His Name Is Sir Sample

Chapter 1

I was nearly sixteen years old when I got my first real kiss, much older than my friends were when they got theirs. I had opportunities, but let them pass because of one reason or another. Not the right boy, or not the right place, not the right time. Never just right.

Then I attended a school dance one Saturday night, and Alan Reed asked me to dance. I would always remember how it felt to slow dance with him. He was a full head taller than me, and I loved the way my head fit under his chin. Although he was still in that gawky, teenage boy stage, I thought he was terribly handsome, and I had long nurtured a secret crush on him.

He was on the basketball team, and I watched him on the court, admiring the way he ran, the way he blocked a shot. I watched him in the halls at school, too. He never seemed to watch me back, not until that one night, at the dance.

His heated body pressed against mine, holding me close, our feet doing little more than shuffling back and forth. My cheek rubbed against his t-shirt, and my hands were clasped behind his damp neck. We were both sweating lightly because it was warm in the gym, over-heated by hormones and teenage angst.

When the song was over, Alan led me off to get something to drink, but he didn’t stop at the table with the sodas and punch. He towed me straight past it, into a corner of the gym, behind the bleachers.

We ducked around and over the metal struts of the support beams until we were well underneath the bleachers, the only illumination coming from slanting bands of light that filtered through the narrow gaps below each row of seats.

I wasn’t thinking at all. Just following. I knew that naughty things happened behind the bleachers, and when he pushed me up against the cool concrete wall and pressed his lips to mine, I didn’t consider telling him no.

This was what I’d been wanting. The right boy. The right time. The right place. It was perfect. Alan Reed kissed me. That was all that mattered.

I had no idea what I was doing, so I followed his lead. When he pushed his tongue against my lips, I opened my mouth. I wasn’t sure how I felt about having his tongue inside me. I couldn’t figure out what was making him breathe so hard, why poking his tongue in and out of my mouth was exciting him.

Then he laid his hand on my breast. I stiffened, my brain kicking in finally. This was going too fast, so I pushed his hand away.

He kissed me for a while longer, then his hand strayed back to my breast.

Just then, I heard a sound, like a giggle. I looked back the way we had come and saw a pair of dark figures heading our way.

I pushed against Allen’s chest, tore my mouth away from him and hissed, “There’s someone coming!”

He looked. The couple was upon us. It was two other kids. I recognized them both. One was a friend of Alan’s, and the other was a girl I only knew as an acquaintance.

Alan nodded at the boy. The couple settled near us, the girl pushed back against the wall the same as I was. They wasted no time settling down to kissing.

Alan leaned forward and mashed his lips against mine. I realized with a start that his hand was still on my breast. Then his tongue poked into my mouth again, and he began gently squeezing my breast.

I pushed against his hand, pulled my head back and said, “Stop.”

Alan nuzzled my neck and asked, “Why? You’ll like it.”

I said, “Because … because … they’ll see.”

He didn’t stop squeezing me. “No they won’t. They’re too busy with each other.”

I looked over at the couple. Sure enough, they had no eyes for us. But they could have looked at us. They could have.

I gave in and let Alan do what he wanted. I even tried touching his tongue with my own, though I never got up the courage to stick my tongue in his mouth. I soon discovered he was right about me liking his hand on my breast. I felt very naughty, and very mature.

Alan eventually worked his way up under my shirt and was in the process of prying up my bra, when we were interrupted by the sound of, “Hey! You there!”

We flew apart, instantly knowing the sound of authority when we heard it. My cheeks flamed while I tried to settle my shirt back into place. Alan took off, dashing away into the darkness behind the bleachers, as did the other pair of lovers, both of whom blew past me at breakneck speed.

I stood there stupidly, surprise rendering me immobile. There would be no escape. A tall man jogged up beside me. It was one of the dance chaperones.

He scowled down at me. “Where are the others?”

I looked at the floor and shrugged.

He sighed. “Ran off and left you, did they?”

“I guess.” I thought, yes, that’s exactly what they did. That’s exactly what Alan did. Left me here to get in trouble. I felt a sharp tug in my chest.

The chaperone patted me on the head. “Come on. Let’s get back to the dance.”

I asked, “I’m not in trouble?”

He jerked his head, a movement that told me to get a move on. I did and he followed behind, telling me to watch my step over the metal struts.

He said, “You’re not in trouble. But you should be more careful. Don’t rush things. You’re young and have plenty of time to make out with boys when you’re older.”

My face was hot. I didn’t have anything to say to that.

At school on Monday, Alan spread it around the school that he felt me up Saturday night. I would never again lack dance partners.

There were many times in the future when I would wish I had heeded the chaperone’s advice, most heartily when I got pregnant at the age of eighteen.

Now here I was, nearly thirty years old, and I realized I still hadn’t mastered the art of patience. I still rushed things.

As for being young, and having plenty of time … I didn’t know. It seemed to me that if I didn’t make some serious changes, and soon, time would run out on me before I realized it.

 

 

Josh slid a warm hand up my thigh, stopping at the hem of my skirt. I turned my head and give him an encouraging smile. He smiled back at me, but his hand didn’t climb any higher.

I sighed in frustration.

