If it was the engine, she was just screwed! Focusing on the battery, she hammered at the connections with the handle end of the screw driver and went back to try the starter. The starter groaned, sending a flash of excitement through her, but the engine didn’t catch. Deciding, maybe, it was just the corrosion, she went back inside her apartment and mixed up a pot full of water and soda.
A spark flew off the battery when she hit it with the screw driver again, scaring the shit out of her. Shaken, she went back and tried to start the car again. Thankfully, it started.
She was still jittery over the near mishap and the problem starting the car when she arrived, but it at least distracted her from her anxiety about the party itself!
Marla looked her over and frowned when she arrived and Chelsey’s self-confidence took a nosedive. “What in the world have you been doing?”
Chelsey shrugged. “The car wouldn’t start.”
Shaking her head, Marla grabbed her and marched her through the living room and into her spare bedroom. “Clean up and change. It’s a damned good thing I told you to get here by 6:30! I knew you’d be late!”
Chapter Two
Wondering what she was supposed to change in to, Chelsey headed into the adjoining bath to see what the problem was.
“Shit!” she exclaimed the moment she saw her reflection. How the hell had she managed to get black grease on herself?
Her hands told the story! The damned screwdriver must have had grease all over it! Releasing an irritated huff, she scrubbed her hands and then cleaned the smears off of her nose and forehead. She’d also spattered her clothes when she’d poured the soda over the battery, she discovered. Using a damp cloth, she brushed at the spots in the hope of removing them and finally gave up.
Fortunately, she discovered she’d left a few things when she moved out of her sister’s house and into her apartment—probably in the laundry.
Actually, she hadn’t ‘forgotten’ them or overlooked them, she recalled when she’d picked them up to examine them. It was some of the things Marla had bought to ‘cheer’ her up—way too risqué to her mind and too young for a woman her age if it came to that. She was a teacher, for god’s sake! She couldn’t be seen in public in this sort of thing!
Marla brought her a mixed drink. “I was thinking about that one,” she said, pointing at it as Chelsey took the drink.
It was a halter top similar to the one she was wearing … except it had a looped cutout in the front that exposed most of her boobs. “I didn’t put on a bra.”
“You shouldn’t wear a bra with sort of thing anyway,” Marla said dryly.
“My boobs will fall out!”
Marla shrugged. “So? Shove them back in. There isn’t anybody coming except a few of the girls.”
“Don?” Chelsey said pointedly, reminding Marla she had a husband, and two boys that were way too old to see auntie’s boobies if it came to that!
“Hell! I didn’t want him in the way! I convinced him to take the boys camping for the weekend.”
Chelsey took a gulp of the drink and made a face. “My god, Marla! Did you put any mixer in this?”
Marla rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to sip it!” She turned away. “Hurry up! The girls should be arriving any time and I don’t want the snacks to get cold and soggy!”
The ‘snacks’ were fancy hors d’oeuvres Marla had had catered for the party that were as delicious, and fattening Chelsey didn’t doubt, as they were beautiful to look at.
The ‘girls’ ranged in age from thirty to fifty. Roughly half of them were single like Chelsey—meaning divorced. Arriving by ones and twos, Marla’s friends were as giddy as school girls. “Ooooh! Marla always throws the best parties! I can’t believe … uh ….” Beverly Saxs broke off when Marla threw an hors d’oeuvre at her.
“Catch!” Marla exclaimed gaily, and then narrowed her eyes at Beverly when she gaped at her instead of trying to catch the hors d’oeuvre that hit her on the chest and then landed on the floor. She blinked a couple of times and then her eyes rounded. “Ohhh! We weren’t …. God I’m starving! Let’s eat!”
Instantly suspicious, Chelsey would’ve pursued it if she hadn’t noticed the women were arriving with ‘birthday’ presents. Since her birthday was almost a month away, and they were Marla’s friends, not hers, she was uncomfortable enough to be completely distracted.
