by Dee Dawning
But was it really a dream, or was it a memory?
It came back to him. Yes, it was a memory. Dede was her name. She was an author doing research for a book. She was so sexy and uninhibited, he never wanted the night to end. On the other hand, the morning when he could get to know this vibrant woman who’d captured his imagination couldn’t come fast enough. He slipped out of bed and went looking for her. He made a cursory circuit of the apartment and didn’t find her, but he found her note on her desk. He decided to make coffee and wash last night off in the shower before waking Kevin with the bad news.
* * * *
“Wake up, Kevin. Wake up, damn you.”
He felt a hand shake him. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids had stuck together.
“Wake up, Kev. She’s gone. She disappeared, but she left a note.”
He rubbed his lids and managed to open one bleary eye.
Vince, continued to shake and hovered over him, his face less than a foot from his.
He rubbed his other eyelid. It opened, but his vision was cloudy. “Who’s gone?”
“Dede, our lover. She’s not here anymore.”
He sat up and glanced at the clock. Seven thirty. It was coming back, beautiful, sexy and talented Dede. That’s who I dreamed about. It came back to him—last night—memories to last a lifetime. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Why would she leave a note unless she left?”
He stretched and snatched the note from Vince’s grasp. “Let me read that.”
Dear Kevin and Vince,
You are both great guys and fanfuckingtastic lovers. I purposely sought out strangers for my research so there would be no connection back to me—ever. I never suspected I’d find strangers like you, who took me on a trip to the stars, and that makes what I have to do doubly hard. I feel bad sneaking out on you before dawn, but it’s best that we leave it as a wonderful experience.
Believe me, you two and the eleven powerful orgasms you delivered were not only the best birthday present I ever had, but last night was the best night of my life.”
I’ll remember you both forever.
XOXO, Dede
P.S. After I finish my book and it gets published, I’ll send special autographed copies for you both.
“What are we going to do?”
He scratched his head and yawned. “I don’t know, pal. I can’t think straight. Why don’t you make some coffee and let me throw some water on my face and at least throw a robe on.”
He handed him a cup. “I already had two cups. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
After taking a shower, he brushed his teeth and shaved. His sexual hangover was gone and he felt much better. Their night with Dede seemed to have instilled an excitement in him. His skin buzzed, almost tingled, with exhilaration.
Vince sat at the snack counter reading the note when he walked in. Poor guy, he seemed to be taking it harder than him. Kevin sat next to him. “Are you all right?”
Vince shook his head. “I looked on the internet. The only Dede Wilson of any consequence writes cookbooks and bakes cakes and, trust me, she’s not our Dede.”
“She’s a romance author and we know her name. I suppose we could track her down. But if we found her, what would we do? She obviously isn’t interested in a relationship.”
Kevin felt Vince’s anguish as he looked at him. “I just want to talk with her. You got to talk with her as a person. I only got to talk with her as a sex object. What was she like?”
“Very impressive. She was clever, intelligent, spontaneous, and quirky. I liked her from the moment I met her.”
“You really think we could track her down?”
He didn’t know, but for Vince’s sake he sounded upbeat. “I think so. It might be a bitch, and take awhile, but I can do it.”
He glanced at the clock on the microwave. It read 8:37. “I feel like breakfast. Why don’t we visit the Lower Eastside Deli? I’ll buy.”
Vince nodded and slid off his stool. “Let’s go.”
As Vince and he hiked to the deli up the street, he tried unsuccessfully to touch base with his feelings. Dede leaving like she did left him with an empty feeling, like he’d lost something important. The problem was he didn’t know what they could do about it. It’s not like they could kidnap her and make her their love slave.
“I know what we could do, Kev. If we find out where she lives, we could kidnap her and make her our love slave.”
Did his brilliant roommate with an architecture degree—the equivalent of a doctorate—just say that? “You are joking, aren’t you?”
He smiled at him and laughed. “Of course. But I’d sure like to.”
The deli was less than a block away, so they visited it and got take out often. As usual, when they entered the Lower Eastside Deli, Saul, the proprietor, greeted them effusively. “And how are my two best gentile customers this morning?” He frowned. “Wait. What’s with the sour faces?”
Vince pursed his lips. “We’re a little down this morning.”
“So I see. What’s wrong?”
They sat down in the center of their three booths. “Can’t really talk about it. Let’s just say we found and lost a good thing.”
Saul turned to his wife. “Gerta, take good care of our boys this morning. They’re blue.”
Gerta, a pleasant looking middle aged lady with a smile on her face brought water and coffee. “Here you go, fellas. What happened? You lose your girlfriends?”
He looked at Vince who looked at him. “Can’t really talk about it, Gerta.”
“Well, when you can, remember, I know all about love.”
Vince glanced up at her from the menu. “Is that right? You’re an authority, huh?”
“That’s right. When it gets slow around here, I read romance novels. Must’a read over a thousand of them. Now, what can I get for you?”
Vince closed his menu and put it in the holder. I’ll have a sesame bagel toasted with cream cheese and orange juice.”
