Fantasies of a Housewife

by Tina Pollick

  "I hired a male escort for you," Liz blurted out.

  A beat of shocked silence passed.

  Then two.

  Shay shot up from the swing, whirling around to stand over her sister-in-law. "You did what? I don't even know what that means. You hired a prostitute for me?" Her voice became louder, angrier, with each statement.

  Liz stood as well and reached for Shay's arm. "Honey, listen. Calm down. You don't want the girls to hear." In something near a whisper, she continued, "And he's not a prostitute, not exactly, he's a ... companion. If things go any further than dinner and talking, well, that's a decision between two consenting adults."

  Shay pulled away from Liz's grasp and searched her face. "I just ... I don't ... why would you do something like that?" A hurt she couldn't explain stabbed at her heart and crept into her voice. "You think the only way a man would want to be with me is if he's getting paid?"

  "Oh no. No, Shay. I can name five guys right now that would come running if you just gave them any little bit of encouragement. The problem is honey, you never do." Shay sank back down to the swing, and Liz followed, reaching for her hand. "I know for a fact you haven't been with a man since my no-account bastard brother. Well, here's your chance. No complications, you don't have to worry about introducing him to your girls. For once, for just a little while it will be all about you, what you want, and you having a good time."

  Shay struggled to process everything. "So he's coming here, to my home? How do I know he's not a serial killer?" Several thoughts crashed through her brain at once. She continued, "And where's he coming from? Did they put a gigolo rental store on Main Street somewhere?"

  Liz laughed despite the storm of emotions in her eyes. "He's coming up from Phoenix. His company has a really good reputation, they're very discreet. They do background checks before hiring, and they even do monthly health screenings."

  Shay stared at her, confused. "Screenings?"

  Liz reddened. "Uh, you know, for STDs and stuff."

  "And stuff," Shay repeated, blinking. Holy hell. "Look, Liz. I'm still not sure I understand why you did this, and I'm trying real hard not to be angry, but there's just no way on God's green earth I'm gonna bump nasties with a random stranger who may or may not give me some disease."

  "So don't have sex with him. No big deal. Just enjoy his company. Drive into town, go to the steakhouse and have a nice dinner, then send him back to the city."

  Shay shook her head. "Why are you so hell bent on this, Liz?"

  To her surprise, her sister-in-law actually teared up. "I just want you to be happy, and I know you're happy with the girls, but I think you're lonely a lot of the time too. I was hoping this would remind you that not all men are douche bags." She paused and dug in her purse for a Kleenex before continuing. "I was hoping this would show you that it's okay to open yourself up a little ... you know, to possibilities."

  At a loss how to respond, her own eyes moist, Shay stood and quickly dabbed away tears as her daughters came out the front door, both hauling backpacks fit to burst.

  Shay cleared her throat, working past the lump of emotions settled there, and smiled at her girls. "Ready, ladies? Do you have everything?"

  "Yes mama, including toothbrushes!" Annabelle assured her.

  "Perfect. Now promise me you'll use them."

  "We promise," they said in unison, her youngest enthusiastic, her oldest with a tone just shy of sarcasm. Adolescence wasn't too far away, heaven help them all.

  For a moment, Shay remembered Kylie as a dimpled, chubby toddler. Damn, now she's almost a teenager. And I have been a single parent for exactly half of her life. As horrified as she felt by Liz's actions, some part of her was intrigued, very intrigued, at the thought of a no-strings-attached weekend with a man.

  The girls encompassed her in a group hug before heading for Liz's car, their movements clumsy under the weight of their bags. They looked like top-heavy stink bugs skittering across the sand.

  Liz leaned over, pulling Shay in for a quick hug and whispered, "Do what you're comfortable with. If that means turning him away at the door, so be it. Love you, girl."

  Shay sighed, then nodded. "Love you too. Take care of my babies. Let me know if they get to be too much, and I'll come get them."

  "Okay, you got it." A grin on her face, Liz added, "He's supposed to be here at 7:00." With that she whirled around and soon her taillights blended with the last rays of the afternoon sun.

