Desires
Page 1
DESIRES
Holly J. Gill
Nikki Blaise
Erotic Romance
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
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A Secret Cravings Publishing Book
Erotic Romance
DESIRES
Copyright © 2012 Holly J Gill/Nikki Blaise
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-414-8
First E-book Publication: December 2012
Cover design by Dawne Dominique
Edited by Julie Reilly
Proofread by Marja Salmon
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Secret Cravings Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
The Cravings e-book Club
The Cravings Paranormal e-book Club
Have you heard about the newest idea in ebooks, the ebook club? Secret Cravings Publishing has started two ebook clubs and we invite you to become a member of either The Cravings e-book Club or the Cravings Paranormal e-book Club. Join now and get two books absolutely free!
As a member, you will receive Taming The Cougar* by Sandy Sullivan and Hunting Jaguar** by D. McEntire FREE, just for joining!
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*Taming the Cougar, a western, erotic romance:
Marla isn't looking for love or anything else from a man. Can Marla put aside her distrust of men for a younger man? Can Chris convince her he's not like other guys?
*Hunting Jaguar, paranormal erotic romance:
Rachel Hayes' father set out to prove the existence of the Miloni temple and the Jaguar people. Tumi is a descendant of the Miloni race and is sworn to protect their secret with his life. Will he be forced to uphold his vow at the cost of his heart and Rachel's life?
As a member of the Cravings Club, you’ll receive 4 books in a variety of genres every month. We will try to match your books to your preferences, however, if you’re a major paranormal fan, I suggest you join the Cravings Paranormal Club. Everything is the same, 4 books every month for $9.99 except that 3 of your 4 books will be paranormal. The remaining book will be of a different genre.
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We hope our Secret Cravings books will delight you each and every month.
Best wishes,
Beth Walker
Dedication
Thank you to my wonderful husband Nigel and my three fantastic children, Rhys, Victoria and Alisha for allowing me to write. Love you all with my heart.
Thank you to my friends, Sonia and Donna, for believing in me and prompting me to fulfil my dream when there were dark days. Your support has been wonderful.
And a special thank you to Nikki Blaise.
DESIRES
Holly J. Gill
Nikki Blaise
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Stacie walked up the three wide steps leading to the large entrance porch of the imposing Georgian building. The bitter winter air made her nose hairs cringe and seemed to batter its way in between the buttons of her thick wool coat. She took a deep anxious breath wondering, not for the first time, why on earth she was there. She glanced back at the car park, overhung by snow-clad trees. Her little car glimmered in the pale light of the winter moon. She could just walk back to the still-warm haven and drive away. But her feet wouldn’t obey the sensible part of her brain that told her to go, and go now! The snappy wind blew her hair into her face. She brushed it away and turned her attention back to the innocent-looking door.
There was an intercom situated on the right hand side of the old oak double doors. Her life had to change—she knew that. She had to try, or she’d be forever wondering.
Stacie stepped further onto the porch and glanced at her reflection in the darkened glass pane inset into the door. She tried to peer through, but could see nothing. It’s like the privacy glass on celebrity limousines, she thought, then shrugged. She fumbled in her handbag, and brought out her lip gloss, applying a quick sweep. It did nothing to calm the expression of trepidation on the face she saw reflected back to her, but at least now she had shiny lips. She tried to gulp down the nervous lump in her throat, and pressed the buzzer.
There was a pause, then a woman’s voice came over the intercom. “Hello. How may I help you?”
She started to speak, but nothing came out of her suddenly tightened throat. She cleared it and tried again, whispering, “Stacie Clifford. I have an appointment.”
“Have you got your code?”
“Oh, um, yes, one second.”
Stacie began digging in her bag for her phone. She accessed her emails and found the reply they’d sent to her initial enquiry. She stared at the innocuous-looking four-digit code they’d included in the reply, and her stomach churned. Was it dread or excitement?
“Hello? Are you still there?”
The tinny voice brought her back. “Yes, sorry.” She read the code aloud to the woman and exhaled. It was done.