Gerta bobbed her head. “Got it.” She glanced Kevin’s way. “Kev?”
“I’m hungry. I’ll have the pickled herring and an onion bagel. I think I’ll have orange juice too.”
“Got it. I’ll be right back to refill your cups and bring your orange juice.”
“Thanks, Gerta.” Vince leaned over the table and asked under his breath, “What are we going to do?”
He could feel his nostrils flare. “Are we sure we want to find her?”
“I think so. I never got a chance to thank her. I never even got to see her with her clothes on.”
“Believe me, she looks every bit as good with her clothes on.”
Vince snapped his fingers. “I was afraid of that. But it’s not just her looks and that she was a firecracker in bed, I seem have this hole in my stomach, like I should have really got to know her and I missed out.”
Kevin knew what he meant, because he had the same hole. “You know, she’s older than us.”
“Really?”
“Yes, she’s a well-preserved thirty-six.”
Gerta came by and refilled their coffee cups. “Who’s thirty-six?”
Vince and he looked up, eyes wide. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” admonished Vince.
“Then don’t talk when I’m right here. So, I was right, you are mooning over some gal. Is she hot?”
He sighed. “The hottest.”
“Ooh, this could be serious.” She looked over to Saul. “Baby, I’m taking a break.” She sat down next to Vince and studied him, then Kevin. Her brows furrowed and she scratched her cheek. “Which one?”
“Both of us.”
Gerta started to rise, but sat back down. “Both of you? You both dated and fell for the same woman?”
Vince shook his head. “We don’t know. That’s the problem. This woman had the potential to be everything that I want in a woman, but she slipped out of our apartment at five this morning and I feel like I lost something important.”
&
nbsp; “Me too. I have this empty feeling in my stomach.”
“Oh, this is good.” Gerta leaned forward and set her elbows on the table. “You both slept with her?”
They nodded and said, “Ah-huh.”
“Ooh, what a lucky girl. Where did you meet her?”
“At Trends,” Kevin said.
“How long ago?”
He looked at his watch. “About seventeen hours ago.”
Gerta sat up straight, and allowed her mouth to flop open. “You both slept with her last night?”
“Ah-huh,” he said again.
“Oh, this is better than good.”
Just then, Saul yelled, “Order up.”
Gerta rose and said, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”
“Here’s your bagel and cream cheese.” She set the plate in front of Vince. “And here’s your pickled herring.” After setting his plate down, Gerta took a seat again. “Now where were we? Oh yes, I remember. You both had sex with her on a one night stand. Doesn’t that make her kind of trampy?”
“You would think so,” He agreed, “but it’s not that simple. Dede—“
Gerta interrupted, “Is that her name?”
Vince rolled his eyes. “That’s the name she gave us, Dede Wilson, but when I Googled Dede Wilson, there were no famous romance authors.”
“I don’t understand. She’s a romance author.”
Kevin nodded. “Yes, doing research for her next book—a ménage a trois.”
“Looks like she set out to have a threesome.”
“Ah-huh.” He put some herring on his bagel and took a bite. “I guess.”
“So what’s the problem? It sounds like everyone had a great time.”
He sipped his coffee and set the cup down. “The problem is she snuck out in the middle of the night. We didn’t even get to say goodbye. Not that we wanted to. What I experienced was so wonderful, I never wanted to stop.”
“Look, she did this on a lark. Maybe she wasn’t that attracted to you.”
“You think so? Vince, show Gerta the note she left.”
Vince pulled the folded note out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her.
She unfolded and read it. Gerta’s eyes grew round and her fingers tightened on the paper crinkling the edges. She swallowed and looked up at them with a new emotion in her eyes. Was it respect? “She had eleven climaxes?”
“Ah-huh,” They both said.
Vince tried to grab the note back, but she pulled it away. “Hold on. I’m not finished. It was her birthday?”
Kevin nodded. “That’s what she said.”
She handed the note back to Vince and asked Kevin, “Okay, I understand the situation now. What is it you think you want to do?”
“The way I see it, we need to find out her real name and where she lives. Then we can figure out what we want to do.”
“I thought you were a literary agent.”
“I am.”
“Well, can’t you track her down?”
“I intend to try, but it isn’t going to be that easy. There are something like a hundred thousand authors and romance isn’t my gig. Mystery, suspense, and thrillers are, so I’m not even looking in my field.”
“Look, I have to get back to work. What does the woman look like?”
“She’s beautiful,” Vince contributed.
She scrunched her mouth. “I need more than that.”
“She’s five-six, blond hair, blue eyes, with a pretty face—kind of like Kelly Ripa. Why? What are you going to do?”
“While you’re finding out what you can, I thought I’d go through all of my books and associated material and see what I can find.”
Vince’s eyes widened. “That’s right! Most books have the author’s publicity picture on the back cover or the fly leaf.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. Kev. Let me have your card. If I find anything, I’ll call you.”
