“He obviously wanted to talk to you, Katy. So what did you do? Stand there and stutter like an idiot.”
In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think what if he’s like him? What if he takes a smile or a hello the wrong way and starts following me around town and showing up where I work?
These were real worries. Or were they? Had I just convinced myself that every guy was going to snap? That was a pretty easy excuse, wasn’t it? It was a really convenient way of keeping everyone out.
“But I’m safe,” I told myself. “For now I’m in control and I’m safe.”
I peeled off my clothes and left them in a pile on the floor. This morning I had pulled out a pair of slacks and a shirt from one of the garbage bags I had packed. My dresser was left at my old place, so it would be a while before I could fold everything up neatly the way I liked. I had some hangers, so I decided while I boiled some spaghetti for dinner that I’d hang up my nicest outfits. I think there were about three of them.
I unpacked two plates, two glasses, and a handful of silverware. There were two pots, one big and the other small, a skillet, a small wooden cutting board, one sharpened carving knife, and a can opener.
As much as I tried to push him out of my mind, I kept thinking about Zac. He was really trying to help in the elevator. How was he supposed to know I was on the verge of a freak-out or breakdown?
“But still, Katy, you don’t know him. Plus, he’s a cop. If anything goes sideways with him, you’ll end up like Stacy Peterson in Chicago. Woman disappears. Husband is a cop. They never find her body.”
What was I saying to myself? This was crazy. Zac Smith was a perfect gentleman, especially for a guy who had blood all over the front of his shirt from breaking up a fight.
I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. I had a figure like my mother did when she was my age. She always seemed to be so comfortable in her skin. Everything was put in the right places, but there was a little extra padding on the derriere and across the bosom.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know what I looked like. But I always felt my body was more of a curse than a blessing. I had to do everything I could to protect myself, and that often meant being alone. It took time to forge friendships. Not too many women are confident enough to have me as a friend, especially if they don’t trust their husbands or boyfriends. Not that I’d ever been any kind of home wrecker. But I can’t help the looks or comments that come out of a man’s mouth.
The funny thing is that they think they know what I am by the way I’m built. No one knows my secret. No one has ever gotten close enough to me. Or maybe it’s me who hasn’t let anyone get close enough. Perhaps a little bit of both.
My computer played some mellow jazz while I finished cooking my spaghetti. I sat down on the floor in the front room with my full plate and dug in. Payday was in just a few more days. Going grocery shopping was almost as tantalizing as Zac Smith was.
“What are you saying? Get a hold of yourself, girl.”
I ran a hot bath after dinner and wondered if Zac Smith ever took bubble baths.
“He’s a grown man who probably only takes showers because he’s so busy hiking and biking. Forget about Zac Smith.”
As hard as I tried, every time I tried to move on to a new project like taking a bath or reading a book or cleaning the kitchen, I kept finding my mind drifting back to Zac Smith and his wavy blond hair and broad shoulders. I also found myself wondering about other things that a woman shouldn’t be thinking of when she barely knew a man. But I couldn’t help myself.
I wondered what it would be like to see him naked. Not just see him but to touch him, taste him, feel every inch of him.
When I climbed into my sleeping bag, it felt cool over my skin that was hot to the touch. It wasn’t a sickness fever. It was a lust. It swiveled and swirled around inside my garden, making my legs splay.
I lay there for several minutes just enjoying the feeling. It was a naughty feeling that I really liked. I wasn’t hurting anyone. I was alone with the front door locked and all the windows secured and the blinds pulled down tightly. This was my new apartment, and I was alone to do what I wanted.
My left hand found my right breast and slowly began to massage it until very lightly my index finger flicked over my nipple. It tingled wonderfully as I barely touched the skin, circling it over and over.
I let my mind wander into that place where I was completely free. There were no boundaries. Zac was there with me. I didn’t want to think of him, but no matter how hard I tried, he pushed his way into my fantasy. He was determined to take me.
