by Dee Dawning
She followed his gaze to dreamboat number two, standing beside her. As she looked into his cool, mountain stream, blue eyes, he flashed the whitest, friendliest smile, she’d ever seen. “Pleased to meet you. How is Rebecca?”
She was surprised, but not shocked. “You know her name?”
“I found out today. Vince doesn’t know yet.”
Vince frowned. “Know what?”
“That Dede’s real name is Rebecca Roth.” Kevin hitched his cleft chin, “Slide over so I can sit next to the lovely Zoe Aaron.”
Ooh, these guys are smooth. I already like them.
Vince slid over a couple feet and so did she.
Taking a seat, Kevin asked, “Where were we?”
Good question. Where were we? With a bona fide hunk on each side of her, she suddenly became even more nervous and couldn’t think. She could now understand the ecstasy Becca experienced that night, and her confusion. Falling for one of these men and losing him would be tragic. Losing two would be devastating.
The waitress set a napkin down. “You want a Heineken, Kevin?”
“Yes, Connie, thank you. With a glass, please.”
Kevin hangs out here.
All of a sudden she remembered Kevin’s questions. “Becca won’t admit it, but she misses you both. She dreams about you.”
Kevin Chuckled. “That’s good. At least I think it’s good for us. And we dream of her—nightly.”
She felt a singe of heat as Vince innocently placed his hand on her wrist. “Then why?”
“Because she has a fragile ego. To quote her, she would like to have had sex with you two for the rest of her life, but she’s positive you’d both tire of her and take your pleasure elsewhere.”
“I suppose that’s a possibility, but we are both very taken with her, and we were crushed when she left like that.”
“Yes, that’s so unlike her. You guys really have her rattled. Rebecca Roth is the strongest-minded, most in control woman I’ve ever met and at the mere thought of you two, she crumbles like a house of cards.”
“So what brought you here?”
“I want to hear your side of the story. If you both want a relationship with Becca or Dede or whatever you want to call her and are sincere about it, I can bring you three together again. However, once I do that, it’s up to you. She is going to need to feel the love, or she’ll panic and run for the hills again.”
Chapter Eight
Fiasco
Having gotten over her headache she was determined to get the anal sex behind her and finish her book. She hated to do it, but saw no choice. She decided to get fixed up and head to a new bar or lounge, hoping to find and lure two new ménage partners into a hotel room. It wouldn’t be hard. Men were always on the prowl, and she knew she wasn’t bad looking.
The problem with Kevin and Vince had been she liked them much too much. They scared the hell out of her. She was determined to not fall into unrequited love again, so she thought she’d start with a type of man that, in the past, hadn’t appealed much to her--burping, farting, cussing, uncouth, beer-drinking blue collar workers. After all, she wasn’t after love. She was after cocks, one in her cunt and another in her rear end.
Despite the fact she was willing to drop her standards for this one night, she drew the line at beer bellies and bad breath. They had to have a decent body, and she’d been around enough blue collar men in her younger years to know that usually meant younger ones.
Therefore, she realized she needed to look younger. It was summer so she picked out a pair of white, low-rise, tight, short shorts, a pink belly shirt that read ‘Yes They’re Real,’ no bra, and a pair of canvas, two inch, wedge-heeled sandals. After donning her ‘easy lay’ outfit, she fixed her hair in a ponytail. Studying herself in the mirror, she decided she didn’t quite look young enough to get asked for ID, but she thought she could pass for twenty-five.
Making sure her twenty-five caliber gun and pepper spray were in her purse, she got in her car and headed to the nearest Pharmacy. There she picked up a six-pack of condoms plus a large tube of lube and headed toward the Jersey Docks.
When she located an area near the docks that had three or four taverns, she went looking for a hotel or motel. She found a Ramada Inn in striking distance near the Newark airport and rented a room on the lower floor.
Now, it was time to visit one of the bars she’d passed. She figured dancing might expedite her seduction, so she pulled her expensive BMW in the parking lot of Gilly’s because the neon sign read “dancing.”
Not surprising, it was dark and smoky. Despite the fact that it was early, about a dozen couples swung to an unrecognized honky-tonk song. She glanced to the left and spied the source of the music—a western dressed quintet. She saw an empty seat at the bar between two young lions wearing cowboy duds. One even wore spurs. She thought for a second, jokingly, I must’ve made a wrong turn and ended up in El Paso.
She sashayed over with a winsome smile on her face and asked no one in particular, “Is this seat available?”
While they looked her up and down, she did the same. They both were young, decent looking, and had lean and muscular bods that looked like they were designed for fucking.
The darker-skinned brown-eyed cowboy tipped his hat and said, “Whoowee! Look at what we have here. If you wanna sit there, pretty lady, go ahead and I’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”
As she slid onto the seat the blue eyed cowboy to her right asked, “What’re you drinking, ma’am?”
She noted they both drank draft beer. She turned to her right and offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Dede. A draft would be nice.”
“I’m Les. Les is more, I always say.”
She grinned. Good thing he doesn’t fuck with his brain.
The music was loud so he leaned in. “Anyway, they have something like fifty kinds of beer on tap. Which would you like?”