It was the last night of my vacation, and the next morning I’d be packing up and heading home with my friends, back to real life. Before that happened, though, I needed a fling. When I met Josh three days before, I thought he’d be the right man for the job. Good looking, tall, tanned and well-built, he seemed the perfect find.

Josh was a local, and probably had been hooking up with vacationing women since before he was old enough to drive. He knew all the right things to say, had perfected the moves to seduce a woman into his arms and bed.

Well, to seduce a regular woman.

I had discovered I wasn’t a regular woman anymore. I discovered it the night before when Josh and I were entwined in a make-out session on the beach.

His kisses were sweet, but undemanding. His movements and breathing erratic and uncontrolled. When he closed his hand over my breast, he squeezed me as if I were breakable. It wasn’t enough. Not for me. Not anymore.

Still, all of those inadequacies might have been overlooked, since we were on a public beach, and anyone could walk by at any moment, discover us there, a fact which added a thrill all its own.

When I took Josh’s hand and placed it between my legs, he groaned and said, “God, Nonnie, I wish we were in your room.” Then he took his hand away.

Well, hell. I sent him home alone, and took myself back to my empty bed.

I lay there in my lonely room, put out with fate. I had been doing a lot of thinking during my vacation, and I decided it was time for me to commit myself to my own self interest. It was time for me and my wants to come first.

One positive outcome of the aborted make-out session with Josh was that I learned that there was no going back for me, no returning to a vanilla sex life. If a hot male like Josh, with his ample arsenal of practiced moves, couldn’t get me revved up past second gear, then an ordinary sex life was no longer an option for me.

Good to know, I supposed. One important question answered.

What next?

I made a promise to myself. The next night, I would be more determined, and I would do whatever was necessary to get what I wanted, to learn what must be learned. I would set the stage for what I needed, put Josh where I wanted him, and find a way to make it work.

So, for the last night of my vacation, I formulated a plan.

Josh and I, along with my friends and their dates, were gathered around a big table on the patio of a quaint club. Candles in jars flickered on the tables and colored party lights twinkled from the framework surrounding the patio. A full moon reflected on the ocean view in front of us. A lovely summer night.

I was a little buzzed from the cocktails, and Josh had a look in his eye that said he was ready to seal the deal with me tonight. I was ready, too.

After Josh disappointed me by not slipping his hand underneath my skirt, I took matters into my own hands. The new me. Going after what I wanted. Making things happen.

I leaned into Josh and whispered, “Want to take a walk?”

He nodded. I told my friends that we’d be back soon, ignored their waggling eyebrows, and headed off toward the beach, holding hands with Josh.

A row of tall hedges lined the sides of the patio, separating it from the darkened courtyard next door. Once Josh and I were far enough away from the patio that no one would be watching us anymore, I doubled back to the bar, dragging Josh along with me.

He asked, “Hey, where are you going? I thought we were …”

I shushed him. “Just follow me.”

I pulled him between the hedgerow and the wrought iron fence that enclosed the courtyard. After peeking through the gaps in the hedge to find a spot I liked, I stopped and put my arms around Josh’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

His hands closed around my waist and I snugged tightly against him. In no time, his growing erection pressed into my belly. Yes, good.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and smoothed my hands up under his shirt, sliding my palms over the muscled planes of his back. Josh groaned and kissed a soft trail down to my collarbone.

I turned to look through the hedges. Could anyone see what we were doing here? It was possible. I couldn’t be sure. If they looked through the gaps in the shrubbery, they could see. Of that, I was certain.

After more heated kisses and caresses, I put my hands on Josh’s shoulders and pushed down firmly, taking us both to our knees, sinking into the soft sand. I guided Josh’s hand underneath my tank top, and he hesitantly squeezed my breast.

He panted, his voice sounding reedy when he whispered, “Damn, Nonnie, let’s go to your room.”

I shook my head. “No, can’t wait for that.”

I shoved against his chest, pushing him backwards, trying to get him flat on his back, but he wouldn’t go down all the way.

He whispered, “Not here. There are people right on the other side.”

I kept pushing at his chest. “I don’t care.” Though, of course, I did care. The people were the whole damned point.

He groaned, finally letting me shove him onto his back. I landed on his chest, between his open legs.

“Oh, God,” he mumbled when I nibbled his neck and ear. “I’m going to get sand everywhere. It seems like a good idea, but it’s not. Trust me.”

I said, “When we’re done, I’ll take you back to my room, get you in the shower and rinse every last grain of sand off your naked body. I’ll use my tongue, if that’s what it takes. I promise.”

“Mmm,” was his response.

I reached under my shirt and quickly undid the front closure hooks of my bra. I guided Josh’s hands to my freed breasts. Savoring his groan of pleasure, I captured it in a kiss.

I opened my mouth to invite him inside, and he accepted the invitation with a force that pleased me enough to ignite a spark between my legs. I rubbed my hips against his erection, pushed my breasts against his hands, hoping to increase the pressure of his fondling.

Josh’s eyes were closed, so I stole glances through the gaps in the hedge. Had anyone noticed us? Not that I could see. However, the fact remained that anyone could notice us. It was just a matter of chance.

A big thud sounded in my chest. A matter of chance.

