Erotics Anonymous - A Strangers in the Night Story

by Veronica Wilde

  His brown eyes watched her with longing. Still pinning his wrists, she unrolled the condom and centered herself over his cock. She lowered herself until that mind-blowing hardness filled her pussy. She closed her eyes and spread her thighs, trying to accommodate all of him inside her. Slowly she began to ride his cock, moving her hips with a smooth and flawless rhythm that slid her pussy up and down his shaft like a dream. His cock felt thick and unbelievably engorged inside her, stimulating her most sensitive nerves. Tentatively she released his wrists and rested her hands on his ribs, gaining the balance to ride him faster.

  The friction between her flesh and his ignited a thrill rising in her blood like wildfire. No sex had ever felt this exciting, this hot. As he reached up to play with her breasts, she moaned breathlessly, almost delirious with heat. Her tender walls felt so sensitive around him as he drove in and out of her with primal urgency, sending sparks of ecstasy through her body. Moaning wildly now, she leaned forward so her breasts swung in his face and rode him as hard and fast as if he were a stallion. He answered her urgency with his own matching thrusts, slamming his hips up to meet her in a mind-blowing frenzy of animal lust.

  “Oh God,” she groaned. “Oh God.”

  As her orgasm ripped through her, illuminating every nerve with fiery joy, an epiphany followed. She was enamored of this man, faceless and nameless as he was. She was smitten, besotted and deeply in love and there wasn’t a rule or policy that could alter that. She loved him. As he drove into her with a final roar, Chelsea collapsed on his chest, almost sobbing with the intensity of her climax. Her hair clung to both of their sweat-slicked bodies and she was breathing too hard to speak. Gradually, as his softening penis slid out of her, he held her tightly against him with a ferocity that told her he loved her too.

  Chapter Six

  “Dear Chelsea,” Nikki pretended to read from her laptop screen, “I can’t wait to fuck you again. Sunday night was fantastic. But what would really be great is if you invite your sexy roommate along for a threesome.” She raised her black head and pulled an expression of surprise. “Hey, look at that. Your married man wants to meet me. What a fabulous idea!”

  Chelsea threw a leather glove at her. “For the last time, there is no married man. And quit reading my imaginary email.”

  She sorted through her lingerie drawer, not terribly bothered by Nikki’s curiosity. She had already turned in her story to the Society and had already received their return approval by email. She wasn’t worried about Nikki spotting anything incriminating, though she did wish she would stop asking questions. She disliked lying to her roommate, but couldn’t think of a plausible story to explain the limousines and nights away from the dorm.

  The Erotics Anonymous Valentine’s Ball was only three days away. Hopefully after the masks came off, she and her Muse could be a couple openly.

  “Are you working as a high-priced call girl then? You can tell me.” Nikki bounced on her bed. “Come on, Chelsea. I know there’s some kind of sex going on. You’ve never glowed like this before.”

  Chelsea blushed, ducking her head so her hair hid her flaming cheeks. “Nikki… Let’s just go. We’re going to be late for class if we keep waiting for Jeff.”

  “Jeff’s not here. He’s been at the library all morning.” Nikki slid on her winter jacket and collected her books. “He’s got some special project he’s doing for Professor Deveaux.”

  Chelsea dropped the scarf she was wrapping around her neck. “Huh?” she asked in alarm. “What kind of special project?”

  “I don’t know. He’s been as secretive as you lately. What do you care?” Nikki sidled up to her with speculative eyes. “Hmm, you actually look…anxious. What’s wrong, did you discover a latent passion for poor, unfucked Jeff? Maybe now that Professor Deveaux is sleeping with him, he looks a little better to you?”

  Chelsea slowly picked up her scarf, busying herself with it to avoid her roommate’s eyes. Her skin was crawling with a horrid suspicion, yet it couldn’t be true. Probably Jeff was just doing some kind of extra credit project. His grades in the class weren’t exactly spectacular. “What? That’s crazy. Where’d you hear that?”

