The Chronicles of Stella Rice: January

by Adrienne Kama

  “We’re going dancing at Club Blue. It’s some trendy new club a few blocks south of The Belvedere.”

  “Club Blue isn’t new, babe. It’s been there for years.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  Ann grinned. “You wouldn’t.”

  As though sensing something interesting happening, Meagan set her fork down. “What’s up with Club Blue?”

  Ann chuckled to herself. “What a bunch of prudes. Club Blue is a fetish club.”

  “What kind of fetish?” I asked.

  “Fetish as in BDSM. Bondage, domination, sadomasochism,” she translated for those of us still confused.

  My mouth fell open and Katarina simply stared. “You’re lying,” she blurted at last.

  “I don’t lie about sex.”

  “Well maybe I heard him wrong, or I misunderstood.”

  “There you go,” Meagan, concluded, pretty much summing up what the rest of us were thinking. “There’s his imperfection. He’s gonna take you to dinner then beat the crap out of you.”

  Ann laughed. “What I wanna know is if he’s a sub or a Dom.”

  Katarina, looking too much like a deer caught in headlights, darted panicked looks around the table. “I’ve never been to a fetish club. They won’t expect me to do anything, will they?”

  “Only offer your body up to the Doms for their pleasure?”

  Katarina frowned. “I hope you’re kidding.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  1/14/05 8:19 a.m.

  Katarina is a dead woman. That’s all I have to say on the subject.

  Can you believe she had the nerve to not show up for class today, leaving me alone to deal with Crazy Jake?

  Since I mentioned Jake anyway, I have a few questions regarding his behavior, which is, in a word, odd. When had Jake started taking such an interest in my “form”? Aren’t there thirty-three other people in class beside me that he could bully?

  How come every time I made a mistake, Crazy Jake was right there to acknowledge and correct it?

  Was he touching me more than necessary, or was I losing my mind…I’m probably losing my mind.

  Was Crazy Jake getting better looking by the day? As crazy as this sounded, I think so.

  With my mind full of these and similar thoughts, I pushed through the outer doors of Stay Fit and stepped onto the sidewalk, only to find the skies had opened and let loose with a deluge of ice cold rain.

  Shaking my head in growing ire as my ankle-length, leather coat was pelted with rain drops, I cursed Katarina again for not coming to class. Had the little hussy shown up, I wouldn’t be standing on the sidewalk getting drenched with a three block walk ahead of me.

  NOTE TO SELF: Must buy a car.

  I was stepping into the rush of foot traffic on the sidewalk when somebody called my name.

  “Stella!”

  Argh. Have I said how much I hated hearing my name shouted?

  “Stella!”

  Dear God, would he—whoever he was—stop.

  I looked past the throngs of people rushing to and fro in front of me and spotted the speaker sitting in a car idling at the curb. When I realized who the driver was, I gaped.

  Jake drove a Jag. Not just any Jag either, but a black Jaguar XJR. Damn! He was gorgeous when he was inside the gym, but sitting in a black Jag, he was downright irresistible.

  “Looks like you need a ride,” Jake called to me. One leather-clad arm was visible as he leaned out his window and motioned me over.

  Squinting against the flecks of raining spilling over my hood and plopping fatly on my face, I shook my head. “I only live a few blocks north. I can walk.”

  Don’t ask me why I said this because I’ve no idea. As soon as the words were out, I damned myself in seven languages for being a fool.

  “I’m heading that way anyway. Get in.”

  It seemed Crazy Jake was just as domineering out of class as he was in.

  My mind raced. Did I want to get in a car, alone with Jake and let him drive me home? Well, why wouldn’t I? I’m attracted to him and there’s the smallest of chances he’s attracted to me. Who knows what could happen. Maybe I could get a dinner date out of the deal. I’d have to put my “man vacation” on hold but that wasn’t a big deal.