  7:00.

  Thirty minutes.

  Holy shit.

  Shay dashed into the house, trying to remember the last time she'd shaved her legs. Not that it mattered, she wasn't planning on doing anything, but just in case ...

  Fifteen minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, odds and ends freshly shaven, towel drying her long brown hair and trying to decide what to wear.

  Her doorbell rang.

  Shiiiit.

  What kind of an escort is fifteen minutes early?

  She quickly darted back into the bathroom and slipped on the yellow sundress she'd worn all day. Damn it Liz, you could at least give a girl adequate warning.

  Taking a deep breath, she spoke aloud. "Okay Shaylene. You're not a coward, you can handle this."

  Wishing desperately for a glass of wine, or even better, a shot of tequila, she forced her legs to cross the living room and her shaky hand to open the front door.

  Holy fuck he was gorgeous.

  Six feet of masculine perfection stood on her doorstep. Only vaguely aware of his wide shoulders and broad chest, his eyes commanded her attention. Stormy gray and piercing, they were exquisitely framed by his thick, dark hair.

  Coming back to herself, realizing she was staring, she cleared her throat and gave him a polite smile. "Um, hi," she managed, then fought the urge to grip her face in her hands. Smooth Shay, real smooth.

  He returned her smile, his genuine. "Hi there. My name's Derek. Saw your lights on, and figured since it's not quite dark, it would be okay to come over and introduce myself."

  Not quite dark? Doesn't most of his business occur after sunset?

  Deciding to just go with it she reached out and clasped his fingers, giving them a quick shake. "I'm Shay. Nice to meet you, Derek." It surprised her to realize she meant it. "Come on in, can I get you something to drink?"

  "Actually, you wouldn't happen to have any iced tea, would you?"

  Shay grinned. "Always."

  She ushered him in and gestured to one of the cushioned stools next to the kitchen island. He sat, his long legs stretching out in front of him, his jeans pulling taut in all the right places. Struggling to keep her eyes from his crotch, she busied herself with their drinks.

  "So," she said, grasping for conversation, "you had a pretty long drive today?"

  "Yeah, up from the city. Four hours. Love it up here though, the clean air, no traffic."

  She laughed and added, "No shopping, dicey cell service. But hey, we've got great cow tipping 'round these parts."

  He chuckled, a warm, rich sound. A masculine sound.

  And in that moment she decided-- Oh, what the hell? Why not?

  A woman could get by on battery-powered release for only so many years before insanity threatened. She missed strong hands, a deep voice, and truth be told, she missed the scent of a man's sweat. Most of the time she could ignore what wasn't in her life, but tonight, everything was laid bare. And everything was going to be laid bare ... if he was willing.

  She pushed away her glass of iced tea and looked him full in the face, holding his silver gaze.

  "Okay Derek, you know, I'm not quite sure how to go about this, so I'm just gonna lay my cards on the table. I'd like to have sex with you, if you're willing and interested."

  His eyes widened and his lips parted. A long second passed before he responded. "Um, okay. Wow. Is this something you do a lot? Proposition men?"

  She gave a dark laugh. "Oh god, no. This is a first for me, in a lot of ways. I never do anything like this." She
searched his face, still seeing remnants of shock. Was the idea of sleeping with her that repugnant? Mortified, she stared at the floor and quickly said, "You know what, forget about it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have presumed ..."

  He was off the stool and lifting her onto the granite countertop before she could finish. He wedged his tall body between her thighs and leaned in close, his breath hot on her neck. "Darlin', presume away. I take it you're unattached? Not married?"

  Surprised, she lifted her hands to cup his face and gave him a soft smile. "That matters to you?" It probably wasn't the best business practice for his line of work, but the fact he was willing to take such a moral stand made her feel good. Made her feel safe.

  "Of course it does. So please, tell me you're not married." He groaned and dropped his head to rest a cheek high on one breast while he waited for her response.

