After Hours

by Rochelle Alers

  Karla didn’t give him enough time to prepare for her sexual onslaught when she unzipped his slacks, released his erection and took him into her mouth. Eyes closed, head pressed to the headrest, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and gave in to the exquisite ecstasy that seemed to stop his heart before starting up again.

  Karla’s tongue and mouth communicated a silent, passionate message that said Ronald King belonged to her and it was only with her consent that other woman could sample the small pieces that he handed out like priceless gems.

  Her fingers tightened around the thick, blood-engorged length of flesh as she quickened her rhythm. The musky smell of him combined with the sensual scent of his cologne had become an aphrodisiac, heightening her desire. She struggled not to push her free hand between her own legs when she felt the gush of moisture bathe her core.

  The harsh, uneven rhythm of Ronald’s breathing echoed in the close confines of the SUV as he struggled not to come in Karla’s mouth. He tried pulling her head away, but she wouldn’t let him go.

  Broad shoulders heaving, his heart pumping painfully in his chest, he rose slightly off the leather seat and freed himself from the intense pleasure that had no way to go but outward.

  Karla moaned softly with the rush of semen filling her mouth. She waited until the pulsing under her fingers slowed, then stop altogether before she released Ronald’s still-hard penis. Straightening, she opened the glove box and took out a handful of tissues, spitting into the soft cotton. She took another handful and gave them to Ronald.

  He cleaned himself, rolled up the tissues and flung the wad at his wife. His hands were shaking when he attempted to adjust his slacks. “Fuck you, Karla King,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

  Karla knew Ronald was angry because he hadn’t wanted to ejaculate into her mouth. “That’s exactly what I want you to do. Now turn this truck around and take me home.”

  He punched the start button and shifted savagely into gear, retracing the route.

  Ronald hated when his wife took out her frustrations on him. She’d gone down on him because he was a man and right now she was angry with the men who worked with her. Sucking him until he came in her mouth had reaffirmed her power and control over all men who wouldn’t acknowledge her as their equal.

  What Karla couldn’t or didn’t want to understand was that he never viewed her as inferior. She’d earned three degrees to his two, spoke fluent French and made twice as much as he did. The only exception was physical strength. He was able to bench-press twice his body’s weight, while Karla hadn’t been able to lift more than fifty pounds. He thought he understood her, but it was apparent he didn’t know her at all, because she’d become a creature of extremes—physically, mentally and emotionally.

  Karla was out of the Escalade as soon as Ronald came to a complete stop. Quickening her pace, she made it to the front door. She was upstairs in the bedroom when he walked in.

  They stood motionless, staring at each other like strangers. Although married for six years, they still were strangers. Ronald didn’t understand his wife’s unceasing drive to prove herself and he knew she would never accept the aberrant sexual fantasies that emerged when he least expected.

  Reaching up, he unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it to the floor. He kicked off his shoes, then bent over to remove his socks. His gaze met and fused with hers when he removed his belt, slacks and boxers. He saw her gaze shift to the pile of clothes on the rug.

  Ronald knew she wanted him to pick them up, but he wouldn’t.

  Not now.

  Not tonight. His hand went to his groin, fingers caressing the heavy flesh between his thighs.

  A hint of a smile softened Karla’s wide mouth as she kicked off her mules. It had become a battle of wills, a dance of desire as she eased the tank top over her head, exposing her full breasts to Ronald’s heated gaze. Slowly, as if she were on stage seducing a room of horny men, she unzipped her pants and pushed them down her hips without bending her knees. Wearing nothing but a black thong, she turned and presented her husband with her back as she anchored her hands between the narrow elastic band, pushing it slowly down her thighs and legs.

  Ronald moved quickly, sweeping Karla up in his arms and carrying her to the bed. Holding her effortlessly in one arm, he swept back the comforter, placing her on the cool sheets, his body following hers down. Grasping her wrists, he anchored her hands against her body as he slid down the length of the bed to press his face to the apex of her thighs.