The door lock released. Stacie pushed on the heavy
door and walked through, letting it swing shut behind her. The welcome warmth of the establishment hit her cold face as she stared around, ingenuously open-mouthed. She stood in a large high-ceilinged hall. The floor was ancient satiny polished wood, probably the original flooring. The walls were decorated in a deep warm red, lined with huge oil paintings. Small tables bearing large houseplants were tucked into corners.
Stacie made her way down the hallway, her footfalls echoing in the passageway. Several oak doors led off the hall on each side. She wondered what lay behind them. Hopefully she would soon find out. Then her attention was caught by a large picture. As the subject matter registered, her mouth fell open again. It pictured a group of people having what could only be described as an orgy. They sat naked around a table laden with food and drink, some sitting and eating, others embracing each other, or sprawled on the floor, doing what came naturally. Gluttony and lust exemplified. Well, what had she expected?
The hallway opened out into a lobby. Two women in black business suits were seated behind a large reception desk. There was a waiting area opposite the desk with two large, black leather couches and a coffee table bearing a fan of leaflets and a flower arrangement.
Stacie edged toward the reception desk. The pit of her stomach ached. One of the receptionists was flirting into the phone and ignored her. The other looked at her with a welcoming smile and rose from her chair. She was a pretty woman in her early twenties with long dark hair tied in a high ponytail.
“Good evening, Stacie,” she said. “Angel will be with you shortly. Would you be good enough to fill out this questionnaire whilst you’re waiting, please?” Stacie wordlessly took the proffered clipboard, made her way to one of the leather couches and sat down.
“Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?” Stacie heard the receptionist ask.
“No, thank you, I’m fine,” she managed to say.
She gazed around the eighteenth-century reception area. Twin staircases with black iron spindles curved down into the reception area from a balcony above.
Situated to her right and left were two sets of double oak doors with massive black iron handles and hinges. She could see another set between the staircases far behind the reception desk, and a corridor led off behind the staircases to both sides.
Stacie turned her attention back to the questionnaire. The first few questions were straightforward, name, address etc., but she paused at the next set.
· Why do you wish to join the club?
· What do you want to gain from your experience?
· What are your sexual likes and dislikes?
Stacie didn’t know. She didn’t even know what kind of experience to expect here, let alone what she was going to gain from it. That was what she was here to find out, wasn’t it?
She scribbled quick vague answers. The questionnaire probably didn’t really matter anyway.
Between questions, she looked up at the receptionists, who were talking to each other in low voices. She tried to listen in on their conversation, but they were speaking too quietly.
The young receptionist glanced up and arched a perfectly threaded eyebrow. “Is everything okay?”
She blushed, caught eavesdropping. Not wanting them to know she was baffled, she lied. “Everything’s fine, thank you.” Feeling like a kid caught slacking in class, Stacie dropped her chastened gaze back to the questionnaire.
As she continued with her non-answers, Stacie still felt numb with astonishment that she was actually here. It had taken her months to gain the courage just to contact the club.
Anxiety struck her again in the pit of her stomach. Was she doing the right thing? What should she expect? Maybe when she spoke to Angel it would help her make a final decision.
Then, Stacie heard high heels tapping on the dark wood floor. She raised her head. The noise was coming from the corridor behind one of the staircases. The sound drew nearer and Stacie saw a woman appear—young, slim, twenty-something, with a shimmering sheet of black hair rippling down her back. She wore a formal business suit, and black-framed glasses perched on her finely-shaped nose, but even in the severe attire, she was stunning. She was tall and her height was further enhanced by her towering platform heels. Stacie shrank into herself. This woman was the epitome of confidence, everything she admired, yet lacked herself.
She looks frightening, dominating yet beautiful. Is this Angel?
The woman smiled at Stacie. Stacie forced her mouth into a terrified rictus back at her. She took a calm deliberate breath as the woman approached her.
“Hello. You must be Stacie Clifford?” Her voice was soft and calming.
Stacie gulped and gave a jerky nod.
“Lovely, I’m Angel. May I have your questionnaire and then, if you’d like to follow me, we can have a little chat somewhere more private.” She held out her hand and Stacie handed her the clipboard, feeling more nervous than ever.
