Suddenly Chelsea felt bad for her roommate. “Let’s go look for Jeff,” she told her, putting on her coat. “Maybe we can grab some ice cream at Union while we’re at it.”
“Okay.” Nikki still looked dejected. Chelsea gave her a hug and pulled her out the door.
* * *
The next day in class, Professor Deveaux praised Chelsea’s new poem, but gave her no sign of her next step in joining the Society. Chelsea lingered by the Professor’s desk after everyone left, desperate for some clue as to when she would see her Muse again. “Hello,” she said timidly.
“Chelsea! I hope you know I wasn’t just flattering you, ma chère—I loved your poem. It was exquisite.” Professor Deveaux gave her a fond smile as she slipped on her coat.
If she hadn’t known better, she’d think she imagined the entire Society last weekend. “I, uh, got an email…”
“Yes, the Society was very pleased with your test story. You’re a fine writer, Chelsea.” Professor Deveaux lowered her voice.
Chelsea fidgeted, knowing she needed to be discreet yet burning to see her Muse again. “I was very…pleased…with my Muse.”
“So I gathered from your story.” The professor picked up her briefcase and gave a brief nod. “You’ll be hearing from the Society shortly, Chelsea. Until then, it’s really better that we not discuss this so…openly.”
“Of course,” Chelsea murmured. She followed Professor Deveaux out of the classroom to find Jeff waiting in the hall. He watched them both with the eagerness of a puppy.
“Uh, Professor, could I get a moment with you?” he asked quickly. “I wanted to talk to you about my poem.”
She glanced at her watch. “If it’s quick, Jeff.”
As Chelsea headed down the stairs, she bit back a smile. It was hard not to imagine Jeff’s shocked expression if he learned what both women had gotten up to this weekend. Little could he dream that the Professor had been served canapés by naked boys at a secret society called Erotics Anonymous—and that she, good girl Chelsea, had sex with a stranger in an alley behind a bar.
* * *
That night, she checked her email. Her heart gave a little leap when she saw the waiting anonymous message.
Dear Chelsea,
Greetings from the Society. You are now to prepare for your second test. On Saturday night, your driver will pick you up at seven o’clock.
You will have three days to submit your written story of your encounter.
There the email ended. This time her outfit was not specified, as it was before. She puzzled briefly over the possible scenarios in store for her, but she was too happy to really care. As long as he was there—her silent, brown-haired Muse of the genius fingers and perfect cock—that was all that mattered.
Chelsea shut off her laptop and rolled onto her bed. “Oh, Jonathan,” she whispered into her pillow, “I know it’s you… I know it is. Please be you.”
Saturday night could not come fast enough.
Chapter Four
Another heavy snow fell that Friday night. From her window, Chelsea watched students engage in snowball fights on the campus. By Saturday, her nerves were so frayed she wanted to scream. What should she wear? What should she say to him? Was she really about to meet her literary and erotic idol face to face? At last she settled on a simple black dress and went down to the foyer, where a silver limousine waited outside the dorm.
“Is that for you again?” The girl at the dorm’s front desk looked amazed. “Check you out with all these limos picking you up. Where are you going tonight?”
“I have no idea,” Chelsea said truthfully and walked out of the dorm, enjoying the girl’s stunned face.
As before, no driver emerged to greet her or open her door. Instead she slipped into the warm darkness of the limo in silence. She shut the door, adjusted her coat and the limo pulled off into the night with that smooth purr she recognized from her previous test. She smiled to herself as they drove past the students heading off to campus parties. Yes, this was the life she had always dreamed of—exotic, adventurous and slightly dangerous. No doubt Nikki and Jeff would think she was crazy for embarking on such a risqué venture, but there wasn’t a place she’d rather be.
As the limo drove off campus and passed through town, her stomach fluttered wildly with butterflies. Where exactly was she being taken tonight? What would transpire? Her dark imagination couldn’t help but concoct lurid scenarios. What if Professor Deveaux was really a killer and the Society a cult of murderous sex fiends? She nervously adjusted her coat and told herself she was being silly. Everyone at the party she had seen had been having a safe and consensual time.