* * * *
They had high hopes when they left Eastside Deli. Vince went straight for his computer and browsed all day trying to find their sexy little minx, but came up empty. He tried all day the next day, which was Sunday, but found nothing. Kevin found out the next day that Gerta had struck out, too. So far nothing had worked out and it was looking more and more like he was going to have to locate Dede’s real name and address.
Chapter Six
Day Four
Vince lay at her side, caressing and fondling her body, while Kevin positioned his throbbing hardness at the rim of her warm wet well and thrust. His cock glided in smoothly as if it rolled on ball bearings. He moved in, out and around her crème-filled opening, languorously picking up tempo until his shaft pummeled her in a driving rhythm.
His warm, silky shaft was now soothing the fleshy walls of her pussy, which all night had been brimming for action. Her fingers grasped and closed upon the sheets, tugging at them as his powerful thrusts increased, mercifully slamming her wicked well. She could feel the life-giving crimson fluids coursing through her clitoris, adding to her overwhelming excitement, making her feel more alive than ever.
Vince’s mouth sucked her nipple, alternating between nibbling and sucking. His hand found her other nipple, pinching and circling its nub with a finger and thumb. Thrashing her head from side to side, her channel ached for release. Tense fingers dug into her flesh as Kevin’s hefty cock pummeled her harder and faster.
She’d never experienced such a concentration of pleasure. Stimulating pulses careened from her womb to every nerve ending in her body as her inevitable orgasm built momentum.
Suddenly, Kevin moaned like a foghorn, an instant before her body spasmed in ecstasy. “Christ Almighty, baby, I’m coming. God, it feels fucking good.” Every nerve felt charged. Supersonic pulses of energy shot to every outpost of her body as a satiny curtain descended upon her. Fuzzy and over stimulated all at once, it seemed as if someone had injected cocaine directly into her mind. Flashing lights bombarded the inside of her eyelids as shooting stars and relentless crashing waves of concentrated ecstasy washed over her.
She woke with a start and sat up. Another sexy dream with Kevin and Vince. That made three—one per night since her spectacular birthday present. She didn’t know whether to be concerned or revel in the visions of the dream. A glance at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand told her it was 4:30 a.m. Her gown was soaking wet, as was her pussy. She flung the covers aside, swung her legs out of the bed and padded to the bathroom
Following the same routine she had for each of her other dreams, she turned on the light then the shower. After she pulled her night gown over her head, while watching in the mirror, she raised her hands to her plump breasts and kneaded them. It felt good. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations that plucking and pinching her nipples with her fingers bestowed.
A hand trailed downward across her sensual abdomen to her nexus. Fingers dipped into her sopping wet cunt to quench the raging inferno. Brimming with need, she stepped into the shower and finished, for real, what the dream had started.
* * * *
It was Monday morning. Time for him to find out who the mysterious Dede Wilson was and Kevin was raring to go. After showering, shaving and getting dressed, he found Vince in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the paper. He looked up at him. “Well?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I had the dream again.”
His eyes said it all, but he said it anyway, “Me too. Came in my pajamas again. Made a mess, but it felt good. God, I miss her.”
“I know. Me too, but I’m going to sift through the publishing world until I find her.” He poured coffee in his traveling cup. “Gotta go.”
“Good luck,” Vince cried after him as he headed for the door.
In his office, he made a list of agents, editors, publicists, and so forth he knew who specialized in romance. He scratched his head, when he scanned his six-person list. Six fucking people. That’s all?
One of the six was a lady in his office named Sharon. He thought, Well
, I ain’t finding Dede sitting here, so he headed to her office. He didn’t know Sharon that well. It seemed the only time they ever conversed was at office parties. He liked her though, and she liked him—really liked him.
Kevin stood in her doorway. “You have a minute, Sharon?”
She looked up and smiled. “Hi, Kevin. Sure, for you, I could find the time.”
He stepped into her office and sat in one of two chairs facing her desk. “I’m trying to locate something—a phone number, an email address or physical address for a certain romance author.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She snatched up her pen and held it over a scratch pad. “What’s her name?”
Reflexively his jaw tensed in frustration. He shrugged. “Yeah, I forgot. I need to find that out, too.”
She stared at him as if he were crazy. “You know nothing about her—”
“No. I know she’s a romance author and I know what she looks like.”
In a condescending tone, she asked, “Okay, give me her description.”
“She has blonde hair, blue eyes, a beautiful face and a very nice figure.”
The corners of Sharon thin lips curled up and, excitedly, she said. “I know who it is.”
The smug smile on her face should have warned him what was coming, but he leaned forward, impatient for her answer. “Who?”
“Her name is Barbie. I’m not sure of her last name, but I think it might be Doll.”
He sagged in his seat, deflated.
“And last I heard, her boyfriend is named—”
“Ken.” Kevin finished for the smart-ass, b…
Sharon’s eyes sparkled. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t pass it up. My best looking author looks more like Rosie O’Donnell than what you described. I’d be happy to give you the numbers of some other agents I know who handle romance authors, if you’d like.”
“That would be great.”
“No problem.” Going through her address book, she scratched out ten names and numbers and handed the list to him.
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll take you to coffee sometime.”