  That mean inner voice we all have, the one that seemed to revel in putting us in our place just as we’re beginning to feel good about ourselves, said, “You can’t go because you’ll probably say something stupid, like, gee Jake, from what I saw on Monday you have a huge cock. Can I see it?”

  “You’re getting soaked,” Jake advised me unnecessarily. It was pouring so hard there was a white mist hovering in the air.

  Deciding to take Jake up on his offer, I walked to his car and got in the passenger side. I’d scarcely shut the door before Jake rocketed away from the curb and into traffic.

  “Where to?”

  I used the sleeve of my coat to wipe water from my face. “Mount Vernon. I live a few doors down from the Washington Monument.”

  We drove the short distance in silence, which was more than a little frustrating. In the few seconds it had taken me to walk from the doors of Stay Fit to his car, I had envisioned a number of possible erotic encounters. His silence, however, spoke volumes. An interested man would initiate conversation, attempt to get to know more about me. Instead, Jake stared out the windshield as he drove and didn’t utter a sound. On the bright side, I supposed it was good to have my fantasies dashed early on. It was clear that Jake’s interest in me didn’t go beyond that of instructor.

  The car was unbelievable with a leather interior, kickass sound system, and every amenity a guy could buy. Sitting in Jake’s car was like melting into butter, or at least how I imagined melting into butter must feel.

  “Mind if I come up and use your bathroom?” he asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  “Bathroom? Oh, turn left here. It’s that building there, the brown one.”

  “Too much water this morning,” he explained.

  At first I thought he was referring to the rain, but then I realized he was still talking about the bathroom.

  As he spoke I saw he was driving past my building and had decided to look for a parking space. He found one, across the square, and did an expert parallel parking job that somehow made him seem even sexier than he had five seconds before. (I’m not even going to attempt to explain this.)

  “Yeah, you can use my bathroom,” I said, hoping to God I hadn’t left dirty panties lying on the floor this morning.

  Five minutes later he came sauntering out of the half bath and stepped into the kitchen where I’d just put on a pot of coffee. He seemed incredibly interested in my décor. He was surveying his surroundings as though he were contemplating purchasing everything in sight. A few of my cabinets had glass doors, which made it conveniently easy for him to see what was inside. He went to one of the other cabinets and pulled the door open, frowning at the oversized coffee mugs and teacups within.

  “You must drink a lot of coffee,” he said.

  “And cocoa…hot chocolate.”

  He slid his index finger over my cream-colored, granite counter tops then studied it for dirt. “You could eat off these counters,” he said with approval. “Very clean.”

  “What the hell are you doing, Jake?” I wanted to know. “You gonna call the dirt police on me if you find any dust?”

  I depressed the “on” button on my television’s remote control and pointed it in the direction of the family room, which sat off the kitchen. Instantly, Fox and Friends appeared on the screen.

  Grinning, he came around the center island toward me. A sudden desire to flee swept through me, but I managed to control the urge. Jake seemed too big, entirely too male to be in my kitchen. The flowers I kept on the island, the ornately decorated plates and glasses I kept displayed on the breakfast bar, even the bright pattern of my tiles seemed suddenly less feminine with him around.

  He’d removed his coat and the sight of that body i
n tight jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt nearly undid me. He was too good-looking for his own good…and for my own good. It was inevitable that I’d say something stupid if he stayed too long, or do something stupid.

  “It’s always interesting to see how someone keeps their house.”

  “To you maybe, not to me.”

  He stood so close I could feel his body heat. The delicious, musky aroma of him filled the air around me. His hair, pulled into a wet braid, smelled like sweet apples. Everything about him was intoxicating. It was impossible to be within ten feet of this man and not get turned on. My panties felt damp between my thighs as trickles of arousal saturated them. My body hungered for Jake as it hadn’t for any other man.

  He hadn’t done or said anything to merit my response, still, a churning of excitement deep in the pit of my stomach had me biting my inner cheek and struggling for control. Being this close to this man was enough to send my hormones into overdrive. I thought if he actually touched me, I’d orgasm on the spot.

