed the ice cream onto the cone. I paid him and then turned around just as a big-ass basketball appeared from nowhere and knocked the cone into me. Luckily, the ice cream was so hard that I only ended up with a brown circle over my left breast, but I was still pissed. My ice cream was on the ground. What idiot would be so careless?

I glanced up and saw the idiot coming toward me. I wanted to spew out a bunch of ugly words at him, but I could not. I was reared up better than that, and people do make mistakes. He was average-looking and I envisioned what type of woman would date him. Certainly not me.

He frowned. "I'm sorry. Did you get hurt?"

"No, I'm fine." I smiled at him and pointed to my shirt. "Just a little stain."

"Well, let me buy you another cone. That's the least I could do." He picked up the cone from the ground and tossed it into the nearest receptacle. "You should let me pay to have your shirt cleaned also."

"None of that is necessary. Really."

He wasn't paying attention. He was already digging into the pockets of his athletic shorts, searching for money. He paid the vendor for another cone.

"Thank you," I said as he handed it to me.

"You're welcome." He glanced back over to the basketball court, where three other men were standing, looking mighty impatient. "I better get back to the game. Have a nice day."

"You, too."

I decided that my best strategy was to find a bench and eat my cone. I did not want to risk someone bumping into me while I was walking and causing another mess. There was a bench on a hill about thirty feet from the basketball court, so I grabbed it seconds before a man in a suit with a bag lunch got to it.

I was sitting there, licking the hell out of my ice cream cone, when I started surveying the rest of the men on the court. One of them stood out from the rest. Not just because of his height, though he had to be at least six-five — he stood out because he was the finest man I had seen in ages. Sepia skin, ebony eyes, and some seriously lickable lips. None of them had on a shirt, but his muscles put the rest of theirs to shame.

"Damn!" I heard myself exclaim out of lust.

Before I finished my cone, I was in heat. The ice cream did nothing to cool me down. I was sitting there fantasizing about that man's hands, tongue, and whatever else all over me. Once I finished my cone, I did not budge. I was mesmerized. How foolish, I finally said to myself. This is so unlike you, Maylia.

That may have been true. In fact, it was completely unlike me, but that did not keep me from following the brother when he threw his shirt back on and started walking away.

I had no idea what I hoped to accomplish by following him, but I kept my distance. I was sure he had absolutely no idea that I was trailing him until...

"Why don't you just walk beside me?"

Was he talking to me? Unfortunately, he was. He had stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, staring down at me.

"Excuse me?" was the only response I could come up with.

"I said, why don't you just walk beside me?"

"Why would I want to do that?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"It's better than following me." He grinned. "You are following me, right?"

"Don't be absurd!" I could not believe his nerve. Even if he was right about me following him, he did not need to point it out. "What are you, some sort of narcissist or something?"

"I have no idea what that means."

"A person who's egotistical, full of themselves."

"Now, I do know what that means, but I'm not that." He pushed a loose hair away from my face and I felt faint. He was turning me on so much that it was scary. "I am flattered, though."

"I can't imagine why," I replied, determined to keep some composure.

"I saw the way you were checking a brotha out on the court."

"Oh, were you just playing basketball back there?" I asked the question with a straight face. "I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy eating my ice cream cone."

"The way you ate it was a treat in itself." He licked his lips. I wanted to lick them for him. "It made me wonder if you devour everything else like that."

"You're nasty."

He came a step closer, and I could smell his sweat. Even that was turning me on. "And you're fine."

"I'm also well-bred. I don't tolerate men speaking to me in such a fashion." That much was true. I was not used to men addressing me like that. The majority of the men I had dealt with felt like they had to impress my parents first, so they always went out of their way to be completely proper. That was why my sex life had been so drab. "I only hold conversations with gentlemen."

I could tell by the way his eyes narrowed that he was offended. "Then why don't you converse your ass back in the opposite direction?"