The room disappeared and I was back in the elevator with him. We were helpless to make the thing move. It would be hours before someone would rescue us. I looked into his eyes and saw the same lust there that I was feeling.
My right hand slipped slowly down my stomach before lightly brushing against my bush. Without thinking, my legs spread and I gasped.
In the elevator, Zac didn’t say anything. He backed me against the wall and with a touch as gentle as butterfly wings rubbed his lips against mine. Before I could protest, he snuggled his thigh between my legs. I couldn’t control my hips as they slowly began to ride up and down, just as my hand massaged the source of my heat beneath the sleeping bag. A wave of delight starting deep down inside began to radiate throughout my body.
Zac was driving me crazy. His hands circled my breasts and caressed them tirelessly as he let me grind against his thigh. But before I could topple over the edge of pleasure, he stopped. We stared into each other’s eyes. That lust reflected back at me was an intense wildfire.
In my sleeping bag, I held my breath. But I couldn’t wait. The idea of being pleasured by Zac was too much. In the elevator, he quickly pulled up my skirt. He cupped my backside as he slipped his hands beneath my panties, squeezing me before pulling them off.
There was no controlling my hand anymore. I began to tease my pussy mercilessly. I barely brushed the tip of my clit and my body arched, hungry for more. My fantasy was so good. Zac fell to his knees and kissed my stomach, my thighs, and high up between my legs as far as he could go. As gently as if he were kissing my face, he pulled me to him. But then his tongue found my center.
I gasped while spreading my legs wider. I pushed my hips toward Zac’s lips, and in my mind, he wanted more. His strong hands held my hips tightly as his tongue worked slowly back and forth over my wetness.
There was nothing I wouldn’t do at this moment. I begged to get fucked. I wanted him to take me every way he imagined. I wanted to be slutty and horny and get fucked good and hard, but Zac wouldn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he held me tighter as I ground into him. His tongue worked magically over my clit, licking in long, slow strokes before flicking the bud wildly only to slow down to a deliciously slow stroke again.
Every muscle in my body tightened with every flick of Zac’s tongue. I was panting and arching my back to give him all of me, and he was taking it. Over and over my clit was ravaged until it was the only thing I felt. It was all that mattered. It was the part of me that took over and brought me to the edge again. Only this time Zac let me dive in. With feverish intensity, he worked the petals of my flower with his tongue. I bucked my hips like I was riding a mechanical bull. When it became obvious I wanted more, needed more, he used his hand to rub my hot bud in maddening circles until I cried out his name.
“Zac! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop!” I came like a stampede of wild mustangs.
When I finally caught my breath, it felt like ten minutes had passed. I had never been able to pleasure myself for so long and get such a hard orgasm. My body quivered for several moments afterward, and I felt wonderfully warm and satisfied.
As I lay there, I couldn't help but wonder what my hot neighbor was doing down the hall. The truth was that I was probably never going to see him again. In reality, I was never going to get in that elevator, so there was no chance of my fantasy ever co
ming true. Plus, a guy who looked like him, who could make Michelangelo’s David turn green with envy, probably had half a dozen women to choose from who would be happy to help him pass the time.
The thought made me a little sad, but it was the truth. I might have had the body, but I wasn’t the free spirit I was in my dreams. I knew showing too much would get me in trouble. Or should I say it would get me in more trouble?
There would never be the kind of wild and untamed tryst in my future. This is as close as I was ever going to get. I was okay with that. Actually, since I’d moved, I felt a real peace settle for me. It had only been a day, and things could go sideways real fast. But right now, at this moment, I was feeling good.
“Of course you are. You just gave yourself the most awesome orgasm in the history of masturbation,” I muttered into my dark room.
But it was more than that. I think I had successfully relocated myself without leaving a trace behind. I moved away from a toxic situation, and now I could take a deep breath of fresh, clean air. No one knew where I was. In this little town, no one knew who I was or what my history was or that I had been stalked and the police were helpless to do anything about it.