  “Want some coffee?” I offered in a voice I barely recognized.

  “You just worked out, now you’re having coffee? Did you eat anything this morning?”

  “I can’t work out on a full stomach.”

  His emerald eyes bore into me. Again, they roved my body as casually as if he owned it. My breasts, my thighs, my hips. More disturbing, his hungry gaze made me feel indescribably carnal.

  “You’re too thin,” he deiced. “For a woman your height you should weigh a hundred and twenty-five pounds at least. What are you, one-fifteen? One-seventeen?”

  Though I was still aroused, I rolled my eyes. “Too thin is one-ten, one-oh-five. I’m one-seventeen and I think my body is fine. Anyway, I thought men liked that waif look.”

  “Hmm, a woman with no hips, no thighs, and no breasts. Let me think about that.” He paused then continued, “Stella, the only men who want a woman without hips, thighs, and breasts are men who are into twelve-year-old boys. A woman should look like a woman, not a little boy.”

  I eyed him. “So you’re saying I look like a little boy?”

  “No. But you could stand to gain some muscle. You’re too weak, an easy target.”

  Again, I rolled my eyes. “Not this again.”

  “You are. You should at least think about taking my self-defense class.”

  “I don’t want to take your stupid self-defense class, Jake. I don’t need it. I carry pepper spray with me at all times.”

  “Pepper Spray?” he repeated, incredulous. “What’s pepper spray gonna do when you’re confronting a guy my size?”

  “Stop him dead in his tracks.”

  “You have to be near the guy to be sure you get the spray in his eyes. Get close enough, and even if you spray him, there’s a chance he’ll get his hands on you.”

  I turned away from him and filled my mug with coffee.

  “Nice ass,” he said, almost to himself.

  I stiffened, decided the best route to take with that comment was to completely ignore it. I pretended I didn’t hear him. “I know how to handle myself.”

  “Really? Okay, let’s try something.” He walked to the breakfast bar and lifted my key chain from the counter. “Take them,” he said, offering the keys with the pepper spray dangling from a key ring.

  Reluctantly, I walked to the bar and took them. “What am I supposed to do with these?” I asked.

  “Where do you usually carry it? In your pocket?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “Good. Put it in your pocket, the way you would if you were outside.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  I shoved the pepper spray into the pocket of my jeans then stared at him. “Now what?”

  “Now, we play a little game. I want you to walk around your house. Walk anywhere you want, look at anything you want.”

  “And what will you do while I’m strolling?”

  “Waiting. When I think you’re at your most vulnerable I’m gonna attack you. When I do I want you to pull the pepper spray out of your pocket and try to spray me. That’s all you have to do. Once you have the pepper spray out of your pocket and pointed at me, the game ends and you win. I’ll never say another word about the self-defense class again.”

  I studied him for a moment, sure I’d missed something. “Let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be some woman walking around the city streets and you’re going to pretend to be a criminal who attacks me? Then you want me to spray you?”

  “Don’t actually spray me, just point the spray at me…if you can. I want you to see how useless pepper spray is if you don’t know the basics of how to defend yourself.”

  I considered his challenge and grinned. A morning spent wrestling with Jake? There were far worse things in the world I could be doing, like some push-ups, kickboxing, and exercising in general. But I doubted I could find anything else that would be half as interesting. “You’re on.”

  He smiled at me. “You seem confident.”

  “All I have to do is point this stuff at you. It’s not the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “What do you say we up the ante then?”

  “Up the ante? How?”

  “If you win, you only pay for classes through June, the rest is free.”

  I think my mouth fell open. I don’t remember exactly if it did, but it must have. “If you win?”

  “You go out with me on Saturday night.”

  Of their own accord, my eyes darted down to his crotch. His cock seemed to pulsate with a life all its own.