"This is a free country." I stepped around him and started walking. "I can go wherever I please and do whatever I want."

He grabbed my arm and swung me around. "What do you want to do right now?"

"For starters, I'd like for you to let go of my arm." I tried to free my arm, but he overpowered me.

He started walking, pulling me along with him. "Come on, let's go."

"Let's go where?" I asked out of curiosity. I was being accosted in Central Park, and instead of screaming for help, I was asking questions. Bad sign.

"My place, of course. It's not that far. Unless you'd prefer me to sex you down right here in the park."

His place? "You're a lunatic!" I lashed out at him.

"And you're fine."

I could not help but blush. After all, that was the second time he had called me fine.

He stopped walking, let my arm go, and eyed me seductively. "I bet you wear nothing but the finest, sexiest lingerie. Probably silk or satin thongs and lacy, revealing bras." He crossed his arms and cupped his elbows, looking me up and down. "On second thought, I don't see you in thongs. I see you as a French-cut bikini type of sistah."

"Hmph, you don't know me," I stated.

"But I'd like to know you." He raised his eyebrows and looked me up and down some more, making me feel totally uncomfortable. "Back to my analysis. I bet you wear expensive perfume, two hundred dollars an ounce and up. You bathe in milk and honey and go to the salon once a week to get your hair done and your nails and toes tended to."

"Are you done?" I was insulted because 90 percent of his statements were true. Was I so artificial that a complete stranger could read me like a book? "Since you think you know so much, why don't you join the Psychic Network?"

"I'd rather do this."

He leaned down and slipped his tongue in my mouth. I backed away and slapped him across the cheek.

"How dare you?"

"How dare I not?" He chuckled, rubbing his cheek. "I'm sorry, but I'm one of those people that realizes just how short life really is. To just let you walk away from me and risk the chance of never seeing you again is asinine."

I'll be damned if he was not making sense to me. "I see you know some big words after all."

"Besides, you were following me for a reason."

"For the last time, I wasn't following you," I stated vehemently, determined not to be classified as a stalker. "I was just on my way to, to, to..."

"Yes?" He smiled, awaiting the answer we both knew I could not supply.

"Oh, never mind. I don't have to explain myself to you. You're a complete stranger."

"Just answer me two questions, and if you still want me to, I'll walk away and never look back."

"Fine." He better not just walk away from me, I thought. "Go ahead."

"Are you seriously involved with anyone right now?"

I saw no harm in answering that particular question. "No, but that's because I work all the time, and — "

"A simple yes or no will do."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Your other question?"

"Has any man ever made you feel the way you imagined it would feel like in your dreams?"

How did he know I had sexual dreams? Damn him! "What makes you think I have dreams?"

"That's answering a question with a question. Play fair." I rolled my eyes at him again. "Everyone has dreams."

"But that doesn't mean everyone dreams about sex," I countered.

"Most women do."

"See, there goes that psychic ability of yours again." I chuckled. "Did you take an official survey or what?"

"Don't you want a man that asks you what you need, what you crave, what you yearn for, and actually cares enough to try to give it all to you?" He started playing with my hair, fingering it gently. "A man that not only talks the talk but walks the walk?" His fingers moved to my lips and started tracing the outline of them. "A man willing to move heaven and earth to make sure you get just as much pleasure out of making love as he does?"

"Stop it!" I squealed, stepping away from him. "Just stop it!"

"I can't." He closed the distance between us again and put his arm around my waist, using his other hand to hold my chin up so that I was forced to look at him. "I want you, and I don't even know your name. You don't even have to tell me if you don't want to. Just come with me. Take a chance. Do something totally uncharacteristic in your normal life."

"I've already done that once today by just being here in the park," I said, wondering how far I was really willing to take this. "Twice in one day might be pushing it."

"Life is about pushing past limits." He gave me a peck on the lips and then drew my bottom lip into his mouth, suckling on it for a few seconds before letting it go. "Life is about doing everything you want while you still have a chance. Tomorrow is guaranteed to no one."