“Marla!” she hissed when her sister had directed everyone into the great room to help themselves while she broke out the wine. “You told them it was my birthday?”
Marla stared at her. “Early birthday. I didn’t tell them to bring presents! They did it because they wanted to. Relax, will you? It’s probably just little fun things, you know? Gag gifts?”
Feeling a little relieved, she didn’t argue when Marla sent her into the great room to entertain their guests while she got the wine. She didn’t see that they actually needed entertaining. Most of them were down on their knees around the huge coffee table, a plate in one hand and their gazes fixed on the dishes. Cynthia Dixon was going through the videos in the cabinet beside the enormous wall mounted TV and Barb Smith was looking through the music collection.
“Where did you put the pornos?” Cynthia yelled at the ceiling after a moment.
Chelsey shot her a surprised look.
“They’re in that box by your foot,” Marla responded as she joined them. “We don’t keep them in here!”
“Eew! We aren’t going to be watching porns while we try to eat?” Milly Overton complained.
Cynthia had knelt by the box. Without looking up, she shot a bird at Milly. “You don’t have to watch.”
Barb apparently found something that appealed to her. The stereo blared to life, drowning out any response Milly might have made. Barb adjusted the sound slightly lower. “Sorry! I didn’t realize I had it all the way up.”
“I was about to put on a porn!” Cynthia said indignantly.
Barb rolled her eyes. “Like we need to listen to the dialogue!”
Cynthia thought it over and shrugged. Shoving her choices into the machine designed to play multiples, she grabbed the remotes and headed for the L shaped sectional sofa where everyone was gathered. Marla poured wine for everyone, set the bottle down, and focused on grabbing her own snacks. “Oh! This is one of my favorites!” she exclaimed, settling on the couch with her plate.
Chelsey wasn’t certain whether she was talking about the food or the video, but when she followed Marla’s gaze she did a double take. “Oh my god! Is that …? Is that what it looks like?”
“Those can’t be real!” Milly gasped. “They look like … elephant trunks!”
Barb snorted her wine and then coughed for ten minutes while Beverly pounded her on the back—until Barb finally caught her breath and managed to fight her off. “Of course they’re real! The name of it is ‘Giant Cocks and the Ladies Who Love Them’,” she said snickering. “Where in the world did you get this, Marla?”
“Oh! Now that can’t be real!” Beverly objected a few moments later when one of the guys, who looked like he had a two foot dong, began pumping it into first one and then another of the impossibly large breasted women in the video. “It must be … retractable or something!”
Chelsey was so mesmerized she forgot about the food on her plate until a piece slid off and landed in her lap. Cynthia put the player on fast forward and they all watched the pair fuck in high speed for several moments, then she put it in reverse, which was even funnier.
As an ice breaker, Chelsey thought ruefully, it worked great. By the time they’d watched the video with everyone vying with witty commentary, drinking wine, and munching on the catered food, everyone was totally relaxed and completely in a party mood. They got louder and more raunchy in their comments as the wine sank lower in the bottles. They got up and danced wildly around the room whenever any of their favorite songs played, and then collapsed breathlessly on the couch and complained about not being able to dance like they used to.
/> In spite of the rough start to her night, Chelsey found herself relaxing and having more fun than she could remember having since she’d been a kid. Ruefully, she admitted part of it was undoubtedly the wine, but she thought she would’ve felt like she was in the midst of a wild college sorority party even without the wine as uninhibited as everyone was behaving. Of course, the wild college boys were conspicuous by their absence, but the stallions prancing across the big screen like randy satyrs gave the party the right ‘atmosphere’.
They’d graduated from the wine to mixed drinks when Marla announced it was time for the ‘special’ entertainment she’d lined up for them. Everyone began to whoop and clap enthusiastically. Chelsey had no idea what the entertainment was, but she laughed and joined the others clamoring for the show.
Marla and Cynthia pushed the large coffee table with the remains of their refreshments out of the way and then Marla headed over to the light switch to dim the lights while Cynthia turned the TV off and changed the music on the stereo. Barb moved to the floor lamps around the room and switched them on, adjusting the lights until they focused on a single spot in the center of the great room.