I sat up and scooted my way backward until I could get at Josh’s pants. I yanked open his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans while he said ridiculous things like, “Jesus, I don’t know about this,” and “Let’s go to your room.”

I reached into his boxers and pulled out his hard cock. Wrapping my fingers around it, I gave it a few gentle strokes, then took Josh’s hand and held it between my legs, knowing he would find me wet and ready.

I said, “It’s a long walk to my cottage. I might lose this before we get there.”

He hooked a finger under my panties, slipped inside my slick folds and said, “Fuck.”

I thought, guess that puts an end to his stupid arguments.

I asked, “Do you have a condom?” even though I already knew he would.

He answered that he did, in his wallet. We fumbled about until he had the packet in hand and tore it open. I took the rubber from him and quickly rolled it down over his shaft.

Another glance at the hedgerow and I was more than ready. I straddled his hips, pulled my panties to one side, and held his cock in my hand to guide him inside me. I lowered myself onto him, my body easily accepting his width and length. I moaned softly. Josh joined in.

His dick was of a good size, though not as large as the one I had recently become accustomed to. All the same, he filled me well enough, and it was fine, the feeling of him pressing against the walls of my pussy, the slick slide of his length inside me.

Josh held my hips, but I was the one driving. I laid my hands on his muscled chest and began to fuck him, slowly, carefully, taking long strokes that made us both shudder.

He closed his eyes. I looked to the hedgerow. I heard people chatting on the other side, less than fifteen feet away. I smelled the burning candles on their tables, the tangy waft of hot wings, fruity-scented cocktails and layers of perfume and cologne. So close.

I squinted, trying to find a pair of eyes turned our way. Any eyes would do. Any.

Nothing. No one.

I knew Josh was close to coming, knew that if I picked up the tempo he would be over the edge in only a few moments. I held my steady pace. I wasn’t close yet. This was good, but not good enough. The chance of being seen wasn’t enough.

I imagined that someone on the other side of the hedge was watching us. No, imagination wasn’t good enough either.

I ground myself around on Josh, enjoying the sensations of his cock moving back and forth inside me. I ran a finger over my clit, circling lightly, then more firmly. I sighed softly. Good, but …

Not enough.

So close.

I blew out a breath. Some noise, maybe, would do the trick, turn a pair of eyes our way.

No. That wasn’t the thing.

Then I turned and looked through the wrought iron fence and into the dark, empty courtyard on the other side of us.

My breath caught in my throat.

The courtyard wasn’t empty.

There, next to a tree, someone was standing. Watching.

The tree blocked most of the moonlight from showing the features of the person, but the outline revealed a distinctly-male form. He simply stood there, facing us, watching. I thought his hands may have been in his pockets.

A pulse of pure heat shot outward from my core, and I remembered to breathe again. A big gulp of air.

I looked to the shadowy form, and I pulled off my shirt and bra in one movement. Then I turned back to Josh, whose eyes were open now and staring at my breasts. He reached up and fondled me. I put my hands over his and squeezed hard, trying to tell him without words what it was I wanted from him.

And then I fucked him, hard and fast, my knees grinding into the gritty sand, my hips rising and falling, bucking over him. My heartbeat quick, shallow like my breaths. I let the pressure build.

And when the moment was right, when I knew Josh wouldn’t last more than a few seconds longer, I clamped down the muscles in my pussy and gazed into the courtyard, straight to where my silent spectator stood. There he was. The dark outline of him.

I came hard, pleasure spiraling out from my pussy. I must have cried out too loudly, because Josh abruptly sat up and mashed a hard hand over my mouth.

Then he, too, came, his hips jerking beneath me, pushing me onward into my orgasm.

I couldn’t stop looking at the man in the shadows. Couldn’t stop looking until the last of the pleasure faded into shuddery aftershocks.

Josh took his hand off my mouth and fell back onto the sand, pulling me with him, my bare chest against his cotton shirt. He wrapped his arms around me and we lay there puffing and panting, his rapidly deflating cock still inside me.

When I had myself back together again, I turned my eyes once more to the dark courtyard. The stranger was gone. Disappeared.

I wondered, had he truly been there? Could his form have been a trick of light and shadow? Could my desire for an audience have conjured him, golem-like, from the dark matter of my need?

I didn’t actually care though, if he were real or not. He had been real enough when it mattered.

Josh said, his voice soft against my ear, “Damn, Nonnie, that was hot.”

I thought, he didn’t know the half of it.

 

 

Later, back in my room, I fulfilled my promise to Josh and made sure not a single, annoying grain of sand remained on his body. He returned the favor then carried me off to my bed.

Josh was a good lover, but whatever he did, it wasn’t enough to take me over the edge. Even when I was on all fours and he was fucking me fast and furious, even when I convinced him to smack my ass a few times, it wasn’t enough, wasn’t hard enough, wasn’t even close to what I craved.

It wasn’t his fault. What he was doing should have been enough. I eventually faked an orgasm to give him the permission he needed to finish himself off.

I cuddled with him for a while afterward, then sent him on his way, telling him I had to get up early, that he was great, I’d loved it. Maybe I’d see him again someday. All the crap you say to get someone out of your bed at two o’clock in the morning.