  Strangely touched, she answered, "No, I'm not married. Not anymore. And it's been a long time since I've been with anyone." She struggled to say the next words, but it had to be done. "Um, I know I'm clean, disease-wise, but ..." she trailed off.

  He lifted his head and met her eyes. "I'm clean too. We're good. But damn it, I don't have any condoms. Not on me."

  "Really?" Apparently her concept of 'male escort' was far from reality. "I don't have any either."

  But his hands were already skimming up her legs, bunching her sundress, and pushing it to the side. "It's okay, I can still make you feel good," he said, voice a rasp. Then his fingers slid up her thighs and danced back and forth, teasing, inches from where she really needed them to be.

  Her hands stretched out behind her on the counter, supporting her weight, and she arched her back, her breasts jutting toward his face. "Please," she said.

  Smiling a close-lipped devious smile, he kissed along her chest as first one finger then two slipped into her wetness. And his thumb. Oh god, his thumb rubbed her little nub exactly right as those long digits slid in and out of her.

  She spread her thighs wide, feet dangling over the counter, openly panting. She wanted to savor his touch, wanted to draw out the moment, but the heat was building too fast. She wasn't going to last.

  Realizing her eyes were squeezed shut, she forced them open and saw him watching her.

  "Come for me, Shay," he demanded and sped up his movements.

  A cry burst from her lips as her inner walls contracted around his fingers. Delicious, hot euphoria exploded from her center and spiraled outward.

  Gasping, trying to fill her empty lungs with air, she collapsed backward onto the cool granite. He followed, those talented hands now moving to massage her breasts as his lips met hers for the first time.

  His tongue had just slipped between the seam of her lips when the doorbell rang.

  Confused, enveloped in a haze of passion, it took Shay a moment to understand. Then she jolted up, panicked. "Somebody's here. It could be my girls. You need to hide!"

  She pushed him away and hopped off the counter, adjusting her clothes and patting her hair as she swiftly crossed the living room and looked through the peephole.

  What the hell?

  It seemed a middle-aged Elvis wannabe stood on her front step.

  Cautiously, she cracked her front door and greeted him. "Can I help you?"

  He grinned at her. "Baby, I think the better question is, how can I help you?"

  "Pardon me?" her voice rose with outrage.

  For a moment, his face fell. "Oh. My instructions said you were expecting me. I'm with the agency. Sorry I'm late, this place really is the boonies."

  The agency?

  Then who the fuck is in my kitchen?

  "Agency?" Derek asked from right behind her.

  Realization dawning, she turned to the Elvis man. "Thank you so much for your time, but your services won't be needed. Um, is it customary for me to tip you?"

  If anything, the man looked relieved. "No, no. That's all been taken care of. Frankly lady, it gives me the creeps to be out here. It's so dark. And are those wolves?"

  "Coyotes," Shay supplied, smiling.

  Elvis scrambled back to his car, and she turned to Derek. "So, that was the male escort my sister-in-law hired for me for the weekend. The male escort that I thought was you."

  It took a few moments, but understanding filled Derek's eyes and a slow grin stretched across his lips.

  If she hadn't been such a lust-addled idiot, she would have figured it out sooner. Psh, no condoms.

  "She do that often, hire you prostitutes?" Derek asked, his tone neutral, though humor lurked in those silver orbs.

  "Nope. First time. She thought I needed to break my dry spell."

  "How's that working out for you?"

  "I'll let you know." She arched a brow at him. "My new neighbor, I presume?"

  He tipped an imaginary hat. "Yes, ma'am, that's me."

  She smiled. "Well, how 'bout we go finish what we started? Besides, I can't send you home in the dark, the coyotes might get you."

  The End.

  If you enjoyed this, try: http://www.amazon.com/The-Phantom-Psychic-Paranormal-ebook/dp/B00B5O87UK/ref=pd_sim_kstore_8

  Her Daytime Lover

  By

  Adera Orfanelli

  The door buzzer blared again, drawing Anya from the latest episode of As The Station Turns. Her one hour of peace to watch the exploits of Raul and Leiana try and make their relationships work. Walking backwards, Anya kept her attention focused on the screen. Leiana was making an impassioned plea to Raul that they should try once again.