The women ranged along the couch began to clap in sync, chanting, “Diablo! Diablo!”
Laughing, Chelsey clapped and chanted with them without having the first clue of what they were chanting about.
Barb, Marla, and Cynthia scurried to the couch and flopped on to the cushions just as the music Cynthia had put on to play started. The door that led down the hall to the bedrooms opened dramatically and smoke billowed out of it.
Chelsey gasped in momentary alarm as the smoke poured from the hall. A dark figure seemed to flow outward with the smoke, emerging from the shadows created by the lighting almost like a dark shadow among the others. The masked figure swept to the center of the spotlight, flipped his cloak back to reveal a bright white dress shirt and black dress pants, and began to gyrate in time to the music.
Chelsey sucked in a breath of surprise as he flipped the cloak off and twirled it around himself as he danced, almost like a matador. Around her, the other women began to squeal with delight and bounce up and down on the couch, calling out lewd praise and invitations as he tossed the cloak aside and whipped the mask off, tossing it as he had the cape. A flicker of recognition swept through Chelsey, but before she could pursue the errant memory, he grasped his shirt, ‘tearing’ it off so that all that was left was the collar around his throat and the cuffs at his wrists.
The motion instantly drew her attention from his face to his chest. The beautifully sculpted torso he revealed was either already damp with the sweat of his efforts or oiled. The light gleamed on his flawless skin, emphasizing the mesmerizing play of muscles along his belly, chest, and arms as he danced. Leaping into the air, he came down and did a split and then up again as if he was on pulleys. When he was on his feet again, he reached down and grasped the sides of his trousers and tore them off as he had the shirt, tossing them in the direction of the screaming ladies on the couch.
Chelsey’s attention was instantly riveted to the bulge that filled the soft red knit thong he was wearing beneath. Imagination or not, it seemed that the fabric molded to his genitals in a way that made it clear it was primarily a monster cock that created the bulge. He turned, displaying firm, rounded buttocks and a back that was as beautifully sculpted as his chest.
Turning to face them again, he glanced at the women lined up along the couch and then headed directly toward her. Her eyes rounded the moment she realized he was heading toward her. She tensed all over in an instinctive urge to retreat. Before she could surge to her feet, however, he leaned over her.
For a split second they were nearly to nose.
Garryk stared into her eyes and instantly abandoned the well rehearsed routine that had been guiding him on autopilot from the moment he’d recognized Chelsey among the women he’d been hired to entertain. He supposed, more accurately, it abandoned him, leaving him with no guidance at all beyond his instincts and those were honed entirely upon the hunt. Lifting his hands to her bare shoulders, he ran them lightly over the smooth skin and down her arms, clasping her hands. “Come on. I’m giving you a private lap dance,” he murmured hoarsely, tugging on her gently as he straightened, coaxing when everything inside him was screaming to simply haul her to her feet and carry her off to a place where he’d have her to himself.
He felt a moment of resistance and then she yielded, coming to her feet. Some of the tension eased from him, the anxiety that she would refuse, but it merely gave way to the savage need pounding through him. Mostly oblivious to the other women now, though he was vaguely aware of the clapping and the chant they’d begun—‘Go Chelsey! Go Chelsey!’—he turned and headed across the Great Room toward the hall where he’d emerged, his mind in too much turmoil to have any clear goal in mind.
As he reached the hallway, however, his mind leapt to the room where he’d prepared for his performance and he strode quickly toward it, pushing the door open and pulling her inside. Her eyes were wide as he pulled her around in a circle. She had the kind of eyes a man could drown in, filled with the kind of uncertainty and vulnerability that gave rise to a rush of testosterone—the urge to conquer and, at the same time, made a man want to rescue her, to protect. He felt all of that and more as he stared into her eyes, but he didn’t think anything short of screaming terror could’ve turned him from his purpose at that point and he didn’t see that.