I had gone to the police station so many times but, like in the movies, they couldn’t stop a guy from following me around. If he made a move, that would be different. But so far all he was guilty of was ending up in the same place as me on over three dozen occasions.
“Don’t, Katy. Don’t relive all of it,” I soothed. “Push it out of your mind.”
I did. I had to. I couldn’t dwell on where I had come from when I still didn’t really have any idea where I was going. Would Zac in any way be part of that? I doubted it. But it was fun to fantasize about it.
Chapter Six
Zac
“I’m telling you, man, she’s got me going wild.” I sat at the bar whining to my best friend, Nathan Wilde. Nathan and I had become friends as cadets. Now that we were both on the force, it wasn’t uncommon to see us together. “I don’t even know her name. I’m such a putz. I had her in the elevator. We’re stuck between floors and I’m such a spaz that I ramble on and on and I don’t even get the girl’s name.”
“That sounds about right.” Nathan harrumphed. He wasn’t a beat cop like me. Nathan worked undercover. With a reputation for being the strong silent type, he was the perfect complement to me and my messier tactics.
“Look, you don’t get it. You haven’t seen her. I’m talking liquid sexy. But that’s just an extra bonus. She’s got, I don’t know, something. Something I’ve never picked up on before.”
“And you’ve been picked up a lot,” Nathan jabbed as he took a sip of Coke. Both of us were still on duty.
“Can you be serious for one minute?”
Nathan straightened his back and turned to look at me.
“So, on your first meeting, you yelled at her in the hallway for disturbing your badly needed beauty sleep.”
“Funny,” I snapped. “But yes.”
“Then, you have a perfect opportunity to apologize for your boorish behavior, and you don’t accomplish that. In fact, you botched it up so badly you still don’t have even her name.” Nathan’s expression stayed stoic. “Well, the answer is simple. You owe her an apology.”
“What? Jeez, Nate. Did I really just spill my guts to you for you to tell me something I already know?”
“I can say this for the girl. She certainly has you in a tizzy.”
“I don’t know what that is, but I think you’re right,” I concurred.
“Let me ask you, Zac. What do you do when you’ve got a nut that won’t crack? You catch the perpetrator, but still, he refuses to do the right thing and cooperate. What do you do?”
“I usually bust him up a bit.”
“Yes, of course, but after that. What do you do after that?”
“I switch things up and make him think he’s in charge.”
“What woman doesn’t want to feel like she has the authority? Give the lady a little control. Put yourself in a position of vulnerability. Then, when she comprehends the need for her assistance, she’ll be more apt to react in a positive way.” Nathan arched his eyebrow.
“You think it’s that easy?”
“No. I think if you are serious about this woman, then you need to be serious about your intentions,” Nathan stated flatly. “Are you just looking to satisfy your animal urges that you have yet to control?”
I grimaced. I had been around the block a couple times, but I wasn’t the gigolo of the west coast the way Nathan was making me sound like.
“That’s what’s got me all twisted up in knots,” I admitted. “This woman is different. I don’t know what it is about her. But I can’t shake it.”
“So, if she tells you she has no intention of befriending you in any way and that conversation needs to be relegated to nothing more than hello or have a good day, you’d be cool with that?”
“Well, I wouldn't like it,” I confessed. “But I’d respect it. You don’t think that’s what she’ll say, do you?”
“I don’t know what she’ll say, Zac. I just think you need to heed the advice given by every doctor on the planet. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.”
“Okay, so I need to apologize and accept the fact she might think I’m pond scum. Okay. I’ve got it.” I huffed as I took a sip of my own drink, a Shirley Temple. I liked the cherry that came with it. “But a typical I’m sorry just doesn’t seem to capture how I feel.”
“Why don’t you try setting it to music.”