  “Everyone’s saying it. He’s been seen sneaking in and out of her office at weird hours and hasn’t been sleeping in his room. Someone even saw him leaving her house at four in the morning last week.”

  The idea was preposterous. “Professor Deveaux would never touch him.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I have it on good authority that she’s not as untouchable as she seems.”

  Chelsea swallowed nervously. All this time she had been sure that the Society was a well-kept secret on campus. Professor Deveaux’s impeccable reputation was proof of that. But if there were rumors about her, that would mean there was gossip about the Society—gossip that could wind up implicating Chelsea someday, if she wasn’t careful. “Why? What have you have heard?”

  “That she usually picks out a favorite each year, if you know what I mean.” Nikki glanced at her watch. “Come on, it’s getting late. We’d better go.”

  Chelsea’s heart was beating hard. “Who told you that?”

  “One of the guys from Sigma house. He told me—and you have to swear to secrecy on this, Chelsea—that one of the other brothers had this really kinky affair with her. Supposedly she belongs to some sex club and he went to parties with her and everything.”

  Chelsea’s head swam with panic. No, this couldn’t be possible. Professor Deveaux had made the Society sound so elegant and sophisticated. It wasn’t a cheap sex club. “I don’t believe it,” she managed to say. “Professor Deveaux would never jeopardize her job like that.”

  “Oh, Chelsea, you’re so naïve. Half the professors on campus have had affairs with students. Now come on, let’s go.”

  The winter afternoon was brilliant with sunlight reflecting on snow. Chelsea shielded her eyes as they made their way across campus, panic coursing through her veins like a toxic drug. She tried to think of an innocent way to probe for more information. “Even if that is true, I doubt she would take an interest in Jeff,” she said finally.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought until I saw the scratches all over his chest,” Nikki said casually. “Someone put those there and it wasn’t any of the girls we know.”

  Chelsea felt as if she were going to be sick. Professor Deveaux was refined and worldly. She could choose her lovers from anyone in the Society. So why would she pick out an awkward college boy for her lover? No, it couldn’t be true. Even if she had seduced Jeff, surely she wouldn’t induct him into the Society. He wasn’t even a good writer…

  “See you,” Nikki said cheerfully and headed off to the science building.

  Chelsea made her way into the liberal arts building. The silence of the stairs and hallways told her she was five minutes late for class. As she rounded the landing to the second floor, muffled voices reached her ears.

  “Just don’t worry about it, I haven’t told anyone…”

  That was Jeff’s voice.

  “You shouldn’t even be speaking to me in public!” The hissed whisper came from Professor Deveaux. “Now go to class. I will wait and enter a minute later.”

  “Okay, okay. I just wanted to know if I got accepted or not. Valentine’s Day is this weekend…”

  Chelsea wanted to retch. It was all true. Jeff was having an affair with Professor Deveaux and was being inducted into the Society just as she was. It was revolting, yet undeniable.

  Now Chelsea was forced to rethink her view of the Society. Professor Deveaux had said the Society was only for sexual adventurers and talented erotica writers. But if that was true, how could Jeff become a member? He was an inexperienced boy and a mediocre writer at best. He had only taken the creative writing class because of his hopeless crush on Professor Deveaux.

  Chelsea fought for composure as she listened to Professor slip into the women’s room while Jeff headed into class. She followed, anxious to take a seat before Professor entered the r
oom. As she did, Jeff gave her an odd look.

  “Where’d you come from?”

  “My sociology professor’s office,” she lied. She felt so disgusted with him that she couldn’t even meet his eyes.

  Class passed with excruciating slowness. As Professor Deveaux offered her feedback on other students’ short stories, Chelsea tried to concentrate on one central fact. It was just three days until the Valentine’s Ball when she would at last meet Jonathan Danvers. That was really all that mattered anymore. Professor Deveaux could seduce every boy on campus, throw the doors of the Society wide open, as long as Chelsea could de-mask her Muse. Everything else was irrelevant.

  At last class ended and she rose with the other students to leave.

