A Girl Walks into a Bar
Page 17
“And I’m this way,” he says, pointing in the opposite direction. You notice piles of boxes scattered on the carpet outside his apartment. “They’re mostly books,” he says. “They arrived earlier this evening.”
“Well, welcome to the area,” you say. “I hope you’ll like it here.”
“I do already,” he says, smiling his sexy crooked smile.
“Night,” you say, waving as you walk to your door and let yourself into your apartment, your heart beating just a little faster.
Click here.
You’ve decided to drop in on Melissa to tell her about your adventures
YOU PRESS THE BUZZER next to her apartment number. You can see from the street that Melissa’s bedroom and living room lights are still on, so she must be home. But there’s no response when you try her cell. It rings and rings and then goes to voice mail. What is she doing? You’re dying to tell her about the crazy night you’ve had.
You dial again, not caring if you’re waking her up. Her phone goes to voice mail again, so you hang up and lean on the buzzer one more time. You don’t plan on letting up until she answers.
“Hello?” you hear through the intercom eventually, her voice slightly muffled.
“Finally! Let me in—you won’t believe what I’ve been up to tonight.”
There’s no response, but the security door buzzes open and you push through into the lobby and take the elevator to Melissa’s floor. You tap on her door quietly with the back of a knuckle. It opens at last, but only a crack, so you can just see her face.
“Hey,” she says, out of breath, her cheeks flushed.
“Did I wake you up?”
She shakes her head.
“You’ve got to let me in, I’ve got so much to tell you!”
“I can’t,” she whispers, and when she takes her hand off the door to tuck her hair behind her ear you notice a black satin ribbon tied to her wrist. She grins. “You’re not going to believe what happened to me, either!”
“What? Wait, have you got somebody in there with you?”
She nods and flushes again.
“Oh my god!” you squeal. “I thought you were working late?”
“I was,” she whispers. “But then my boss came back to the office after his meeting, and we started chatting after everyone else left, and then he opened a bottle of wine, and we had a couple of glasses, and, you know, one thing led to another . . .”
“Hang on,” you say. “Are you talking about your controlling bastard boss?”
“Shhh!” She giggles. “Yes. But he’s not so bad. Turns out we have a lot in common. And I’ve never said this to you before, but I’ve always thought he was kind of hot. I mean, aren’t all bosses supposed to be a bit controlling and forceful? But when you look beyond that, there’s something about this guy . . . It turns out he’s totally wild,” she says, grabbing your hand, the soft silk tied to her wrist falling against your arm.
“You bad girl!” you say, beaming at her excitement.
“I’m really sorry I stood you up—truly! But it’s been one of the wildest nights of my life!”
“Don’t be sorry,” you say. “It’s been a pretty wild night for me, too!”
“Look, I’d better go,” she says, glancing back inside the apartment.
“Call me in the morning?”
“It is the morning!”
“Later,” you laugh, squeezing her hand. You lean in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and she smells like a mix of cedar and leather. It’s slightly familiar, but you can’t quite place it.
Melissa closes her door, and you press the elevator button. At least you weren’t the only wild girl tonight. As the elevator arrives, you hear what sounds like a slap from inside Melissa’s apartment, leather on naked skin, immediately followed by Melissa’s voice crying out, and you can tell it’s in pleasure, not pain. You grin again—you can’t wait to swap stories.
TIME TO HEAD HOME to contemplate your adventures. But maybe you should stop in and see if your local coffee shop is still open . . .
To head straight home, click here.
To go home via your local late-night coffee shop, click here.
You’ve decided to go home to your Rabbit
AT LAST, YOU’RE STANDING in the lobby of your apartment building. It’s late and your feet are killing you. These heels are supersexy, but there’s a price to pay.
There’s a pile of cardboard boxes on the floor in front of the elevator, but there’s no one nearby. You’re curious about who’s busy lugging boxes around at this time of the morning, so you lift one of the flaps and peek inside. It’s full of books. You can’t resist—you pull one out and are peering at the back-cover blurb when the elevator dings open and a man steps out. You stare at each other for a second, and then he says, “Hello. I wasn’t expecting a book thief at this hour.”
Embarrassed, you drop the book and snatch your hand away. “I wasn’t taking it,” you explain, flushing.
“No?” he says. “It certainly looks like you were.”
Then he smiles and you realize he’s teasing you.