“You aren’t helping, Nate. You really aren’t.”
My buddy chuckled over his Coke. He rarely ever burst out laughing. This was as cracked up as his demeanor would allow. For him, it was the same as rolling on the floor laughing.
“Zac.” He regained his composure and looked at me. “Just do something nice. Something that she’ll brag about to her girlfriends and coworkers that will make them insanely jealous. The softer sex loves that.”
“I see what you’re saying.”
“But, remember, friend.” Nathan held up his index finger like a stern taskmaster. “If she’s really something special, treat her like that. But be ready to blend into the woodwork if she isn’t interested.”
That night when I got home from work, I did loiter around in the lobby for a few minutes, hoping I might catch her. No such luck. She’d either intentionally avoided coming home at the same time, or I missed her.
I decided it was probably for the best that I didn’t see her. Three nights in a row running into me, she’d surely think I was a stalker of some kind. Nothing was worse than that.
So, I locked myself in my apartment with the cold-case file that seriously kept gnawing at my brain. After a dinner of fruit salad and granola, I did a quick workout and went to bed.
Surprisingly I fell asleep almost instantly. But what had plagued me all day came into vivid focus in my dreams. It was as if my gorgeous neighbor, whose name I didn’t even know, was waiting there for me. The librarian.
When she told me that was what she did for a living, I nearly fainted. But it must have had a bigger influence than I thought. In the real world, I hadn’t set foot in the library for years. Yet, here I was, standing in the middle of the mystery section, and there she was on a ladder, stretching up to replace some book on the top shelf.
I knew if I walked a little closer, I’d be able to see up her skirt. But I also know I’d be Captain Obvious if I did it. That didn’t matter. In dreams, common sense and manners went right out the window.
Casually, I stepped closer to the ladder. She was talking to herself. I heard the soft, velvety sound of her voice, but it was like she was whispering a lullaby. I took another step, pretending to read the spines of the books until I was almost directly beneath the ladder. Her heels dangled over the edge of the step. Before I could stop myself, I looked up. My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes inched their way up her legs. The curves shined. I felt sneaky. B
ut it wasn’t until she stretched one leg back that I looked up higher. That square between her thighs was covered with a lacy panel of cloth. I could feel the heat radiating from her. Did she want me to do something? Should I touch her and let her know I was there? Would she scream for help?
Since it was a dream, I went ahead and touched her leg. I swear it felt smooth and a little oily, like she had suntan oil on. She looked down at me like this was the most natural thing in the world. In fact, she smiled.
I heard her whisper something again in that soft voice, and I just nodded yes. She climbed down off the ladder. The top of her dress was struggling to stay buttoned, and true to dream etiquette, there was no reason for her to try and cover herself up.
Without hesitation, she smiled and took my hand. Now there were people in the library. We weren’t alone in there. Some had their noses buried in their books. Others watched as the librarian led me to a small cubicle in the back corner of the library. It wasn’t a separate room or even a closet. It was just a desk with half a divider around it for privacy except there was no privacy.
“Come here,” she said. I heard those words. She pulled me by the belt loops of my pants to her as she backed up against the desk. Pushing herself up on her tiptoes to sit on the edge of the desk made her thighs instinctively part as I nestled myself in between them. She smiled as I nervously let her take the lead.
She took both my hands and placed them on her breasts. As she showed me how she liked to be touched, her eyes rolled back in her head and she groaned. I looked around but no one had noticed us yet. We were partially hidden by the bookshelves.
I couldn’t help it. I was starting to get into it. The tension in my pants was becoming unbearable. She kept pulling me to her. Before I knew it, she was propping herself up, legs beautifully splayed, pulling her lacy panties to the side.
Without hesitating I unzipped my pants. As I entered her she moaned perfectly like a cat purring. I took hold of her hips and began to rock her back and forth. Her red hair fell partially over her face, but I could see her bite her bottom lip as I slid back and forth.
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