E.G. Saunders took the thriller genre, blindfolded it, bent it over, and f*cked it hard. It's the same feeling his main character got when he was enticed—or was it threatened?—by a dominant, seemingly crazed beauty, into a story that will have you clutching your privates. And whether that's out of fear or pleasure is up to you.
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Chapter 5
So, I spilled my guts.
She wanted to know who I knew in the industry. The important people. The small people. Some in between.
There were a few people I didn’t mention. My brain wasn’t so soaked in rum that I couldn’t keep a few secrets. Sexy fucking Candy just sat on the bed occasionally touching her stomach, occasionally letting her fingers slide lower to distract me…
What was I saying?
Oh, yeah. She knew what she was doing was all. She knew how to keep a man’s attention and even a woman’s. I remember talking to Stacy Drip, yes, that was her name. Wettest girl in the biz and the least creative as far as names went.
Stacy had worked with Candy before on a girl on girl. Stacy was one of those fake lesbians who would start off kissing another woman’s pussy only to quickly distance herself from it with the farthest extent of her tongue. Slow, light touches using only the tip—all the while moaning as if it was the best thing in the world. And then she would swiftly bring up her fingers and circle the woman’s clit and smile and moan some more.
Any self-respecting porn connoisseur—male or female—would burn a woman like that at the stake. At the very least, bill her for the agonizing waste of time she put you through watching her.
A pussy was meant to be eaten with a full mouth. Eating pussy..
Um…sorry, Candy again…
Eating pussy is not a distance sport. You trail and tease with the tongue—the whole tongue, sides, tip, underside and top. You develop a flavor for the whole woman in front of you. And when she’s ready, you tease a little more. After she’s begging, you cover her fully, as if you were giving her mouth-to-mouth and her very life depended on you.
Fingers come in only to assist the mouth and tongue.
That is all.
Anything less than full involvement is sacrilege.
Watching porn with a Stacy performing is frustrating, even infuriating and godless. “Stacys” worked for Satan, in my book.
At any rate, Stacy was telling me about her scene with Candy. She was giving Candy her normal treatment when all of a sudden Candy grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her in tight and wouldn’t let go. Candy wrapped her legs around Stacy’s shoulders to control her further. They were strong legs.
At first Stacy resisted, but then something came over her, and she served Candy like a mistress deserved. Her words. After that, Stacy found herself willingly submissive and attentive. Stacy said she would do anything for Candy.
And that’s where I was after spilling my guts. Candy didn’t have to move to pull my attention, but she did it anyway. I was all eyes. All. I devoured Candy like she…like she was meant to be devoured.
Yes. I’m weak. But I’m strong enough to admit that.
Candy took all my information, names, dates—as well as I could remember, which wasn’t all that good—hair color, weight, even scent.
“Scent?”
“Yes,” Candy said. She then took a second to lightly rub the flesh between her leg and her pussy, you know, that soft part that can be so ticklish sometimes. She brought her fingers up to my nose, letting me inhale it, then she pressed down on my top lip to leave her scent with me.
“Scent,” Candy said. “You know what that is. Now, what did they smell like? Any kind of scent you can remember.”
It was very hard to pull myself from the scent on my upper lip. Quite honestly, her scent could bring me to kill under the right circumstances…
Oh please, don’t act like you couldn’t be brought there. Men and woman have been doing this sort of thing to each other throughout history. Candy could’ve started some wars, easily.
Right now I was warring with my memory. I didn’t want to leave her scent. Eventually, I did, but it was not a warm, pleasant place I went. My memories of the scent of some of these people were bathed in sour sweat and pepperoni mouth, shoe stink and farts.
Candy absorbed it all greedily, rewarding me now and then with trailing fingers to her perfect nipples.
Damn. I was doomed.
Candy knew it, too.
She knew a lot of things, it turned out.
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Chapter 6
Candy stopped me when she saw that I was repeating myself. I knew I was doing it, but more after the fact than during.
I was tired, and my buzz was wearing off. My dick was sore and so was my jaw. She had done a job on me in more ways than one. More than anything else, I was simply getting tired of hearing my own voice.
I jumped when Candy got up from her position. I swear I only looked away for a second, and there she was—very close to me. That bothered me. That made me afraid of her. She could have done things to me in that second.
I suppose I had just suffered from retention of vision or something. One moment she was curled on her side facing me, her hand always moving, lightly touching her curves and valleys. I only looked away because my neck was getting sore from having been in one place staring at her for so long.