The limo was traveling into the suburbs now. Snowy lawns looked bluish in the winter moonlight, the large houses dark and quiet. This was the kind of neighborhood that housed wealthy executives and their families, not kinky sex parties… So why were they here? A few minutes later the limo pulled up in front of a large, white Colonial home. The driveway was empty though the surrounding houses looked normal enough. For a moment she thought her Muse had failed to show up. But she knew she needed to trust in the Society. She climbed out of the limo and went to the door and rang the bell. When no one answered, she tried the doorknob and went in.
The house was dark and silent. Only a faint light flickering at the top of the staircase gave her a clue as to direction.
Okay, she thought, her stomach fluttering with anxiety. She could do this. Yes, it was the polar opposite of the loud, crowded bar of her previous test and yes, she was just a little nervous at the idea of a stranger waiting for her somewhere in these darkened rooms, but if it was her beloved Muse, she had nothing to fear.
Her mouth dry, she ascended the dark stairs and made her way to a lushly decorated bedroom lit by dozens of candles. In the center of the room waited a massive four-poster bed of black iron; on a round glass table, a white box bore her name. She opened it to pull forth one alluring treasure after another. The sheer thigh-high stockings, black corset and garter belt comprised an outfit from her dirtiest fantasies.
Waiting at the bottom of the box was a black satin blindfold.
Chelsea swallowed. She understood the task laid out for her, but this was far more disturbing than her encounter at the bar. Then, she had merely felt naughty, letting a stranger caress her so publicly, but now she was being asked to take a far greater leap of faith. Just the thought of dressing up in this corset and waiting blindfolded in a strange house for her Muse to come sent a shiver of fear and excitement down her spine.
She reminded herself that Professor Deveaux had arranged this and would never do anything to harm her. Quietly, she removed her clothes and donned the sexy costume, struggling with the unfamiliar garter belt. The corset was tight and squeezed her breasts into two creamy mounds not quite concealed by her long hair. At last there was nothing to do but put on the blindfold.
What if she didn’t? What if she left it off and watched him walk in? She would be able to confirm her wildest suspicion—that her Muse was none other than Jonathan Danvers. She would also probably be rejected from the Society and never see him again.
She fastened the blindfold over her eyes and climbed onto the bed.
The silence of the house seemed to pound in her ears. As the minutes dragged, she longed for something to break it—a voice, the slam of a door, a song. Instead she heard something else—a footstep on the stairs.
Then another. Yes, someone was walking up the stairs.
Unable to stop herself, Chelsea began to breathe fast with excited anticipation. This was actually happening, she had delivered herself to a strange house for a stranger’s pleasure and he could be anyone in the world…
As soon as he walked to the bed, she knew it was her Muse.
She ached to hear him speak. Instead, those familiar fingers caressed her hair in silence. Carefully he checked the security of the blindfold fastened at the back of her head. His hands slipped down to her bare shoulders and rubbed them, perhaps to
offer comfort in the face of her anxiety.
His fingers were so strong, so skilled. They worked her muscles into a dreamy state of relaxation where all of her worries melted away under the heat of her rising arousal. She dared not move as he massaged her, sensing it was her job to follow his lead. Then he stepped back from her, leaving her aching with disappointment.
Come back! she wanted to beg. She knew it was ridiculous, but his body felt more than sexual to her. It felt emotional and erotic and spellbinding all at once. Never had she felt so complete as when his warm strength held her.
She heard a tiny clink of metal and frowned. What was going on?
Her hands were brought together over her head and handcuffed to the bed so swiftly she scarcely registered the act before she was trapped. Quickly, she thrashed against the steel, struggling to free herself. This couldn’t be happening. She hadn’t given him permission to restrain her. She yanked wildly against the cuffs, her arms held tight over her head, but only succeeded in bouncing her breasts free from the corset.