  It was his turn to exact revenge, to assert his power and control when he alternated suckling with nipping gently at the sensitive folds around her vagina. She screamed and arched off the bed when he captured her clitoris between his teeth, applying enough pressure to make her climax.

  Moving quickly, Ronald entered her and they breathed out a shared groan of pure pleasure. The walls of her vagina closed around him, pulling him in until he was mindless with the lust that imprisoned his mind and body. His hands were everywhere—her breasts, hips, face and hair.

  A moan of ecstasy slipped through Karla’s lips as she felt the onset of contractions that signaled she was going to climax. She tightened her vaginal muscles but to no avail. She couldn’t stop what had begun in the front seat of the Escalade and she couldn’t stop the screams of rapture building up in the back of throat; she opened her mouth when a spasm of erotic pleasure seized her, holding her prisoner for several seconds before she and Ronald climaxed simultaneously, their breathing coming in long, surrendering gasps.

  Karla languished in the weight pressing her down to the mattress, the smell of sex and an amazing sense of completeness. Her arms went around Ronald’s head as he pressed his mouth to her moist neck. She loved Ronald. He’d become her partner, the other half that made her whole.

  “I love you,” she whispered softly.

  A beat passed before he said, “I love you, too.”

  CHAPTER 36

  “Wake up, Dina. Open your eyes, honey.”

  Dina felt as if she were underwater, struggling vainly to get to the surface. Her eyelids fluttered before they closed again. At the nurse’s urging, she opened her eyes, and this time they remained open. A steady arm around her back assisted her sitting up.

  “How are you feeling, Dina?”

  She affected a lopsided smile for the nurse. “Okay.”

  A pair of friendly gray-blue eyes met hers. “Do you think you’ll be able to dress yourself?”

  “Yes-s-s,” Dina slurred.

  Anchoring a hand under her patient’s knees, the nurse guided her off the bed until she could stand on her own. “I’ll help you.”

  Dina responded like an automaton, raising her arms and lifting her feet when she permitted herself to be dressed as if she were a child. The day before she’d consulted a female OB-GYN, reporting that a difficult delivery of a large baby had left her stretched and torn during childbirth; a significant decrease in sexual pleasure had been the final result.

  She was referred to a surgeon specializing in labiaplasty and vaginoplasty. The office manger of the thriving Upper Saddle Brook practice quoted a fee of fifty-five hundred for the vaginoplasty; she informed Dina that Dr. Howe had a cancellation and could fit her in the following day.

  When Dina disclosed that she didn’t have insurance because she’d changed jobs, the fee was lowered to forty-five hundred. Her first impulse was to hang up, but she changed her mind. Having the procedure meant she would have to come up with even more money to meet Payne’s demand.

  Dr. Louis Howe peered at Dina Gordon over his glasses. “The procedure went very well, Ms. Gordon. I tightened your vagina, perineum and the supporting muscles. Once the anesthesia wears off, you’ll experience the same discomfort as if you’d had a vaginal delivery. There will be a little bleeding, but it shouldn’t last more than a week.” Reaching for a pen, he made notations on a pad and ripped off the page. “This is a prescription for Tylenol with codeine. Take one every six hours as needed for pain. I
want you to abstain from sexual intercourse for at least a month.”

  Dina wanted to tell the doctor that she hadn’t had sex or planned to have sex within the next four weeks. “Do you want to see me for a follow-up?”

  He removed his glasses. “I’d like you to come back in two weeks just as a precaution. I want to check your sutures. They should dissolve on their own. Do you have someone to drive you home?”

  “No.”

  He frowned. “Did you drive yourself?”

  Dina shook her head. “No.” She’d ridden a bus to Newark Pennsylvania Station, gotten on a Pascack Valley line train to Nanuet, where she’d taken a taxi to the doctor’s office.

  “You can’t leave my office without assistance.”

  Dina didn’t want to call Lance because then she would have to explain why she was at a doctor’s office in northern New Jersey. “Can someone call a car service to take me back to Irvington? My boyfriend is out of town on business,” she added.