Angel walked to the reception desk, stopping to have a few words with the receptionists.
Stacie pushed herself up, with difficulty, off the squashy leather couch that seemed to have swallowed her bottom. She straightened her clothes and followed Angel. She walked like a model, her perfectly-shaped derriere swaying hypnotically.
As they walked down the corridor, Stacie saw more raunchy paintings on the walls. These were far more in-your-face than the ones in the outer reception area. Whip-wielding dominatrices wearing black leather cupless corsets and crotchless thongs stood over their willing victims, who lay bound and naked awaiting their punishment. Small spotlights shone on each picture, highlighting them further. A large stained glass window was situated at the end of the corridor, an incongruous reminder of this building’s more dignified past.
They approached another of the ubiquitous wooden doors. “Come in, please. Take a seat,” Angel said, holding the door open for Stacie to follow her through.
Stacie entered the office and her eyes widened at the room’s surprisingly masculine decor. Dark panelling covered all the walls, illuminated by several small lights placed strategically throughout the room. A large, old, oak desk dominated the space, sitting against the far wall. The only nod to femininity was several vanilla candles, which scented the room with their subtle fragrance. The office was immaculate.
The desk held only a phone and a laptop. Behind it was a large leather swivel chair that looked as if it would swallow the slim woman.
Angel indicated a leather couch, a twin of those in the reception area. Stacie went to sit down and sank further than she expected. She shuffled her bottom forward unobtrusively—she hoped—before perching uncomfortably on the front of the sofa. She looked at Angel sitting on her leather swirl chair, wearing an amused look. Stacie wanted to cross her knees, but when she tried she found her body sinking back in the seat, so she was forced to plant her feet firmly on the floor just to stay upright. She could feel the strain in her thighs already.
As she waited for Angel to begin, she took a further furtive look around the room. Shelves lined one wall—a few were filled with books and the others held a display of erotic figurines in compromising positions. Stacie found herself twisting her head to figure out what one particular couple, no, threesome, were doing.
“Right then, Stacie.” Angel’s voice snapped her back. Stacie turned to see her looking at the clipboard, which she had placed on top of her closed laptop. Angel leaned forward over the desk, the posture deepening her already impressive cleavage. Stacie found herself wondering if she was wearing anything underneath the jacket. “I’ve ordered some drinks for us,” Angel said.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Stacie replied.
Angel’s sharp glance made her uncomfortable. “I insist. I want you to feel comfortable. I don’t bite,” Angel said. She paused and glanced down at the clipboard. Stacie swallowed. Angel looked back up at Stacie and smiled. “Okay, Stacie. Firstly, welcome to Desires. You know what our club does, so I don’t need to give you any details about that. Secondly,” she tapped Stacie’
s questionnaire with a long fingernail, “this is shit, and you know it.” Stacie flushed miserably. There was that back-at-school feeling again. Angel paused before continuing in a more gentle voice. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to upset you. But these questions,” she flourished the offending document, “are vital for me to give you the best experience of Desires I can, and your answers don’t really help me do that. I need to ask you, why are you here? What is it you are looking for?”
Stacie stared at her, dying with embarrassment, but knowing the awkward questions had to be asked. Maybe Angel would help.
“I am just wanting to…” Stacie paused to think hard about her answer. “I am looking for help in regaining my confidence in myself and in…in…” Say it, woman! “in…sex.”
Angel picked up a pen and wrote on Stacie’s questionnaire, after very obviously scoring through Stacie’s original answer. “What are your likes and dislikes?”
Stacie was unsure how to answer. “It depends what you offer me.”
“Well, we can come back to that one. So, you want to gain confidence in yourself and enjoy sex?” Stacie had barely begun to nod when a knock came at the door. She jumped and felt her pulse fluttering in her throat.
“Enter,” Angel called.
The young receptionist pushed open the door, balancing a tray bearing a bottle of white wine and two glasses. She placed the tray on the desk and poured a glass, before starting to pour a second.