His hands covered her creamy flesh as they spilled forth. At the confident touch of his fingers on her nipples, she calmed down. She just wanted him to touch her, to keep stroking her until every inch of her skin tingled from his fingertips. She sighed with happiness as he climbed on the bed next to her, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight. Unable to see him, she had no idea of what he was thinking or planning or even if he was dressed or naked. Restlessly, she stretched her legs in his direction, only to feel him shift away.
Okay. Apparently her role was to be entirely passive tonight. That was fine. She would play it however he wanted as long as he stayed in bed with her.
Unexpectedly, his tongue flicked at her nipple. She arched her back, unable to stop herself as the warm, exciting sensation moved from one nipple to the other. His mouth retreated without warning, leaving her stiff pink points achingly hard and neglected—and then his lips were kissing her breasts, his tongue running between them to lick each undercurve in one tantalizing, unbroken move.
She shifted again, the flesh between her legs growing swollen and sensitive. A slow burn rose in her pussy and, for the first time, she realized the true danger of the handcuffs—that she was powerless to claim her own satisfaction tonight and must rely on him to deliver it. Her Muse would need to touch, lick and fuck her in exactly the right way or she would go mad from unfulfilled desire.
His hands were massaging her thighs now, loosening the tension of anticipation in her muscles. The proximity of his fingers to her sex awoke tactile memories of their initial encounter and she was embarrassed to find herself growing even wetter. What must he think of her, a young college student willingly letting herself be fondled and fucked by a stranger? Yet, he too was in the Society and perhaps had done far worse, but she didn’t want to think about that as he undid her garter belt and slowly peeled down her stockings. She didn’t want to even remember how they had come to be here. All she felt was the conviction that they shared a unique and powerful bond and it was that bond she felt filling her limbs with almost devastating pleasure.
His hot, strong lips brushed the ridge the stocking band had left in her skin. The gesture was so tender that her pussy gave an unexpected throb. She felt the silky brush of his hair on her skin. Once more she recalled the back of his brown head going out the alley door of the bar. Immediately that insatiable curiosity to know his face, his thoughts, his history, filled her. My Muse, my Muse, tell me everything about you.
Instead she struggled to stay silent, knowing that was part of the test. Her obedience was rewarded with the rise of his mouth up her thighs. She sucked in her breath, her body tight with excitement, praying he would slide her panties off. Instead he tongued her through the silk. The strong heat of his tongue ran up her pussy and pressed on her clit, driving her crazy through the fabric.
Chelsea moaned and thrashed on the bed, pulling against her handcuffs. She wanted so many things from him and all at the same time. She wanted him to rip off her panties and lick her pussy until she throbbed in his mouth, she wanted his cock to push deep inside her, and she wanted him to tear off her blindfold and gaze into her eyes while he did it. She wanted a complete sexual communion between them and being handcuffed and silent while he played with her only increased her torture.
She gasped with disappointment as he retreated from her thighs. For a few agonizing moments, he didn’t touch her and she was ready to cry at the thought of their encounter ending. A moment later he leaned over her and began to undress her as if she were a doll. As he removed her corset and panties, she became aware that it was the first time he had seen her body. While in many ways he had possessed an advantage over her so far, his intimate knowledge of her had been almost as limited as her knowledge of him. She could sense his excitement now at seeing her nude for the first time; she could feel it in his fingertips as they traced her every curve and fissure. Still silent, his hands shook as he touched her, and from that reaction she knew she was right. He felt the same connection she did. This was not just a Society game for him. He was smitten with the same feverish longing as she.
As he stroked her skin, a random thought occurred to her; he didn’t touch her with the jaded expertise she would expect from a worldly man like Jonathan Danvers. He seemed...fresher. Hungrier. Could he really be this turned on by her?
As a warm hardness brushed her thigh, she knew that he was. Once more she arched her back, biting her lip as he circled one finger around her wet, sensitive opening. Never had she been so eager so quickly to be entered. Just his touch incited a fire inside her that only a complete union could satisfy. Her thighs strained as wide apart as she could spread them, wordlessly begging him to fuck her.