  Dr. Howe buzzed the receptionist and told her to contact a car service and schedule a follow-up appointment for Ms. Gordon. He stood up, extending his hand. “Good luck, Ms. Gordon.”

  Dina shook his hand. “Thank you.”

  She managed to stand and make her way to the reception area to wait for the car. She hadn’t realized she’d dozed off until the receptionist shook her gently to let her know her driver had arrived.

  Dina heard someone calling her name, this voice deeper than the nurse’s. She opened her eyes to find Lance sitting on the side of her bed. Her landlady stood behind him. He wore a lightweight light gray suit, pale blue shirt and dark gray tie.

  “What…what are you doing here?” she slurred.

  Susie Foster moved closer. “I let him in, child. Mr. Haynes said he’s been calling you and when you didn’t answer your phone he came over.”

  Lance stared at the wealth of dark hair spread out on the pillow beneath Dina’s head instead of the outline of her breasts under a cotton camisole. He and Dina spoke every day. If he didn’t call her early morning, she called him early evening.

  That morning he’d called her and gotten her voice mail. He’d tried her again before noon and again the call had gone directly to voice mail.

  Placing a hand over her forehead, Lance found it cool to the touch. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Dina saw concern and another unidentified emotion in his eyes. “I have cramps.”

  “I have the perfect remedy for your monthly,” Mrs. Foster announced.

  Dina lifted a limp hand. “I’ve already taken something.” She’d had the driver wait for her while she stopped at local pharmacy to fill the prescription.

  Lance glanced over his shoulder at Dina’s landlady. “Thank you, Mrs. Foster, but I’ll take care of her now.” Waiting until the woman left, he gathered Dina in his arms. “I’m taking you home with me.”

  “No, Lance.”

  He tightened his grip under her knees as he settled her on his lap. “Yes, Dina. Don’t fight with me, because I’m a lot bigger and stronger than you.”

  Her head fell limply on his shoulder. The anesthesia was wearing off, but the codeine had kicked in, making it virtually impossible for her to stay awake. “I have to get dressed.”

  “Where are your clothes?”

  She pointed to a double dresser. “My other things are hanging in the closet.”

  “When are you scheduled to go to work again?”

  “I think Friday. No, I remember I have to go in Thursday afternoon.”

  “How long do your cramps usually last?” Lance asked.

  “A couple of days,” she said truthfully. Her period, though scant, always came on time, accompanied by cramps that left her out of sorts for several days. She’d heard that having a baby usually alleviated menstrual cramps—but not hers. In fact, they’d intensified after she’d had the tubal ligation.

  Lance eased her off his lap. “Can you dress yourself or do you want me to help you?”

  It was the second time that day that someone had asked her the same question. Combing her fingers over her mussed hair, Dina pushed it off her forehead. “I can dress myself.”

  Lance stood up. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

  She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, LL.”

  Leaning over, he dropped a kiss on her hair. “You’re welcome, baby girl.” He walked out of Dina’s bedroom, smiling. She’d called him LL. What Dina didn’t know was that when she called him Big Daddy, he was ready to give her anything she wanted—because Lancelot “LL” Haynes had fallen in love with Dina Gordon.

  CHAPTER 37

  Dina opened the door to the employees’ entrance, nearly colliding with Fletcher Stafford. He licked his lips as if savoring a decadent dessert. “Don’t bother to change. Sybil wants to see you.” She brushed past without acknowledging him. “You could say thank you, Dina,” he called out to her retreating back.

  “Thank you, Fletcher,” she drawled facetiously. She didn’t want to deal with Fletcher and she hadn’t wanted to come to work. Spending thirty-six hours convalescing from vaginal restoration definitely wasn’t enough time to counter her standing on her feet for the next six or seven hours. The only consolation was Lance had dropped her off and promised to pick her up when her shift ended.