When he was gone, I hopped back into bed and wrapped the covers around myself.

It had been a night of hit and miss. If there had been any lingering doubts in my mind about the direction my sex life was heading, then tonight should have put those doubts down for a final count.

Some unwanted lines filtered through my memory, sounding as clear as when I first heard them nearly a week ago.

“You’ll feel differently later. When you start to miss what I can give you, that other men can’t.”

Taunting words, spoken by Michael Weston when I dumped him. So cocksure, he was. So full of himself.

And worse, he might have been right.

Hell.

No. I might be missing what he could give me, but it didn’t make me feel any differently about him. I had made the right decision, leaving him. And all the unfulfilling vanilla sex in the world wouldn’t put me back under Michael’s uncaring and sloppy control.

However, there was still the matter of what other men couldn’t give me. I couldn’t go back to the way it was before. Before I had learned things about myself. Before I met Gibson Reeves, and then Michael Weston.

Of course, there was no reason to want to go back to that place. I was lonely back then. Unsure of what I wanted. I had all of this pent-up energy and desire that had no place to settle, no path to follow. I had believed myself to be a woman on a mission. The only problem was, I didn’t know what that mission might be.

To be truthful with myself, I still wasn’t certain of my ultimate mission. Maybe I never would know, but I did have an idea of where I wanted to go in the near future.

I wanted to continue pursuing my foray into BDSM. There was so much for me to explore, so much to learn about myself and what was surely still hidden inside me.

When I had first come on my vacation, straight from the awful events at Michael’s apartment, I had thought that maybe it was time for me to end my journey. After nearly being raped with a beer bottle, I was shaken up, and blamed myself for much of what happened.

Soon, though, I realized that I was more angry than afraid, more disgusted at the actions of others, and less focused on what I had done, or what I hadn’t done. If I let their actions drive me away, then I stood to lose what little I had gained.

So I performed my experiments with the willing Josh. I learned that I could take control if necessary, make things happen the way I wanted them to, like I had done between the hedgerow and the dark courtyard. It had been good for me. But I knew it could be better.

I knew what I really wanted, what drove me wild. Had there really been any question of it since the moment Gibson Reeves had taken me in the hallway of that bar a month and a half before? No, not really.

I needed a man who could take control. And not just any man.

I learned with Michael that it needed to be the right man. A man who would take control and accept that I needed to retain enough of it to protect myself.

I simply needed to choose my next partner more wisely.

Once I was home, that was exactly what I would do. I would throw off society’s conventions. I would seek out what pleased me, would find my pleasure and I wouldn’t confuse a mind-blowing orgasm with love.

I would search for a casual partner, or more than one. I would find those I could trust, but take care only to bestow that trust once it was earned.

I could give up control and retain it at the same time, could play the game by my own rules. I had the final say.

After my experience with Michael, I wouldn’t forget that, ever again.

 

Chapter 2

 

I was only home a few days when I got my first opportunity to put my new resolutions into action.

Tuesday, after work, I had just walked into my apartment when my cell phone rang. It was Elaine Hoyte, a new friend who was quickly becoming a favorite. She and her husband, Ron, owned a chain of retail stores that was headquartered in the city. Both of them were older than me, in their early 40s. Elaine had become my confidante and adviser in all things BDSM.

She said, “Hey there, Nonnie. Welcome home. How’s it going?”

I read between the lines, knowing she was asking more than the usual question. I had called her when I was on vacation, and told her about my split with Michael. I didn’t give her the details about what went down, preferring to keep that information private, but I let her know that I believed Michael and I didn’t suit one another. Her question about how everything was going was her way of asking me if I was okay with the breakup.

I answered, “I’m fine. Really. I feel good. Ready to move on.”

I could hear the smile in her voice. “Good for you.”

We chatted for a few minutes, small talk about my vacation, about her work and husband, that sort of thing.

Then Elaine said, “I was hoping I could ask you a favor, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes.”

“Okay. I won’t. Ask.”

“Well, first off, I know you just broke up with Michael, so maybe you need some more time to lick your wounds.”

I answered firmly. “I don’t need more time. I’m done with him.”

“All right then. I’m glad. He wasn’t ever going to be a man for the long haul, anyway.”

I was surprised. This was the first time Elaine had said anything negative about Michael, assuming that she considered his inability to commit to be a fault. “You’re right. So what’s this favor? Have you got somebody you want to set me up with?”

“No, no, not that.”

I was disappointed. Damn. That could have made my life easier. “Okay. So what’s the favor?”

“Well, you see …”

She followed with a lengthy explanation. Apparently, for their latest anniversary, Elaine had given her husband, Ron, a perfect BDSM gift: a fantasy scenario that she herself had devised for him, and that she would perform with him in one of the viewing rooms at the BDSM club, Private Residence.

I couldn’t keep from laughing when she described what kind of scene it was. It was classic Hoyte: fun and sexy at the same time. It was nothing at all like the first scene I had watched them perform at the club, the one where a hooded and inhuman-looking Ron worked over a blonde woman with a rod while Elaine assisted in the role of slave.

Knowing them now the way that I did, it seemed like that was a different couple back then. But I was learning that people aren’t simple, that desires can vary in vastly different ways, one moment leaning one way, and the next another.