And then she was near me. She was on her hands and knees, low and catlike. She drew closer, and I think I mumbled something. She sat up straighter and smiled at me. I didn’t like that smile.
Things get a little blurry here. Christ! There was just so much happening. I was reeling inside. I had been stimulated from a lot of different angles recently and honestly didn’t know which way was up.
I didn’t like that I was afraid of this woman. She was in control of something base in me, and I had no idea what she was going to do with that control.
In truth, I wanted her. I fucking wanted to have this woman stimulate me daily. Nightly. All the time. I wanted to bend her over the bed and fuck her until she was black and blue.
I wanted her sex, and, yes, a part of me actually wanted her to control me. There, I said it.
I wasn’t like that normally. I would give and take in relationships, but I always held my own as my own. No one was going to push me where I didn’t want to go. Drunks are like that. Control allows us access to the next bottle, the next high. Give up that control and you give up…you give up your life.
Not a great life, I’ll admit. But it was mine. And it wasn’t all that bad.
So no, I didn’t give up control a lot. I like to be able to get a handle on things that could affect my consistent routine. I work, I play, I drink. If I have a relationship, she has to fit in the play or the drink arena. Disrupt either one of those, and I give my middle finger salute and move on to someone else.
But Candy was more than my just giving up control. She was a mystery. And a fucking good one at that!
I couldn’t figure her out, and I wanted to do that almost more than I wanted another drink.
“Why do you want all this? What’s in it for you?” I asked, finally able to slip in some courage. The look in her eye told me that I hadn’t asked permission to utter that question.
But fuck it. I imagine that if she were to stab me for asking a question, at least I’d get some rest in the hospital. Or the morgue. Either way, I was irritated enough to think I had control for once, and I was going to use it before it went away.
I’m not saying my breath didn’t catch in my throat when she looked at me that way—it did—but I had a problem that went all the way back to my childhood: I was stubborn, and I didn’t know when to shut up.
“Well? You gonna answer? Or…something?” I knew I was pushing it.
I saw a flash of anger light up the back of her eyes, but that quickly turned into something else. She started laughing.
Now I was hurt.
She didn’t find me a threat at all.
Candy quickly reached out and grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into a kiss. I jumped, scared as shit, but recovered enough to give in to the kiss.
Then Candy shoved me away from her, and I nearly fell off the bed. I wasn’t anywhere as graceful as she was, but I managed not to make a complete ass of myself and kept my balance.
“I’m going to go,” Candy said, getting up and moving to her bag. She pulled out a long, flowery dress that looked more like a slip to me. She slid it on over her head, without a care as to what I was doing.
I started to get angry.
“What the fuck?” I said. “That’s it? That’s it?”
Even with Candy’s head turned, I could see she was smiling. Laughing on the inside. That didn’t help my anger.
I got off the bed and walked over to stand a few feet away from her, unconsciously blocking the path for her to the door. Maybe it wasn’t so unconscious. I didn’t want her to leave.
“I want some answers now,” I said. “You tell me things.”
Candy was busy putting up her hair. It wasn’t terribly long, just covering her neck. She drew it into a little ponytail and tied it off with a band she had also pulled from her bag.
My God, she looked good. There was something about the way that dress fit over her form. It rested on her. That was it. Rested on her as if it were a gentle mist. It was thin, and I knew that I would be able to feel the heat of her body radiate through that material. Just knew it. And it started to make my cock hard.
I looked away for a second, doing my best to mentally slap my dick down. It wasn’t going to win this fight.
Candy was looking right back at me with a little twinkle in her eyes. She had slid some hair clips in place and I was shocked at how different she looked.
It wasn’t just her hair. It was her posture. It was the slight crinkle of her eyes and deceptively pleasant rise in her cheeks. It was her smile that raised her ears just a little higher.
I was too dumbfounded to say anything.
Even my dick had stopped what it was doing, too confused to know which direction to point.
Candy then looked around the place, as if making sure she hadn’t left anything behind. She inhaled, satisfied.
I was satisfied watching her inhale.
Truly.
Then, in one swipe she picked her bag off the floor and had it around her shoulder.
She walked up to me, this respectable-looking beauty that could have just come from church and not the filthiest parts of my imagination.
She kissed me lightly on the cheek. “I’ll see you again. Show you things, maybe.”
She moved around me on her way to the door.
“If you’re worthy, Gail,” Candy said, turning the knob. “And you don’t die between now and then.”
With that, she went out the door and closed it behind her.
I couldn’t think.
I was afraid.
I was turned on more than I thought possible.
And I was afraid.
I looked back to my place.
She had left the stiletto on the floor.
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
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