  She’d slept in Lance’s guest bedroom, dozing off and on, while he’d worked from home. If he wasn’t on his computer, then it was the telephone. He’d ordered lunch from a local restaurant, then threatened to force-feed her when she told him that she wasn’t hungry.

  When she apologized to Lance for interfering with his work, he told her how he’d founded his own software company in 1999, earning five hundred thousand in revenue the first year, and sold it two years later for four million. In 2005 he produced a simple program that allowed just about anyone to create a Web site. The following year he grossed fifty-six million, and his software company was named one of Inc.’s top ten fastest-growing privately held firms that year. His investment banker had urged him to go public, but he pulled the plug on the widely anticipated IPO because he felt that market conditions weren’t right. She hadn’t suspected that the man who claimed tinkering with computers paid his rent had amassed a modest fortune.

  Dina came to Sybil’s office and knocked on the door. “You wanted to see me?”

  Sybil stood up. Today she’d chosen to wear a rose-pink cotton tee with a pair of twill taupe walking shorts and running shoes instead of her ubiquitous tunic, loose-fitting pants and clogs.

  “Lisa’s going to fill in for you tonight,” she said, reaching for her handbag and a set of car keys. “Let’s go.”

  Dina gave her confused look. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you to be fitted for your costume,” she explained when they were seated in her SUV.

  Dina secured her seat belt. “When do I start dancing lessons?”

  Sybil drove out of the parking lot. “I don’t know. Carlos is in Florida choreographing several music videos and he isn’t expected back until next week, which leaves us less time than I’d originally planned.”

  Dina wanted to tell Sybil that she’d undergone a surgical procedure that might impede her flexibility but held her tongue. Carlos, not Sybil Cumberland, would be better able to determine her physical limitations.

  Patrice Sigler rested her hands on her hips, peering closely at Dina Gordon, who’d stripped down to her bra and panties. The overhead spotlight revealed things that wouldn’t have been apparent with an ordinary lightbulb.

  Dina returned the stare of the middle-aged woman with graying red hair pulled into a severe bun, gray eyes and a long, narrow nose in an equally narrow face.

  Sybil, perched on a stool in a back room of the small West Orange shop filled with racks of colorful and outlandish costumes, watched the two women. She found it hard to believe that Dina had delivered a child given her incredibly flat belly.

  “What do you think, Patrice?” she asked the costume designer.<
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  Patrice pursed her lips and angled her head. “I see her as a fairy—a sparkling, very delicate green fairy.”

  Clasping her hands together in a prayerful gesture, Sybil affected a bright smile. “That’s it. Dina will be known as Sparkle.” Delectable and Sparkle were about to become a dynamic duo, she mused.

  She watched Patrice measure her protégé from head to toe. The designer selected strips of fabric in varying shades of green, placing them against Dina’s cheek and shoulder, while she kept up a rambling monologue.

  “I have to get the right shade of green because she has so much gold in her skin. If it’s too light, then she’ll look sallow, too dark and it’ll appear murky under the lights. The emerald might work, but then the lime is better. Yes, the lime will do if covered with crystals.” Patrice glanced at Sybil over her shoulder. “Lime-green embroidered silk tulle covered with emerald crystals. I’ll make a satin mask in the same color as the leotard, and the ties and ostrich feathers in the contrasting emerald. The legs of the leotard will have a high cut to give the illusion that Sparkle’s taller than she actually is.”

  Sybil nodded her approval. “What about her shoes?”

  “I suggest ballet slippers with satin ankle ties.” Patrice squinted at Dina. “What’s your shoe size?”

  “Five and a half.”

  “I’ll order a five because it should be a tight fit.” A slight frown creased her forehead. Then she snapped her fingers. “Wings! All fairies have wings. You will become an extraordinary fairy because I’ll trim your wings with delicate, wispy feathers.”

  “When do you want us to come back for a fitting?” Sybil asked Patrice.

  “I’ll call you. I’m not busy right now, so I could conceivably put her costume together this weekend.”

  Sybil smiled. “That’s good. I’d like a final fitting before the end of the month.”