Elaine told me that everything was in place for their scene this coming Friday night at the club. She had all the props, had coached the two other women who would join the performance. And then disaster struck.

One of the women who was to perform had been called out of town because of a death in the family. There would be no way that she could return by Friday night, or that she would even be in the mood for such a thing if she could get back in time.

Elaine needed a replacement, and that’s what the favor was about.

“I thought of you right away, honey,” she said. “You’re single now. And you know how Ron favors you. And I don’t know how you feel about him, but I don’t think you’re opposed to him anyway …”

She trailed off.

I smiled. This was perfect. It was as if everything was falling into place. This was precisely the sort of thing I was looking for: a chance to stretch myself with people I trusted. I definitely trusted Elaine. She had been a good friend to me, had tried to guide me when I didn’t realize how much I needed guiding.

As for her husband, Ron, I hadn’t spent a lot of time with him, but I liked him during the times we had spent together. He was a jokester sort, and attractive in a big man kind of way. I couldn’t say he was my usual type, but I didn’t find him unappealing, either. His very size and burliness drew a physical response from me.

Elaine and Ron were crazy in love with each other, but they both liked to share, and I knew from experience how confident they were in their relationship, how they broke the normal rules of monogamy, and made it work for them.

I admired that, very much. Hoped one day I might find something like that for myself, if not the sharing part, then certainly the confidence in the connection.

Doing a scene with them would be fun and safe, and sexy, too, I was certain. And it would be in a public room at the club. I no longer denied my desire to do sexy things in public. I embraced it.

I said, “Of course I’m not opposed to Ron. I’ll do it.”

Elaine gave a happy hurray, and a relieved sigh. “You’re a treasure. Really. I hated to disappoint Ron. He’s been lookin’ forward to this for almost a month. Things kept coming up and getting in the way. I really, really didn’t want to let him down again.”

I appreciated her warmth. “I’m happy to help. It sounds like fun.”

“Oh,” she said, “honey, it will be.”

We agreed to meet the next evening at one of their favorite bars to go over the details together. The other woman in the scene would be there as well. In the meantime, Elaine would email me her script, such as it was.

When I opened her email a short while later, I was relieved to learn that her script was more of a description of what would be happening. It would play out similar to a silent movie, mostly acting through gestures. She also made some posters that could be displayed for the audience where words were necessary for understanding, or for amusement.

I was excited to be part of it, thought it was pretty hot, and at other times, downright funny. I looked forward it.

The next night, everyone was already at the bar when I arrived. It was mostly a quiet place, with a relaxed crowd and soft music, small groups of people at the tables enjoying their conversations.

Ron and Elaine hugged me, and I shook hands with the pretty woman who played a key role, more key than my own, in our little scene. Her name was Patsy, and she was close to Elaine’s age, thirty-something, petite like Elaine, though not as ripe-figured.

I hit it off with Patsy right away, her manner as good-natured as the Hoytes’. Ron called the waitress over to get me a drink, then we settled down to talking about how everything would unfold on Friday night.

A few times while we talked, Ron caught my eye. When he winked at me, I smiled. Elaine noticed and winked at me, too. They were a pair, to be sure.

We had been hard at it for nearly an hour when I excused myself to go to the restroom. I followed Elaine’s directions and headed around a corner and back to the rear of the building. I sighted the opening to the hall when my eyes were drawn to the right.

I don’t know what drew my eye over to that side of the room. I only wished it hadn’t.

My glance fell on a tall, handsome man, kicked back in a booth, his long dark hair brushing his shoulders.

Michael, oh-hell, Weston.

And his pale blue, wolf eyes were looking straight back at me.

I stiffened, made a quick nod of acknowledgement, then turned away, ignoring his grin and the way he sat up straight, getting to his feet, I presumed. I strode quickly into the short hallway and secreted myself behind the door of the ladies restroom.

I found an open stall and hid myself inside it. Oh God.

The second I met that man’s eyes I felt a tumbling sensation going from my chest all the way down to my feet. I hated that feeling, the body’s recognition of a former lover, followed by the brain’s reminder that he was lover no more.

It was too soon. I didn’t want to have to see him so soon. Bad luck. Bad, bad luck.

I registered something that I hadn’t noticed in the midst of my sight and flight. There had been a woman sitting next to Michael in the booth.

She was a blonde woman, very thin with striking features, like a fashion model. She perched on her seat in a skin-tight red dress that perfectly matched her lipstick. Her pert nose was raised in the air, as she managed, somehow, in spite of her lower position, to look down her nose at me as I passed.

So, I was already replaced, and by some jealous, beautiful bitch, no less. I waited for another cascade of thuds to roll down me, but it never came. Not one single thud.

Hallelujah. It really was over. There were no regrets, nothing to make me wish to have him back. I was glad he had a new lover. Relieved.

As pleasing as these revelations were, the likelihood that Michael would pounce on me the second I left the restroom still loomed large in my mind as something I would rather avoid.

Why couldn’t breakups be clean affairs? You split up, then you never see the person again. That’s how it should be, but never was.