  “Chelsea, can I see you?” Professor called mildly.

  Chelsea forced a pleasant expression on her face as she approached the big wooden desk. She had passed her three tests with shining colors, after all; surely Professor Deveaux would now issue her formal invitation to the Valentine’s Ball.

  To her surprise, Professor Deveaux handed her a box. “This is for your fourth test, which begins in…” She consulted her elegant black watch. “One hour. The limo will be waiting outside this building.”

  Fourth test? Chelsea stared at her. Who ever heard of a fourth anything? There were always three wishes, three chances, three choices. Why did she need to take a fourth test to prove her eligibility? And why hadn’t she received the usual email instructing her on this test?

  Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d argue with seeing her Muse before the weekend.

  Professor tapped the box. “When you arrive at the hotel, find a restroom and open this box.” Her dark eyes stared challengingly into Chelsea’s. “You’d better be going.”

  A while later Chelsea stared at herself in a local hotel restroom mirror. She was dressed as a naughty schoolgirl in knee socks, a short plaid skirt, cotton panties and a white blouse. The Lolita outfit only emphasized her very grownup curves. She stared at the expanse of her slender thighs between the socks and skirt, and the shadow of her black lace bra through the schoolgirl blouse. Being dressed like this in public was humiliating. Her instructions said she was to report to room 403.

  Taking a deep breath, she exited the safety of the lounge and crossed the hotel lobby. As the male clerks stared at her, she concentrated on reaching the elevators, her cheeks burning with shame. She knew they thought she was a call girl. She could only hope they weren’t students in any of her classes.

  Up on the fourth floor, no one answered the door of room 403. She stepped inside.

  Was he in the bathroom? Hiding in the closet? Something about this didn’t feel right. Then she saw the laptop blinking on the dresser. As soon as she approached it, a message appeared.

  Sit on the bed facing the mirror and remove your panties. Then open your legs.

  Okay. That she could do. She didn’t understand why she had been given the white cotton panties to wear in the first place, but she had learned not to question the tests. As she leaned back and pulled the underwear down her thighs, she realized the obvious. The mirror must be two-way. Someone was watching her. Was it him? The thought of undressing before him aroused her. She sat obediently with her legs open, waiting for the next message to appear on the laptop.

  Stand up before the mirror and get undressed. Blouse first, then bra, then skirt.

  With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned her white blouse, pausing to view her own reflection in the short skirt and black bra. She unhooked the bra, letting her breasts bounce free for the unseen eyes watching her. Not knowing for sure that it was him watching her added a thrill to the naughty warmth growing between her thighs. At last she stood before the mirror, naked except for her knee socks. Long moments dragged by as her stiff nipples began to ache. Who was watching her? What were they thinking?

  Get on the bed on all fours, facing away from the mirror.

  She obeyed, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

  The door opened. Her heartbeat began to race as soft but heavy footsteps approached the bed. The bed creaked and sank beneath her as it accepted a much heavier weight. Two hands roughly parted her slender thighs and began to play with her pussy.

  Her body went cold. This wasn’t him. The man touching her now was rougher, less intimately connected with her body, and larger than him. Immediately, she slipped away from him and rolled away.

  The naked man staring down at her was Jonathan Danvers.

  She knew his face immediately. He looked very different from the author photo on his book jacket—he was significantly older than she expected, in his late thirties, with a harsh and disapproving mouth. His dark hair was receding as well. Yet she knew it was him. The man of her teenage fantasies loomed over her, naked and available.

  She couldn’t have been more disgusted.

  “This isn’t what you’re supposed to do,” he snapped, thumping the mattress before him.

  “You—you’re not him,” she said as she scrambled off the bed.

  No, he certainly wasn’t. She had been wrong about one thing—the name of her anonymous Muse. But she had been right about their connection, because being here naked with Jonathan was not arousing in the least. Now she knew that it wasn’t the kink or the anonymity that thrilled her as much as him—her Muse’s eyes, his touch, his essence. He was the key to her erotic gratification, not these ridiculous scenarios.