  “I’m sorry, Leiana,” he replied. The camera closed in on a dramatic angle, showing off his vivid blue eyes and the endearing swoosh of brown hair that fell over his forehead. Anya’s fingers itched to brush the silken strands away.

  “Say it,” she whispered under her breath.

  The buzzer sounded again.

  “I’m coming,” she yelled.

  “I’m in love with another woman,” Raul said.

  The camera panned to Leiana’s stricken face, though anyone could tell those were fake tears. Her mascara wasn’t even running. Then again, with Leiana’s rumored salary she could probably buy super expensive model mascara, too.

  Anya stopped at the door and turned. She took a deep breath and made sure she didn’t have any flour on her blue shorts. She’d been baking a pie, her husband’s favorite flavor. She checked the view screen and gasped.

  Raul stood on her doorstep.

  The closing credits of the soap played in her living room, though Anya barely heard them. She opened the door, noticing her hand shook as she pressed the button. “Hello?” she said, her voice more tremulous than she’d wanted it to be.

  “Hello,” Raul said, sounding as sexy in person as he was on her screen. He wore a white shirt, unbuttoned half-way down his chest to reveal his tanned, smooth skin. His white slacks molded to his thighs and legs perfectly, and his black shoes, probably expensive Vandebian leather, were polished to a shine. “Are you Anya Derhauttenssater?” He didn’t stumble over her last name as most people did.

  “I am. Will you come in?” Thankfully her manners hadn’t escaped her and she stepped aside to allow him to enter. The unit she and her husband Jackse had wasn’t one of the largest on the station by any means, but it was nice. A large foyer and living room was divided from the food prep area by a low counter and a couple of bar stools. A door led back to the master bedroom and bath. A second door led into a smaller bedroom that Jackse used as his office. He oversaw the team of concierges who handled the Ambassadors stationed here, and often brought work home when he was working on a particularly exotic request. “Please make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Raul stopped and leaned against the counter. “You are not surprised that I’m here? You know who I am, don’t you?”

  Her cheeks heated. “You’re Raul Sy’suddeth, the actor. I know who you are.” And I’ve fantasized about you for a very long time. She licked her lips
and tried to smile the wife of an important official smile she used at events. “I’m a little curious, but my husband is a very important man. I have seen more than the average housewife on this station.” She bit back a chuckle, thinking about the time when the Ambassador from Exocelita wanted a thousand dubiastic beetles, a delicacy on his planet, delivered to the station. Jackse had been up late for weeks trying to arrange customs passage for so many of the very expensive, and fiercely guarded creatures. “Are you here for Jackse? I’m afraid he’s working late tonight.” Again. She kept her dismayed sigh inside. If the actor was here for him, she didn’t want to give a bad impression.

  “Ahh, you are as beautiful and as well-spoken as Jackse said you were.” He stood and flashed a smile that made her knees weak. He moved to stand in front of her and brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheek. The gentle caress sent heat to pool between her thighs. Her nipples beaded, no doubt clearly visible behind the pale yellow halter top she wore. She’d planned to cook and clean today; she wasn’t dressed for seduction.

  “I’m—I’m sorry.” Anya took a deep breath to steady herself and looked away. “I’ll tell Jackse you stopped by.”

  “I’m not here for Jackse.” His deep voice rumbled across her already heightened senses, making her wonder if that’s what he sounded like in bed.

  She turned her head to look up at him. “Oh,” she breathed. “I—” Words failed her. Her lips parted, her breath held as she waited for his next move. Her blood heated, the warmth in her pussy turning to a throb of want. To have him touch, caress…she’d needed to be loved for so long. Jackse couldn’t help his long hours. He was home when he could be, and he took care of her. But it’d been a few weeks since they’d made love, and even their most recent time had been hurried, more perfunctory than sensual, and it hadn’t cooled the ache that had been building inside her.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, though every cell of her body screamed to take him up on what the heat in his gaze promised. “I’m a married woman.”