I stiffened my back. Well, it wasn’t like I had anything to be ashamed of. He was the one who should be ashamed … and probably wasn’t.

If he didn’t accept a polite brush-off, then I’d get nasty. That’s of course, if he were waiting for me outside.

I knew he was. I always knew.

I finished my business, taking my time washing my hands and fussing with my hair, more to put off the inevitable than out of any concern for my appearance.

Before I left, I had an idea and pulled out my cell phone. I shot off a quick text to Elaine that read: “Michael in bar. If not back in few minutes, come rescue. Please.”

I opened the restroom door.

Sure enough. There he was, leaning against the wall opposite the door, his long dark hair pushed behind his ears. He looked casual as usual, wearing the flirty grin that used to make me shiver in anticipation.

I said, “Michael,” then tried to walk past him.

No such luck. He reached out and grabbed my upper arm, pulling me back to stand in front of him. I yanked at my arm, but he held me tightly, the damnable grin on his face all the while.

I said, “Let me go.”

“No.”

I lowered my voice. “Unless you want your next words to be, ‘I’m sorry, Officer, please don’t arrest me,’ then you’d best let go right now.”

That wiped the grin off his face. He released me. A split second of anger crossed his features.

I rubbed my arm. It hurt. I considered giving him a retaliatory kick in the groin, then thought better of it and turned to march away.

Behind me, he said, “I didn’t think you were a vindictive person, Nonnie.”

Like an idiot, I rose to the bait. I turned and faced him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I told you how sorry I was about what happened. How fucking bad I feel about it all. I thought if I gave you some space that you’d come around … but you’re not going to forgive me, are you?”

“It’s not just about that one night.”

“Then I don’t understand. What’s it all about? Why won’t you give me a chance to make it up to you?”

I took a deep, steadying breath, “I said it all the night I left. We’re not right for each other. I’ve moved on. And it looks like you have, too.”

His brows lowered. “Are you talking about Amber? The woman I’m with? She’s nothing. Some fluff I picked up for a night or two, that’s all. I’ll send her away if you want. Or even better, we can play with her together and then we’ll send her away.”

I could only stare at him.

He stepped closer to me, leaned in and said, “I know that somewhere in that beautiful body there’s a part of you that wants to forgive me, to give me another chance.”

I shook my head, dumbfounded by his audacity. I reconsidered the option of kicking him in the groin.

He misread me completely. He leaned in even closer and asked, “Who are you here with? Blow them off and come home with me.”

A loud voice boomed out behind me. “She’s here with me, Weston. You wanna wrestle for her?”

I turned. It was Ron. He had a big smile on his face that intended to take the threat out of his statement. All you had to do, though, was look in his eyes to see that it wouldn’t take much to make the threat real.

I blew out a relieved breath. I loved Elaine so much in that moment, adored her for sending Ron to rescue me, for knowing that he was the right person for the job.

Ron kept smiling, holding out a hand to a flummoxed-looking Michael. “How ya doin’, Weston? Haven’t seen you since the night of the fancy ball.”

Michael got himself together quickly and shook Ron’s hand. “I think you’re right. Been keeping busy?”

“Yep, yep. Always do.”

Ron held out an arm to me and I accepted it gratefully, resting my hand on his thick forearm.

He said, “Well, hate to have to run, but Elaine sent me to fetch Nonnie for her. Probably got some gossip that won’t wait. You know women.”

Michael sent a level look at me and said, “I think I do.”

Ron laughed and whacked Michael on the back, driving Michael a few steps forward. “Good to see ya. Don’t be a stranger, now.”

And then Ron ushered me out of the hall, leaving Michael behind to stew in whatever feelings he had about the situation.

I could have kissed Ron, my big, beefy hero, saving me from a potential charge of testicular assault with a well-aimed foot.

He looked down at me and winked. I smiled up at him. He patted my hand then we strolled together back to our table. He even pulled my chair out for me after we arrived. If I didn’t already have a fondness and something of an attraction to Ron, I damned sure would have had both after what he just did for me.

Elaine raised her eyebrows.

I said, “Thank you, so much. You two are the best.”

Elaine waved off my thanks. “It was nothin’, honey.”

Ron asked, “He didn’t threaten you or anything, did he?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just don’t want to rehash everything with him. I want to move on. That’s all.”

They nodded their understanding. I glanced at Patsy, who had been studiously, and politely  pretending that she wasn’t hearing a word we were saying. I caught her eye, gave a small shake of my head.

I said, “Exes.”

She nodded. “I hear you.”

And with that, to my great relief, everyone went back to talking about Friday night. I set aside further thoughts of Michael and joined the discussion. There was still much to settle and I wanted to play my part right. I wanted Friday night to be perfect for my fine friends.

When we were all talked out, and as ready as we were likely to get, Ron and Elaine escorted me to my car without saying a word about why they were attending me. They made it seem a natural thing.

I drove away thinking that I should be grateful to Michael for one thing: he had introduced me to the Hoytes. And then I had an awful thought. What if Michael were at Private Residence on Friday? What if I saw him in the audience? How would that be?

Ron and Elaine said they had spread the word around that they were putting on a show Friday night, and they had reserved the display room with the most viewing rooms for the event. They expected quite a crowd.