I debated all of five seconds before I started tonguing the living daylights out of him.

His place was a dump. I was halfway afraid to even walk through the front door. He lived in a public housing complex, the projects, the type of place I had never been anywhere near in my entire life.

His one-bedroom apartment was dark and dank. As soon as he turned on the living room light, roaches scattered for cover.

"Um — I think I better go," I whispered, turning around in hopes of making a quick exit.

He grabbed my elbow. "Don't tell me you came all the way here with me just to leave?" He saw the way I was surveying his place. "Ah, I get it. You hate my home. You think you're above all this." He let go of me. "Well, take your prissy ass on then. I thought you were ready for a real man."

"I'm not prissy," I stated defensively. I just hate being called out. "And your place is lovely." We both knew I was lying. "I'm just not comfortable being here with a stranger. No one knows where I am. This is like something out of a movie."

"Not yet, but it can be." He grinned seductively at me. "I don't have a camcorder, but I do have a Polaroid. Want to take some pictures?"

"You're insane."

He pushed me up against the open doorframe and palmed my breasts through my blouse. "I'm not insane. I'm just horny. I want to spend the rest of the day getting to know your body and committing every single inch to memory."

His lines were getting rather corny, but that did not prevent my panties from getting wet.

"Have you ever been tied up?"

He was insane! "No, I never have, and I never will be."

He smirked. "Still don't trust me, huh?"

"Still don't know you," I replied crudely. "Besides, I wouldn't let you tie me up if I'd known you my entire life. I trust no one that much."

"Well, I trust you. I'll let you tie me up, if you want to."

"Are you serious?"

He started unbuttoning my blouse. "I'm very serious."

"You would actually let me tie you up?"

"Tie me up." He lowered my blouse off my shoulders, along with my bra straps. "Blindfold me. Whatever pleases you, pleases me."

Now I had been with enough men in my life to know that most women wait decades to hear a man say something like "Whatever pleases you, pleases me." I had never heard anything close. Maybe that was why I had never had a man turn me out, dick-whip me, make me yearn for him every second that he was away. That was it! That was the second I knew I was not leaving his apartment without getting the dick.

I started helping him with my clothing, and within a few seconds, I was nude from the waist up. He rubbed my hardened nipples between his thumbs and forefingers while I hiked my skirt up. I wanted to provide easy access when he was ready for the goodies below the waist.

He gazed into my eyes, and my breathing became heavy. There was something about the way he looked at me. It was clear that he was a man about his business and that I was in for one hell of a sexual experience. I was ready for him to lead me to bed, but he shocked me by letting me go.

"I need to take a quick shower. I'm all sweaty from playing ball."

I started to say, I don't give a damn! "Okay, but make it fast," I heard myself demand.

He grinned. "Don't rush it. Good things come to those who wait."

I watched him walk toward the bathroom, stripping along the way. He kicked off his shoes and bent down to yank off his socks. Then he lost the shirt. His back was well defined, and I imagined digging my fingernails into it in the throes of passion. He let his shorts drop and stepped out of them, revealing form-fitting black briefs. Damn, what an ass!

He stopped a foot shy of the doorway and turned to me. "Why don't you come in? You can help me scrub something. Possibly everything."

I did not respond. I just stared at him, wondering how I went from eating ice cream in the park to contemplating joining a stranger in his shower. Life sure is full of curveballs. I knew all along that I would join him in the shower, but I wanted to play hard to get, so I gave him a five-minute head start to make him wonder about my next move.

When I entered the bathroom, the steam was so thick that I could barely make out the glass door of the shower. I took off the rest of my clothes and slid the door to the side. There he was, with hot water cascading over his ripples. The brother was seriously cut. We seductively eyed each other for a few seconds before I directed my eyes down and targeted his dick. His large, juicy dick. Nice and round. Thicker than most. I licked my lips reflexively.

"See something you like?" he asked jokingly.