  Now she just had to find out his name.

  “Not who?” Jonathan sat back on his heels and leered at her body. “Come on. Back on the bed.”

  “I don’t think so.” She groped for the ridiculous schoolgirl outfit. What had Professor Deveaux been thinking, tricking her into having sex with Jonathan Danvers? True, she knew Chelsea was a fan of his work. But she also knew that Chelsea was deeply smitten with her Muse. Clearly she had intended to give her a rotten surprise tonight. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  Jonathan softened his voice to a wheedle. “Come on, Chelsea. Odette told me you were a fan. How about giving your favorite author a little head?”

  She winced, more disgusted by the second. How could such a crude man have written the books she loved? “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Stuffing her bra and panties in her purse, she hastily headed for the door. She had only one item on her agenda—finding her Muse again before she lost him forever.

  The hotel room door swung open before she reached it. Professor Deveaux entered with a look of rage.

  “You failed your test, Chelsea,” she spat. “I am so disappointed in you. Then again, I suspected you were conventional at heart.”

  A nasty jolt shook Chelsea to the core. So it hadn’t just been Jonathan watching her from the two-way mirror, Professor Deveaux had been watching as well. A cold feeling of betrayal spread through her body. What the hell was going on here?

  Chelsea forced herself to meet Professor Deveaux’s brown eyes. Anger and malice simmered in her gaze—but so did satisfaction. She wasn’t disappointed in Chelsea at all, on the contrary, she was pleased. She had intended her to fail this last test. Professor Deveaux clearly had a devious agenda that did not match up with what she was telling Chelsea. But why?

  Chelsea suspected it had something to do with her Muse. But she would never find out if she walked out of this hotel room right now.

  “I—I wasn’t expecting…” Chelsea’s temples pounded as she tried to think of a way to salvage this situation. She had to make nice with the Professor if she wanted to attend that Valentine’s Ball in a few nights. But there was no way in hell she was going to have sex with Jonathan Danvers—favorite writer or not.

  Professor’s eyebrows arched. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry.” It galled Chelsea to apologize to this treacherous bitch, but she had to. “It’s just seeing someone so famous, my favorite author no less, I just got so nervous…”

  The Professor ran her eyes up and down her body. They gleamed with a predatory interest that made Chelsea very aware of the skimpy blou
se and miniskirt barely covering her body.

  “Erotics Anonymous is not for the faint of heart, Chelsea. You must prove that you are bold, adventurous, free from conventional moral restraints.”

  “I am,” she insisted. She would say anything right now to get inside that Valentine’s Ball.

  Professor Deveaux ran one long burgundy fingernail down Chelsea’s chest. She held her breath as Professor pushed open her blouse and coolly gazed at her bare breasts.

  “You are beautiful,” she murmured, almost to herself. She turned away. “You can prove it this weekend,” she announced. “Your induction ceremony will be more…demanding than most. But if you are truly adventurous, that won’t be a problem, will it?”

  Chelsea fervently shook her head even as her mind worked desperately. So that was why she had been set up to fail this test, so Professor would have an excuse to put her through a demanding initiation. Just the thought of it turned her stomach, but she knew she would have to be strong. If this was the only way she could see her Muse again, she would attend the Valentine’s Ball and find him.

  Just then, Jonathan Danvers pushed past them, pulling on his pants. “I’ll be there,” he grinned, leering at her breasts. “Maybe by then you won’t be so nervous. Hey, I understand. You’ve probably never had a man like me before.”

  Chelsea pulled her blouse together, swallowed her disgust, and nodded. “I appreciate the second chance, Professor.”

  The limo was not waiting outside the hotel for her this time. Instead she changed back into her school clothes in the lobby restroom and went outside to hail a taxi. During the ride back to the dorm, her mind raced. How could she have been such a fool? Of course her Muse wasn’t Jonathan Danvers. His body was so taut and athletic, unblemished by time. That luxuriously thick chestnut hair was the mane of a young man. He probably wasn’t much older than her.