What if Michael were part of that crowd?

I would ignore him, I told myself. No reason for him to make me uncomfortable. He’d simply be one more spectator. Nothing more than that.

And if Michael really were still interested in me, and if the sight of me doing my thing in that public room left him hot and bothered with no chance of easing himself on me, well then, it would serve him right. It wouldn’t hurt him to be taken down a notch or two.

Geez, I thought, maybe I really was a vindictive person. Just not in the way Michael imagined.

I smiled the rest of the way home.

 

 

“I need to breathe, you know!” I fussed at Elaine, who was in the process of trying to zip up my costume.

Elaine made a grunting sound as she tugged on the zipper. “You look great, and you know it. Quit complaining. My corset is way worse than this. There! Good enough.”

I looked down and laughed, which didn’t last for long since I didn’t actually have enough available air to waste on hilarity.

I wore a preposterously tight nurse’s outfit, all white of course. It was the kind of uniform you’d never see a real nurse wearing, unless it was Halloween and she wasn’t at work. Elaine had squeezed me into the tiny thing, up past my hips and waist, but couldn’t get the zipper up over my breasts, so she just stopped trying and left it stuck in place at the base of my breastbone.

Elaine admired me. “Now that’s some pretty fine cleavage.”

I said, “That’s not cleavage. That’s public indecency.”

Elaine laughed. “Like I said, pretty fine.”

I tried to chuckle but gave it up for a lost cause. At least the fabric had some stretch in it, so I’d be able to move my arms. Not only were my boobs falling out of the thing and the plackets barely covering my nipples, but the dress was so short that if I bent over at all, I’d be flashing what small bit of modesty I had left.

It was okay, though. I liked it. I even liked the silly little nurse’s cap that Elaine pinned on my head, and the pair of heels that were way too high for me. You didn’t walk in heels like these. You pranced.

Elaine, Patsy and I had been shut up for a half hour in the dressing/recovery room of our reserved display room at Private Residence, getting ready for our scene.

Elaine was dressed like me, in a nurse’s outfit, only she had a lovely white lace corset on underneath her uniform. Patsy was playing a patient, so she was wearing nothing but a paper smock, tied at the back. At least one of us would be able to breathe.

Elaine gave herself a last look-over in the mirror, then declared us all ready for the show. I took a steadying breath and followed her through the door into the display room.

Ron was already inside, waiting for us. He looked good in his doctor get-up, though I never knew a doctor to sport a pair of tight leather pants when he was on duty. Ron did wear the traditional white doctor’s jacket, though, complete with dangling stethoscope.

His dark brown hair was appropriately messy. He had somehow managed to make his beard look a bit scruffy, when it was normally trimmed and neat looking. Ron was the burliest-looking doctor I had ever seen, like a professional wrestler playing dress-up.

He gave a low appreciative whistle as he watched the three of us parade out of the dressing room. We did a few quick curtsies then went to our assigned posts.

It was a fairly large room, too large really for what Elaine wanted, so she had set up white screens to make the space smaller and to hide most of the room’s normal equipment. With the remaining empty space, she ran some dividers partially down the diagonal center, giving the impression of two rooms, while at the same time not obscuring the sight line of the spectators in the surrounding viewing rooms.

Ron was seated at a cluttered desk in one of the faux rooms, obviously a representation of a doctor’s office. The other room was dominated by a big exam table, a stool, some carts on wheels loaded with phony medical equipment, and a screen in one corner which Patsy was currently hiding behind. It was a decent enough version of a medical examination room.

All the curtains to the viewing rooms were closed at the moment. There were ten viewing rooms in total, five each on two sides. When I had been in one of the viewing rooms with Michael, I hadn’t realized that there were curtains on both sides of the big plate glass windows.

When we were ready to begin, Elaine would push a button on the wall that would open all of our curtains to the audience. My stomach flip-flopped when I thought about how many people might be waiting behind those windows.

I took my post off to one side, next to an easel that displayed a tidy stack of big poster boards, all turned white-side out. Elaine stationed herself at the far wall and gave us all a questioning look. Were we ready?

I nodded. We had done a rushed rehearsal before we got dressed, really just doing an overview, since we were saving the good stuff for the show. I was as ready as I was going to be.

Patsy poked her head out from behind the screen and waved her hand. Ron nodded.

Elaine flipped on the music. It was a tinny, light tune that was meant to recall the days of silent films and the accompanying piano music. Elaine kept the volume pretty low, just meaning the music to be a subtle touch in the background.

She smiled wide and hit the button to open the curtains. I stood up straight and stuck out my boobs. They didn’t really need to be stuck out, but what the hell.

The curtains slid open. Oh my. The Hoytes had outdone themselves in their promotional efforts. Most of the viewing rooms were filled to capacity, with at least seven or eight people in each one. A sweeping glance told me the least-filled room had four people in it, two couples who were already lip-locked with one another.

There had to have been at least sixty people in total. Wow. Okay then. A thrill shot through me. Time to get this baby started.

I picked up the first poster board and turned it toward the audience, then began a slow and sultry walk past the windows, or at least as sultry as I could manage in my crazy heels. I hoped my big smile might make up for what my walk lacked.