"Maybe. Do you see something you like?"

He reached out and ran his damp fingers through my hair. I moaned. I do not know where that came from, because I am usually not a moaner.

"Come here, sexy lady." He pulled me into the shower with him. "I adore everything I see."

He lifted me up and placed my back against the tile. I straddled my legs around his waist and slipped my tongue into his mouth. He eagerly accepted it, and I found myself moaning again because his kissing was all that.

Once we broke the kiss, he lifted me higher and licked a trail across my right breast with his tongue. He drew my nipple into his mouth and sucked on my black pearl. I do not think my nipples have ever been as hard as they were at that exact moment.

He took a breather and announced, "I'm a breast man!"

"Damn! I can see that!"

We both started laughing as he let me back down. He handed me a loofah sponge. "Can you get my back for me?"

I was disappointed. What happened to the breast sucking?

I scrubbed his back for him and could not help but whip his ass into shape while I was back there. His body was admirable. I tried to recall the last time I had seen such a magnificent specimen of a man and quickly deduced that I probably never had. He did not seem like he would turn around any time soon, so I reached in front of him and began to caress his stiff dick with the sponge.

He moaned, and I dropped the sponge on the floor so that I could work my hand up and down his shaft. He finally turned to face me and buried his tongue into my mouth again. His kisses did something to me, and I do not know if it was only them or the fact that I was finally letting go of the inhibitions that came from being reared by my bourgeois parents, but I was suddenly motivated at that point. Motivated to indulge in the fuck of a lifetime.

I caressed his chest and placed small kisses all over it as I got down on my knees in the shower. My hair was doused with water, but I did not care. I definitely would not be returning to work that day. It had been years since I even had the craving to suck a dick, but the mere thought of taking him into my mouth made me tremble. I gazed at his dick, surveying every inch and vein.

"You look delicious," I told him.

"Well, don't let me stop you."

He tried to push my head toward his dick, and I pulled back. "Whatever pleases me, remember?" I said coldly, staring up into his eyes. "I don't like it when a man instructs me. In my own time. In my own way."

That seemed to intrigue him. He grinned, and though it seemed impossible, his dick became even harder inside my hand.

I stuck my tongue inside the head and sampled his essence. "Umm, that is delicious!"

Before he could respond, I took him deep, and he pressed his hands against the walls to keep his balance. The water made it easier to slide him in and out, and I kept taking in more and more, relaxing my throat until I could feel the tip tickling my tonsils. I used one hand to hold his dick in place so that I could deep-throat it and teased his balls with the other one.

He began to shiver, and I sensed that he was about to explode, so I released him from my mouth and started licking up and down the shaft. He was a stranger, and allowing him to cum in my mouth was out of the question, no matter how much I yearned to taste it. I finished him off with a few seconds of handiwork, and when he came, we both watched it trickle down the center of my chest with delight.

"Damn, woman! I knew you were something when I first saw you!"

I did not comment. I just stood up and told him, "Your turn."

He did not hesitate to get on his knees, place one of my feet on the side of the tub, and bury his tongue in my pussy. I threw my head back into the stream of water, raised my arms, and grabbed the showerhead so that I would not slip.

My pussy had been an entrée a few times, but never an all-you-can-eat buffet. Not until that day. He ate me until I came all over his tongue. Twice!

We were washing each other off when the hot water finally ran out. We giggled as we leaped from the shower, struggling to share the same towel to dry off and not freeze. I finally yielded the towel to him and ran into his bedroom, burying myself under his black comforter.

He jumped into bed beside me. "Let me have some of that."

"You have the towel." I leaned over and kissed his shoulder. "And you can have me, too, if you want me."

"Oh, you know I want you."

He climbed on top of me and started sucking on my neck.

"There is one condition," I said, trying to refrain from laughing because I am ticklish on my neck.

He looked at me. "What's the condition?"

"You have to wear a raincoat. The last thing I need is to catch something. Especially pregnitis."