“Since you’re here, would you mind holding the elevator open for me for a second?” he asks, and you oblige while he picks up the top two boxes. You can’t help checking him out as he bends down. The muscles in his arms under his checked shirt flex as he lifts the boxes. He’s tall, with dark tousled hair that’s just half an inch too long, black-framed spectacles, and a fuzz of early-morning shadow. He’s not classically good-looking, but there’s something appealing about his slightly crooked smile.
“Who moves this late—or early, more like it?” he comments as he dumps the boxes inside the elevator and goes back for the other two.
“I was wondering about that. Sneaking around moving boxes at this hour, you’re either on the run from the police or in witness protection.”
“Damn, you’ve blown my cover,” he says as he hefts the last two boxes into the elevator. “Actually, I moved in three days ago. These are the last of my things—they only arrived earlier this evening. But if I’d known how heavy they were, I might have left them behind.”
“So you waited till now to move them?”
“I’m a writer, so procrastination is what I do best. I was working late, and I was hoping if I left them down here long enough, they might grow legs and walk upstairs by themselves. Or get stolen. If I hadn’t come along when I did, you might have helped with that last option.”
You both reach for the sixth-floor button at the same time and your hands brush. It’s like getting a small electric shock, but a good one.
The elevator dings open on the sixth floor, and he motions for you to step out first.
“No, don’t worry,” you say, leaning against the door. “I’ll hold it so you can get your stuff out.” You’re aware that your motives are not entirely pure: you’re offering to help partly so you can admire him hefting boxes for a few more minutes.
“Did you have a fun night?” he asks as he steps past you.
“Not bad,” you say, “but I’m glad to be home.” The passage is littered with more boxes. “So, we’re neighbors, then,” you say, stating the obvious.
“Apartment six-ten,” he says, putting the box down and pulling a key out of his pocket to show you.
“Apartment six-oh-one,” you say, fishing for your own keys in your bag.
“Hey, maybe you could show me around the area sometime?” he says, retrieving the last of his boxes. “I hear there’s a fantastic coffee shop down the road.”
You’re taken aback, but pleasantly so. Is he asking you out? Maybe he is. “Yes, it’s pretty good. They make great hot chocolate,” you say.
“I’m more of a coffee man myself, but I’m happy to try everything at least once. So hot chocolates are on me. It’s the least I can do to thank you for your elevator assistance. How does tomorrow night sound?”
You pretend to think, consulting an imaginary calendar in your head, while inside you’re silently
screaming, Yes, I want to lick hot chocolate with extra whipped cream off your body! You manage a gracious nod: “Thanks. That sounds like a plan.” Then you wave and walk to your front door. You manage to get the key into the lock, even though your hands are shaking a little. Just before you slip inside, you turn and see he’s still standing and watching you, that lopsided smile on his face.
YOU’RE HOME AT LAST. It’s been a strange night. All that sexual tension and all those false starts have left your whole body thrumming, in desperate need of relief.
The first thing you do is pull off your shoes and drop them at the door, then you shed your dress, bra, and G-string as you walk through your apartment.
You’re completely naked by the time you reach your bedroom, feeling your nipples rise and your breasts goose-bump as the cool early-morning air slides over your skin. You run your hand down from your neck, between your breasts and over your belly, then slide your fingers between your legs, where you find yourself hot and wet. You consider lingering, but you want to get fresh and warm and comfortable first. You need to wash the night away.
You make the water in the shower as hot as you can bear it and let it strike the top of your head and run down your face while you soap your entire body into a lather.
When you finally step out, after a long, leisurely shower, you wrap yourself in your thickest, thirstiest, most luscious towel.
You brush your teeth, rub your hair dry, and cover yourself from head to toe in body lotion. Then you walk naked through your apartment, turning off all the lights. Finally you slip into bed, luxuriating in the feel of crisp fresh sheets against your bare skin. At the end of the day, there’s nothing more blissful than your own bed.
Your heart picks up speed as you slide open the drawer in your bedside table. There’s something so naughty about a vibrator. Small ripples of anticipation run through your pussy as you lift out the box and tear open its voluminous packaging.
The Rabbit is the cutest pink color, shaped like a very generous penis, the only difference being the little branch sticking out the side of the shaft, toward the base. You’ve never seen this design on a vibrator before. The end of the branch contains two little buds that stick out just like bunny ears. You prod them with your finger and they bend under your touch. You reach for the packaging and try to figure out what the little ears are supposed to do. According to the accompanying pamphlet (which gives instructions in French, Japanese, and English), they’re clitoral stimulators.