His fingers toyed with her tender sex, exploring her in a haphazard manner that made her grit her teeth. Only when she was close to screaming did his fingers retreat. The bed beneath her shifted again as his body shifted to cover hers like a promise. Slowly he settled himself on top of her until she wanted to groan from the luscious sensation of his hot, hard muscles on her skin.
He pushed her hair back from her face, smoothing it onto her pillow. His full lips pressed her cheekbone in one long, lingering kiss. In the ensuing silence, Chelsea became aware of his rapid, booming heartbeat and understood his delay. He was trying not to become overexcited.
She twisted her face into a different position and sought his mouth with hers.
After a moment, he kissed her. His mouth grew stronger and more insistent, kissing her with a tender ferocity that brought home the reality of their situation. This was their first kiss, a ridiculous first to be having after he’d mastered the rest of her body so intimately. And yet, as his tongue swam over hers, she realized how much this kiss meant from him. This was not a kiss between strangers. This was the kiss of lovers bonded to each other in a deep and emotional need.
Her tongue answered his in a joyful demand. For a few perfect moments she drew in all the satisfying confirmation of their mutual connection. He drew away and, with a final sweep of his lips, knelt back between her legs, running his hands down her body.
His hard cock brushed her thighs again, making her twitch. With her hands cuffed over her head and her thighs wide open, she felt more aching, wet and open than she had ever felt in her life.
Her Muse leaned back. As she heard the unmistakable sound of a condom being opened, she shifted restlessly with anticipation. He plunged roughly inside her, driving all the way to her deepest, tightest core. Chelsea gasped, unable to keep silent. Every memory she’d replayed of their sex in the alley paled compared to this. Tonight his cock felt bigger, tighter and harder in her tender walls. Her Muse began to rock inside her, thrusting just slowly enough to tease her with excruciating friction as she writhed helplessly beneath him.
He drew all the way out, leaving an ache of deprivation inside her. Then he pushed back in, filling her again with his silky heat. Expertly, he began to fuck her with almost primitive power, ho
lding her hips captive as his cock swiftly drove in and out of her wetness.
Chelsea twisted helplessly against her cuffs, a frenzy of lust spreading through her body.
“Talk to me,” she begged finally. She knew it was wrong and against the rules but she couldn’t bear their silence a moment longer. “Tell me your name. I need you. I need you. I need you…”
Her Muse leaned over her and placed one fingertip on her lips. “Ssh,” he whispered.
In that one syllable, she heard the voice she felt she had been waiting for all her life. Deep, masculine and unquestionably sexy, his voice mysteriously contained all of the components she had wanted in any man—power, love, tenderness and lust. She groaned with almost devastated need as she realized she would have to wait longer still to know him as she longed to.
His mouth covered hers again, hot, demanding and emotional. She kissed him back avidly as every possible inch of him pressed into her, thighs, cock, stomach and mouth. His hot, muscled weight felt like heaven on top of her and, as he drove into her with inexorable passion, her pussy broke around him in fierce, wracking throbs. She thrashed against her bonds, wild with lust as he rode his own orgasm into a shuddering flood inside her.
He rolled off to her side and gathered her flushed and sweaty body into his arms. She didn’t realize she was crying until his tongue licked away the tears leaking from her blindfold. The satin was wet and sticking to her eyelashes. Embarrassed and confused by her rush of emotion, she burrowed into his skin. Her Muse kissed her mouth once more and she tasted the salt of her tears on his lips. Together they fell asleep.
* * *
Chelsea slept a more contented, deeper sleep than she’d experienced in years. When she awoke, the brightness of daylight hurt her eyes. She was in a strange white bedroom. Quickly, she sat up, still naked, last night’s events washing over her mind in a hot flood of recall. Her blindfold was gone and so was her outfit. The handcuffs had been removed.
Erotics Anonymous - A Strangers in the Night Story Page 4