He chuckled. "Pregnitus?"

I slapped him gently on the chest. "Yes, you know what I mean."

He got up and retrieved a condom from his top dresser drawer. I sat on the edge of the bed, opened it, put it in my mouth, and secured it on his dick. He was impressed with me, and so was I. I had wanted to apply a condom like that ever since I saw it on cable television. In my humble opinion, I did one hell of a job.

I pulled him onto the bed and straddled him. "I want to be on top," I said.

"Whatever pleases you," he said.

I leaned down and gave him a kiss. "Just what I wanted to hear."

I guided his dick into me, and it filled me up. I had to pause a moment to let my body get used to the size of his invasion. Then I started moving slowly as he palmed my breasts and squeezed. I lowered them to him so that he could suck on my nipples and got into a rhythm.

After that, we did not speak another word for an hour. Not while I was riding him. Not while he took me from behind and pulled me back deeper onto him by grabbing my hair. Not while we pleased each other orally again. Not while I dipped my fingers into myself and let him suck my pussy juice off them. We just immersed ourselves in the experience.

He fucked me to sleep, and by the time I awoke, I could see the sun setting from his bedroom window. I glanced at his alarm clock, and it was after seven. I felt behind me, where he should have been, and found emptiness.

I got up from the bed, wrapped a sheet around me, and walked out into the living room. His hand was buried in my purse.

"What are you doing in my purse?" I lashed out at him.

He turned around, startled. "Nothing."

I stomped across the room and grabbed it from him.

He laughed uncomfortably. "Do you honestly think I would try to rob you after what just happened between us?"

"No."

I dropped my eyes to the floor and set my purse down. I suddenly felt ashamed because that is exactly what was running through my mind.

"Go ahead," he insisted, picking my purse back up and shoving it at me. "Check and make sure nothing's missing."

I set it back down and caressed his cheek. "I apologize for sounding accusatory. I'm just a bit nervous about all of this."

He pulled away from me and plopped down on the sofa. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping you would be totally relaxed."

"I am. I mean, it was great. You were great."

"Great enough to see again? To see on a regular basis?"

There it was. The dreaded question that I had hoped would not surface.

"I can't," I replied, deciding honesty was best. "You and I are from two different worlds, and people in my world just wouldn't understand."

"Why does it matter what they think?"

I sat down beside him and pondered on that. "Good question."

He took the sheet off me and teased my nipples. "Tell me your name."

"What's in a name?"

"My name's Julian."

Part of me wanted to tell him my name, my history, my goals, my desires. The other part, the sensible part, told me to just seize the moment. So, I did. I seized the moment, and I seized his dick, taking it into my hand and rubbing the shaft to prepare it for round two.

"Let's do it again, Julian." I lowered my head to his dick. "Maybe this time I'll tie you up."

I never saw Julian again. I went back to my daily grind, working on overload and staring out at the people enjoying life in the park. He had placed his telephone number in my purse that day. I guess he had sensed that I would not be a woman to take chances. He was my complete opposite, and it never could have worked. It was still pleasurable to have just one day without judgment. It was still pleasurable to find out what happens when opposites attract.

Copyright © 2002 by Zane

Meet the Author

Zane is the New York Times bestselling author of Afterburn, The Heat Seekers, Dear G-Spot, Gettin’ Buck Wild, The Hot Box, Total Eclipse of the Heart, Nervous, Skyscraper, Love is Never Painless, Shame on It All, and The Sisters of APF; the ebook short stories “I’ll be Home for Christmas” and “Everything Fades Away”; and editor for the Flava anthology series, including Z-Rated and Busy Bodies. Her TV series, Zane’s Sex Chronicles, and The Jump Off are featured on Cinemax, and her bestselling novel Addicted is a major motion picture with Lionsgate Films. She is the publisher of Strebor Books, an imprint of Atria Books/Simon & Schuster. Visit her online at EroticaNoir.com.

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