The grip fits snugly in your hand, and just above your thumb are four little buttons with different settings. You press the first button and the gadget vibrates gently against your palm, setting a thrill running through you.
You can’t stand the suspense anymore—you’ve been teased and taunted and played with all night, and your body is aching for relief. You can feel the wetness seeping out of you, dampening your thighs as you slip the Rabbit under the covers and run it down your chest on gentle vibrate, tracing the tip of the shaft first over one nipple and then over the other. You squirm as you track the Rabbit farther down your stomach and over your mound.
Then, your breath starting to come a little faster, you place the tip of the vibrator at the very top of your pussy and let the gentle tremors titillate your clit. You let out a small groan, and shift it slightly to the side—it’s too intense to have it touching your clit all the time, and you don’t want to come just yet.
As slowly as your needy body will allow, you run the vibrator up and down the length of your slit, until it’s slipping and sliding in your wetness. Then finally you bend your knees and arch your back as you find your opening and slip it slickly and easily inside you. You use your hand to push it in as far as you want, then pull it back a little. You repeat the action, and as you pump the vibrator deeper, there’s an entirely new sensation as the bunny ears massage your clit every time you move your hand.
Suddenly your new neighbor flashes into your head, and you imagine that it’s him inside you, his muscular arms braced beside you, holding his weight as he rides you slowly at first, then harder and faster, and you picture that lopsided smile, and feel his fingers on your clit as you push your head back against the pillow.
Ready for more intensity, you shift to the second button with your thumb, and the power goes up a notch, vibrating slightly harder, but it’s not enough, so you skip level three and push the Rabbit to its most powerful setting.
You tilt your pelvis upward to meet it every time you plunge it inside you, feeling it vibrating within you, radiating out until you’re groaning audibly and bucking your hips, your eyes tight shut, panting, until you can feel your orgasm coming toward you like a runaway train, and you know there’s no stopping it. Your toes curl as it shakes through your body, first one orgasm, and then, as you keep the Rabbit going, another. They’re so intense that you put both your feet flat down on the bed and brace yourself as the waves of energy course through you.
And then, completely, entirely spent, your damp hair cooling your hot neck on the pillow, you slowly work your way through all the buttons, going from level four back to level one with your thumb, eventually turning it off and dropping your new best friend. You stretch your body out, enjoying the aftershocks. Then you turn onto your side, ready to drift off, with a sigh of satisfaction. Life is good. In fact, it doesn’t get better than this.
The End
Teaser
You’re invited . . .
Coming June 2014
Your best friend is getting married and she’s asked you to be her bridesmaid. So many decisions. For starters, do you ask the gorgeous but mysterious man you met online to come as your date? Or do you go solo, giving yourself ample opportunity to kick up your heels and scope out the talent?
Once the wedding weekend gets under way in a romantic country setting, all kinds of adventures are on offer. Will you ditch your date? Duet with the hot DJ? Dodge the disreputable best man? Or perhaps the rugged pilot you meet in the bar will open up unexpected erotic opportunities—and who knew the maid of (dis)honor had such a sultry streak?
All this while steering your way through the bachelorette party, the bride’s wedding jitters, the Dress from Hell, and more. Perhaps the most tempting option is to flee the entire affair with a tall, dark stranger . . . or maybe an old friend surprises you with a sizzling encounter.
YOU make the decisions—fulfillment guaranteed. It’s your fantasy, your rules. The choice is yours . . .
About the Authors
HELENA S. PAIGE is the pseudonym of authors Helen Moffett, Sarah Lotz, and Paige Nick. HELEN MOFFETT wears many hats: freelance writer, editor, researcher, poet, academic, and flamenco fan. SARAH LOTZ is a screenwriter and novelist with a fondness for fake names. She writes urban horror novels with author Louis Greenberg under the name S. L. Grey and a YA pulp fiction zombie series with her daughter, Savannah, under the pseudonym Lily Herne. PAIGE NICK is an author, award-winning advertising copywriter, and a weekly columnist for the Sunday Times (Johannesburg), covering everything from sex to dating and general lunacy.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Also by Helena S. Paige
Coming soon:
A Girl Walks into a Wedding
Credits
Hand lettering by Julia Gang
Cover illustrations © by Shutterstock
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A GIRL WALKS INTO A BAR. Copyright © 2014 by Helena S. Paige. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced,
transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-06-229197-4
EPub Edition February 2014 ISBN 9780062291981
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