  I considered his proposal. Could I really go through with this? Could I really go on a date with Jake if I lost the bet? Was this really something I wanted to do? Yes, yes, and yes! Besides, Jake was right, this would be fun. And it wasn’t like going on one date with him—if I lost—constituted a serious breach in my vacation plans.

  I stared into his eyes and gave him a slow, deliberate nod.

  He grinned. “Go on then. I’ll wait in here a few minutes then come looking for you.”

  I nodded again.

  By the time I was standing in front of the sofa table in my living room I was wondering if I should purposely lose. As tempting as he was, only having to pay for a half year’s worth of gym use was too good to turn down. I’d have to go with the discounted gym rate. If Jake liked me enough to try to win a date, there was no reason why he wouldn’t properly ask me out later.

  I scanned my living room from the golden colored walls to the thickly stuffed sofas, looking for someplace to mount a defense. I considered grabbing the poker from my fireplace but decided against it. If I were walking the city streets I wouldn’t have a poker with me.

  I considered making a stand in the sitting room by my piano. I had a heavy, faux crystal candy dish on it that would definitely make a great weapon should I need one. I could pretend the dish was something else, a large bit of debris maybe, or even a—

  “Don’t move.”

  Jake’s voice startled me so much that I nearly jumped out of my skin. I tried to run. Unfortunately, the sofa table hadn’t moved in the last five seconds. Instead of running forward, I ran smack into it, slamming my head so hard against the edge that I saw stars. Then I slid to the floor and landed on my back. I was quick about flipping onto my knees though. I turned over and began to crawl away but was stalled by a hand on my ankle.

  The surprise of his voice coupled with my unexpected fall made me a little more jumpy than the situation merited. Logically I knew the hand could only belong to Jake, but emotionally I felt it could belong to anyone.

  I screamed. And I kicked.

  Neither had the desired effect though. The hand on my ankle—the strength of it stunned me—began dragging me away from the sofa table and across the floor.

  Damn, I thought. I had to do something, and fast. The competition couldn’t end so quickly. It had barely started. If I lost too easily, he’d think I lost on purpose just so I could have a dat
e with him. That would be too embarrassing for words.

  The hand was joined by its mate and Jake gave me a tug hard enough to make my arms go out from under me. I fell flat on my stomach.

  Pepper spray.

  The words flashed in my head like the answer to a prayer. All I had to do was find the pepper spray, point it at him and the game would end. I would be the winner.

  Struggling to fight him off with a series of quick kicks, I reached down for my pocket. I let out a gasp of surprise when sudden weight came down on my prostrate body. All at once I couldn’t move or even breathe. I tried to roll over but realized I was being pinioned to the floor by the weight of Jake’s body.

  For a moment the weight disappeared as Jake crawled my length.

  I had barely decided on a plan of action before he completely threw me for a loop by flipping me onto my back. What was left of my air was crushed out of my lungs as he straddled my chest, his two hundred plus pound body pinning me to the floor.

  It wasn’t too difficult to see I was on the losing end of things. I should have been angry. But I wasn’t. With Jake atop me, the muscles of his inner thighs flexing as he rode my writhing body, anger was the last thing on my mind. A potent rush of lust surged through me. My quim hungered for attention, and was suddenly quivering with the need to be touched. I realized that I wanted Jake to do more than wrestle me into submission. I wanted him to spread my thighs and impale me. I was desperate to know what it was like to be made love to by such a man, to feel the stiff flesh of his erection throbbing inside of me.

  Determined to put up a good fight despite my inner yearnings, I kicked and tried to twist, but the man was as solid as stone. I struggled like a mad woman and he effortlessly took my hands, one by one, and pinned them beneath his knees. In this position, he didn’t have to do anything but sit and wait for me to give up and admit defeat.

  “Still think you can handle yourself, Stella,” he taunted. “What good is your pepper spray now?” To prove his point, he pulled the pepper spray from my pocket and waved it in front of my face. “I could spray you with it.”

  Even with my arousal, the smug look of satisfaction on Jake’s face made me long to get a hand free so I could slap him.