He saw confusion, but also desire and that fed his own, threatening to send it spinning completely out of control when he was hanging on by a thread now. He had been since he’d spotted her and all the things he’d felt for this woman for what seemed like forever had descended over him like a thunderclap.
He waltzed her backwards toward the backless bench that stood at the foot of the bed, not because he was in any mood to delay and savor the victory he’d been fantasizing about for years, but because he could see the fear skating just beneath the surface of her desire. She wanted him and that was all that really mattered. Finally, she’d looked at him with the desire he’d longed to see in her eyes.
All he had to do was control the need ravaging him, gentle her, and she was his. Her eyes widened with a touch of panic when she felt the bench behind her knees. He slipped his hands upward to her upper arms and guided her onto it, following her, maintaining the illusion that he intended nothing more than the lap dance he’d promised. Once he’d climbed onto the bench astride her lap, however, could feel the heat radiating from her and hear her rapid, panting breaths, he discovered he was as near a total loss of control as he’d ever been in his life. He caught one of her hands as he undulated over her, lifting it. “Touch me,” he demanded hoarsely, guiding the hand he held to his chest and clasping it to one pec, just above his pounding heart.
He thought for a moment that she would snatch her hand back the moment he released it. Instead, after hesitating for an endless moment while he held his breath, she curled her fingers. A dizzying rush went through him as she hesitantly explored his upper chest, and then her gaze drifted downward. His heart slammed against his chest wall in triumph. He felt his cock, semi-erect already, fill to aching fullness.
Her head snapped up, her eyes widening. He swallowed convulsively, cupped her hand and guided it downward to cup his erection, guiding it along his length. Her gaze drifted down again, but once more when he tentatively released her hand it stayed, poised, and then gripped him. His eyes slammed shut at the excruciating sensations that poured through him.
When he opened them again, he saw that she was looking up at him as she had before. He stared back at her indecisively for a moment and then threw caution to the wind. Threading his fingers through her hair, he curled them around her skull to prevent her retreat and lowered his head to cover her soft mouth with his own, capturing her faint gasp of surprise and then surrender as he breached the barrier and lay claim to the tender inner recesses with his tongue.
As if she’d l
ost all will, become enchanted, Chelsey allowed him to guide her, yielding to each demand he made of her with a sense of being swept away by a force too powerful to resist, feeling her body react with heated wonder as if that, too, was his to command. The tremors she felt racing through his big, muscular body were almost as unnerving as they were enthralling, however, and she wavered moment to moment between her sense of self-preservation and complete capitulation.
Self-preservation lost the battle the moment she felt his mouth close over hers, though, crumbling in the face of determined conquest. Drunk already from his scent that had enveloped her in a cloud of euphoric abandon, the moment she felt his tongue stroke along hers, felt his taste fill her mouth and awaken seemingly every nerve ending in her body, she completely lost her moorings. Her hand curled more tightly along his cock, more a mindless reaction of the abrupt increase of tension than deliberation.
She felt the jolt that ran through him. His kiss became wilder, more abandoned. He reached between them, capturing her hand and guiding it back and forth along his length as he had before and yet, when she caught the rhythm and tried to stroke him as he seemed to want her to, he caught her hand and stilled it. Breaking the kiss, he stared at her for a long moment, panting hoarsely. Abruptly, he shifted his hold on her. Encircling her with one arm, he lifted her, dragging her backwards onto the mattress. She’d barely registered the fact that he’d carried her onto the bed when she felt his hand settle on her belly and skate upward beneath her top.
He captured her gasp of surprise with his mouth when he cupped one breast and kneaded it, distracting her with the rhythmic stroke of his tongue along hers while he massaged her breasts and plucked at her nipples with his fingers until they were tautly erect. When he abruptly broke from her lips again and shifted downward, shoving her top up to expose her breasts, discomfort wafted through her despite the dizzying disorientation that gripped her. She caught his hands anxiously, trying to protect herself from his perusal.
The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition Page 2