She didn’t like Bud, so she thought of beer commercials and said, “Coors or Miller Lite.” While the one to her right ordered a draft for her, she turned left and offered her hand. “I’m Dede.”
He shook her hand. “So I heard. I’m Cole.”
“Are you a cowboy?”
He chuckled. “No, ma’am. I just like cowboy music. I’m a dockworker.”
Les chipped in. “Me too. I work at the docks in Hoboken.”
Cole asked her to dance just as the bartender brought her draft. She lifted her purse halfway over the bar. “Could you keep my purse while I dance?” He nodded and took it.
As she scooted off her chair, she noticed Les frown, so she grabbed his hand. “C’mon, I’ll dance with both of you.”
The band announced, “By special request, we’re going to play three slow songs in a row for all you lovers.”
On the dance floor, they really got into it. Lights were low and smoke wafted through the air, creating a nebulous haze as they swayed from side to side, to the beat of the mildly romantic slow song.
Dancing behind her, if you want to call it that, Cole ground his rigid manhood into her behind to the rhythm driven beat. Tattooing damp kisses on her neck, his lips sent shivers through her, as his hands reached under the hem of her belly shirt and fondled each breast. Goosebumps rose on her arms as he whispered in her ear. “Darned if they aren’t real—nice too.”
That alone would have been enough to have her scampering for the nearest bed, but on top of that, Les’s hands roamed her body while his hardness pushed into her abdomen. Her spinning mind clouded with lust, and when he slipped his middle finger between her legs and rubbed her clit through her shorts, she was practically theirs for the taking.
When the third song ended, she’d heated up enough that she headed back to the bar for a deep sip of beer. After downing the twelve ounce draft, Cole ordered another for her. She drank it almost as fast. Les started to order her another one, but she pulled his hand down. “I’ve had enough for now. Somebody just left a table over there, can we grab it?”
Cole said, �
��Sure, let’s go.”
She got her purse back from the bartender and they grabbed their drinks. They arrived just in time to keep a couple from grabbing it. Cole slid in, followed by her, then Les. There wasn’t an inch between the three of them and Les and Cole picked up where they’d left off on the dance floor. Within minutes Cole had her belly shirt up and sucked on a nipple. Les took the low road and had double fingers in her twat.
What are you doing?
I’m halfway to the hotel room. What d’ya think I’m doing.
Since it was Cole and Les’s equipment she was interested in and not getting to know them, she decided to speed things up even faster than they were doing. The band took a break and now she could make her pitch. Sure, she would sound like a tramp, but did she care what Cole and Les thought of her? Making sure she had their attention, she spoke under her breath. “I’m only in town for the night.”
Les said, “Really, where are you from?”
She waved his question off and went on. “When I’m in a new area, I like to have a blast.” She waggled her brow. “If you know what I mean.”
They didn’t say anything, but they edged forward waiting for her to go on.
“Like I said, I’m ready to have a blast and since there’re two of you, both of you could give me a double-barreled blast.” She blinked her lashes. “Are you interested?”
Practically drooling, they nodded heartily.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” came back the double-barreled reply.
“Good. I should tell you this. I like it in the ass too. Do either of you have a problem with that?”
Their heads shook earnestly. “No, ma’am,” Cole said exaggeratedly.
“Okay, one last thing. I haven’t had it in the ass for awhile so you’re probably going to have to warm me up.”
They both nodded and Cole said, “I know what to do.”
She took a pen from her purse and wrote her room number on two cocktail napkins. “I’m staying at the Airport Ramada Inn at this room.” She handed the napkins to them. Then she slid a plastic key to each of them. “I’ll be waiting for you there. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Les got out of the booth to let her out and rubbed his hand all over her ass as she scooted past him. She smiled at him. “See you at the hotel.”
As she started to walk away, Cole yelled, “Wait up. We’ll walk you to your car.”
You’re goin’ to do it? You’re actually gonna fuck these cretins? Her pessimistic side interjected.
You know I have to get this over with.
Not with them, you don’t.
Who then?
Kevin and Vince.
These guys aren’t that bad.
And Kevin and Vince are hot as a college bonfire.
We’ve been through this.
I think you’re out of your mind.
If it’ll make you feel any better, I’m going to pretend Cole and Les are them.
In your dreams. I know you’re out of your mind, now.
She turned her head back and looked into their hungry eyes. She began to have misgivings. Ignoring Cole, she turned away and headed for the entrance.
“Wait up, I said,” Cole yelled again as she crashed through the door.
As she realized she couldn’t have sex with those guys, she panned the parking lot in a panic for her car. She spotted it about fifty yards to her left and strode toward it. A couple teens were messing with the doors, but scattered when she shouted, “Hey, get away from my car.”
Halfway to her car, her blood curdled when she heard the sounds of running boot heels accompanied by Cole’s angry yell. “Wait up, dammit, baby.”
She turned and they pulled up. She stared at them and they stared back. She still felt she needed to do this, but not with them. She wondered if they sensed her change of attitude.
Les held out his hands and demanded, “What?”
All she could say was, “I’m sorry.” She turned and continued toward her car.