The sign I was holding read, “A Doctor’s Work Is Never Done.”

The main purpose of my stroll, apart from making sure everyone read the title of the show, was to give the audience time to settle down and find their seats before we began. I completed my leisurely tour without breaking my neck, and without making eye contact with anyone in the big crowd. Coward, I thought, then slid the board back in behind the others.

I kept my post while Elaine and Ron went into action. Dr. Ron acted like he was ready to leave the office for the day, removing his stethoscope and pulling up a briefcase from behind the desk. Nurse Elaine strolled into his office and made an “oh no” face and shook her finger at him. No, her actions said, Dr. Ron couldn’t go home yet.

She pointed in the direction of the exam room, clearly showing that Dr. Ron had one more patient to attend to.

Dr. Ron shook his head firmly. No, no more patients. But Elaine wouldn’t take no for an answer. She pulled on his huge arm, an amusing sight since Elaine was tiny next to her husband. She pointed repeatedly to the exam room, waved her hand in the air, created a big silent fuss that meant Dr. Ron was not getting out of seeing the patient.

He had no choice but to give in. He shrugged, frowned, gave an exaggerated silent sigh, then put his briefcase away and reached down for his stethoscope.

I picked up the next poster board and turned it around, waggling it to get the audience’s attention. It read, “Oh no! Overtime! Again!”

While Dr. Ron made a show of how very much he didn’t want to see another patient, Elaine trotted into the exam room and pulled Patsy out from behind the screen. Patsy crawled up onto the exam table in such a way as to ensure everyone would see her bare ass peeking out from the gaps between the ties of her gown. She seated herself daintily on the end of the table.

Dr. Ron slowly and begrudgingly made his way up to the table. He squinted at his patient, then went through a half-hearted exam, checking her pulse, looking in her ears, that sort of thing. When he finished, he held up a thumb, giving her the okay sign, then made as if he were returning to his office.

Elaine grabbed his arm, and pantomimed back to the patient. She whispered in his ear. Ron looked dubious for a moment, then turned back to his patient.

I turned over another card. It read, “Another Damned Breast Exam.”

Dr. Ron stood so he wasn’t blocking the view of the proceedings and in a display of frustration for being forced to work against his will, he reached down and tore the paper smock right down the middle, baring Patsy’s breasts in the process.

Patsy gave a dramatic gasp and Elaine’s eyes went wide in shock.

Dr. Ron began his “exam,” which was basically some serious heavy fondling. Patsy had a pair of pretty, perky breasts. Ron squeezed them and poked at them, tweaked and pulled at her nipples until Patsy moaned.

Nurse Elaine, meanwhile, watched it all with great interest, an interest that only grew as the examination progressed. She sidled around to his side of the table and rubbed up against his back. Ron ignored her.

At this point, I went into action as well, and shot an aroused look at the goings-on. I stroked my breasts lightly, squeezed myself some, and began edging toward the exam room.

Elaine went further in her attempt to get in on the action. She pulled one of Dr. Ron’s hands away from Patsy and closed it over her seriously bountiful bosom.

Dr. Ron turned to her, an annoyed look on his face. He pulled his hand away and shook a finger in Elaine’s face. She gave him a pleading look, but it was no use. Ron returned to his exam of the now loudly-moaning Patsy.

I sidled up into the scene, and pressed myself against Ron’s back, mashing my breasts against him while Elaine did the same to his arm. We both tried to pull his hands away from Patsy, but he fought us, and wouldn’t do what we wanted.

We kept at it, though, until he finally lost patience with us and turned around to face us. He firmly pushed us away and gave a firm head shake of “no.” Elaine and I pleaded with our eyes, each of us reaching for one of his hands, and trying to get him to touch our chests.

He couldn’t take anymore. We had gone too far. He made a “that’s it” motion with his hands, then reached out and unzipped Elaine’s dress, her bare breasts spilling out.

He reached over to me and because of my situation with the tight dress, had some trouble getting the zipper to budge. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Finally, he muscled through it, moving the zipper far enough that he could yank down the sleeves of my dress to fully reveal my breasts.

He held up four fingers and glared at us. We looked penitent and nodded with big, wide eyes.

Ron reached out and squeezed one of Elaine’s breasts, lightly ran his fingers over her flesh. Elaine gave a big dramatic sigh.

With his other hand, he did the same to one of my breasts. I sighed happily, too, And it wasn’t an act. It felt pretty damned good, actually.

Then … smack! He slapped Elaine’s breast. And … smack! He slapped mine.

We both cried out louder than the pain warranted. It did sting, though, I had to admit.

He reached for our other breasts. Smack, smack! He delivered the second blow.

Then back where he started. Smack! Smack!

Elaine and I cried out in unison.

Smack! Smack! The fourth and final blows for each of us.

Dr. Ron turned his glare full on me, shook a castigating finger in my face then pointed to my post by the easel.

I hung my head and shuffled away, but made sure my expression conveyed that I was secretly thrilled by his sexy abuse.

Dr. Ron was still shaking his finger at Elaine, who wasn’t even trying to look like she was sorry, when I grabbed up and displayed the next poster card.

It read, “Let that be a lesson to you, naughty nurses!”

 

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