She heard one of them, she wasn’t sure which. “You can’t just change your mind like that after getting us all primed.”
He was right, what she did was rotten, but all of a sudden she couldn’t go with them—she just couldn’t.
The other one, probably Cole, yelled, “If you don’t stop right now, you cock tease, we’re gonna drag you back to my pick up.”
The other, Les, said, “And if we do that it ain’t gonna be pretty.”
Her left hand slipped into her handbag and wrapped around the object she sought.
She was already frightened, but when she heard them running to catch her, she was terrified. Someone grabbed her from behind and wrapped arms around her chest. She heard Les’s voice, “You are coming with us, bitch.”
Instantly, Cole stood right in front of her. His arms reached out to her belly shirt and ripped it right down the front. As her breasts popped out and felt fresh air, she kneed Cole where it hurt. He bent over squirming and held himself. “You fucking bitch, I’m going to kill you.”
Les’s arms tightened around her chest and one hand squeezed her left breast so hard it hurt. “Slap the bitch, Cole, and help me drag her back in the truck.”
She knew if she didn’t get away, they probably would kill her. She could still see the pain on Coles face from her low blow. But it melded with the hate in his eyes. As he reached back to slap her, she kicked him in the balls again—harder. He crumpled onto the floor holding his groin, writhing in pain. With surprise still on her side, she raised her right foot and smashed it down on Les’s instep with everything she had. His scream was deafening. Instantly, he let go and started hopping on one foot. She walked around Cole and was almost home free, but Cole lashed out and grabbed her around the ankle. Before she could pull her foot free, Les wrapped an arm around the thigh of her other leg.
By now, a few Gilly’s customers stood by the entrance to see what was the commotion was. She screamed, “Call the police. I’m being attacked.”
She had no idea if they would call. She figured it would take too long to help her anyway, if they did, so she operated as if she were on her own. She tried to jerk away from both men, but their holds held tight.
Les yelled, “Where do you think you’re going, cunt?”
“I’m going home.” She swung around just enough to douse his eyes with pepper spray. His hands went instantly to his orbs and his howl had to be loud enough to drown out the jet engines taking off on the runways a half mile away. “My eyes, what did you put in my eyes?”
When Cole saw what happened, he let go of her ankle and raised his hand up and to the side. “You win, lady. I don’t want any more of you.”
She nodded to Cole and spoke to Les who was lying on the asphalt, his hands still covering his face, “I’m sorry, Les. It’s pepper spray. Go back in Gilly’s and pour water on it. It’ll reduce the pain, but I’m afraid it’ll last a half hour. Leading you on was wrong, and I’m sorry about that, but what you did in response was even worse.”
She held the belly shirt closed and walked around Cole, who still had his hands up and hurried to her car.
Cole’s parting shot was actually a compliment. “Damn, lady, I’ll bet you’re a fucking tiger-cat in bed.”
She smiled at what he said, but she knew she was lucky to be walking away. Her body shook all the way home and she resolved to never mention a word of what happened to Zoe, or anyone else for that matter.
Chapter Nine
Day Twenty-One
When Zoe arrived, Becca asked her into her office.
Zoe sat in the chair across from her desk and crossed her legs. She was dressed up for a change, wearing high heels and a short, sexy, floral dress. She looked better than Becca had ever seen her look.
Zoe smiled at her. “Good morning. Did you get over your headache?”
“I did, thank you.” She tilted and hitched her head. “What’s the occasion?”
Her forefingers pointed to her dress just above her
breasts. “Oh this? I woke up and decided to get in touch with my feminine side. You like it?”
“Very much.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands. “Zoe, I wanted to let you know, I’m not going to be able to write the anal sex scene unless I can figure out a way to experience it.”
She uncrossed her legs and sat straight. “I figured that after yesterday. Are you going to call your dreamboats?”
She banished the melancholy mood that entered her mind. “I wish, but it’s not in the cards.”
“Why? It would be so easy.”
“I know it would, but it’s bad enough that I dream about them every night. If I went back to them for this, I might get addicted and you know what happens to an addict when the object of their addiction is withdrawn.”
Zoe squirmed in her seat. “You are going by the worst case scenario. What if you never got cut off?”
She tittered. “Zoe, we’re not dealing in fairy tales here. They may be like Prince Charming, but I’m not Cinderella. I knew both of them less than eight hours total. I probably had more strokes in my pussy from their cocks than meaningful words exchanged between us. Then there’s the biggest hurdle, I’m almost twenty-five percent older than them. The odds that they would want me for the rest of my life are a hundred thousand to one.”
Zoe shifted in her seat and re-crossed her legs. “And people win lotteries at worse odds, but they would never win if they didn’t enter.”
Becca shook her head at the faux analogy. “When people buy lottery tickets, they are playing with their money, of which they can make more, but they aren’t risking their hearts.”
Zoe looked disappointed. “Then what are you going to do?”
“Today is Friday. I want to have this over with by the end of the weekend. The only problem is my heart isn’t into the idea of going out looking for strangers again. What do you think of hiring a couple gigolos?”
Her eyes got so wide that Becca noticed for the first time she wore no glasses. “What do you mean? You want to pay to have sex? You are gorgeous.”