by Anthology
In my closet, I locked up my weapon and hung my gear, and when I came back out, I found her going through my kitchen cabinets. As she reached onto a shelf, her shirt lifted and revealed the small of her back.
“I hope you don’t mind me poking around. I thought I’d set the table,” she said, over her shoulder.
“Not at all.” I walked toward her, and she turned, resting her weight against the counter. She eyed me up and down, biting her bottom lip. What I would have given for even a glimpse of what she was thinking.
I placed my hands on her hips and drew her closer. “Adela…” I began, but the scent of her hair, like the first breath of fresh air after a winter storm, drifted up my nose and stole my words.
“Hmm?” she purred.
“I…” I began, still hoping for the right phrase to spill from my lips. All I knew was I didn’t want the morning to end at the pizza.
She searched my face and her lips turned upward. “Kiss me, Aiden. And don’t stop this time.”
She closed the distance between us, pressing her body against mine. My fingers tangled in her hair, and I took her lips, plunging my tongue in her mouth. Fuck the pizza; I’d been starving for her all night. A quiet moan came from the back of her throat, and the sound drove me to the brink of insanity.
I traced my hands under her shirt and unhooked her bra. I tugged them both over her head and quickly removed my shirt, leaving everything in a heap on the kitchen floor. I carried her to my bed, her legs wrapped around me and her breasts pressed to my chest lost in a sea of lust. I removed every shred of clothing, mine and hers, and laid her in the middle of my bed. Her creamy, winter skin was flawless and untouched by even the smallest hint of sun.
Her hands roamed her flesh, and her lips curved into that sexy grin again. I took just a moment to enjoy the vision and then crawled next to her.
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you tonight.” I spoke against her neck, cupping her breast, and her heart pounded under my fingertips.
“The way you looked at me…I had a hard time concentrating on getting drinks.” Her laugh was deep and throaty as she held me to her, guiding my lips.
My hands trailed down the narrow curve of her waist to the slight swell of her hips. I wasn’t sure I’d ever wanted anything as much as I wanted her. “Thanks for letting me kiss you at midnight.”
“I didn’t have a choice in the matter, in case you were wondering.”
Our lips found each other’s, and my fingers trailed down the soft skin of her thighs. Her legs spread, and I dipped between them. She was warm and wet, arching her back and pressing herself into my hand. She moaned, rolling her hips in small circles, and worked herself into a frenzy while I fought for air between every fevered pant. This girl, she was going to make me come before I even had a chance to be inside her.
“Aiden,” she breathed, pressing harder and harder against my fingers. “Oh my God…oh my God.” Then she whimpered, and her body pulsed against me. Jesus, if I thought I was going to come before, this nearly destroyed me; I was going to explode just watching her and hearing her sounds. I continued to move my fingers slowly in and out until each beat weakened more and more before fading away.
We lie still for a few moments until her breathing slowed, but my body lusted for hers. If this was all I got of her, though, I’d never complain; that was one of the hottest things I’d ever experienced. But then she skimmed my stomach and took me in her palm, working her hand up and down my shaft from the base to the tip. Her touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I fought against giving into her simple touch. She rubbed a small dot of moisture over the head and worked it around, releasing the tiniest sound like she’d bitten into something delicious.
“You’re driving me crazy,” I said through an exhale with closed eyes.
“Show me how much,” she whispered, nibbling on my ear.
Her words flooded my body with heat; I wanted nothing else. I covered her body with mine and thrust inside her. My balls tensed, and the tingling sensation I knew so well built quickly and threatened to reach its peak, but there was no way this was ending already. I slowed my motions as her tongue and lips sucked my neck. Between heated breaths, our moans filled the air. Soft fingers ran down my back, and her fingernails dug into my ass, forcing me deeper.
“Harder,” she grunted, countering my thrusts.
A well of pressure climbed, and the tingling that had radiated in my balls moments before returned with a vengeance. And that was it. I lost control and showed her with each powerful plunge how much I’d wanted her all night, giving into every dirty thought. Within seconds her cries melded with mine, and her first pulse around my dick was all I could take. Spasms racked my body, each stronger than the next until I collapsed on top of her.
I stayed still for a moment and caught my breath then slid next to her. I pulled her into my arms as she rested her head on my shoulder.
“So,” she whispered, stroking my chest, “I never got to hear your story. Why do you hate New Year’s?”
“Hated, I think is a better word.”
“Hated?” She perked up and looked at me.
“I hated New Year’s…until now, until I met you.”
She smiled. “Me too.”
Our lips met, and I could have easily kissed her into the next day, but her stomach let out a growl that made us both chuckle.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Now more than ever,” she said against my lips with a soft laugh.
“How about breakfast in bed?”
“Em, that sounds fantastic.”
The Right to Remain
By Emme Burton
I was a little pissed with myself for even entertaining the notion of going out on amateur night, aka New Year’s Eve, but I did it anyway. It had the potential to be one of the worst decisions I could make, but I needed to shake off a little tension. Usually, I’d be working, like most of the precinct because people get crazy on December 31, but I’d worked Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and I’d covered for Kelso, the captain over in vice, during the week between Christmas and New Year’s. He had kids. I was single. It was the right thing to do, but I was really looking forward to knocking off for the next couple days.
Something nagged at the back of my brain as I slipped on my black eyelash lace cocktail dress. It was very conservative in the front with its high neckline and long sleeves, but the back was open down to the top of my ass, and revealed every muscle I’d worked so very hard to tone. I pushed the strange apprehension out of my mind as I continued to dress and finish my makeup. Where I was going, I knew it would be dark, so I applied heavy cat eyeliner and tons of mascara over my nude eye shadow. I countered that with a deep red lip. Gazing at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of my door, I took in the whole effect. My long deep brown hair cascaded over my shoulder in soft waves. Every curve of my five-foot-seven frame on display. Not many people saw me like this. Hell, the other police officers at 69 wouldn’t even recognize me if they saw me on the street. At work, I kept my hair in a tight bun. I wore black thick-framed glasses, minimal makeup and one of five polyester pantsuits in dark colors from JCPenney I’d bought strictly for the job. No one there knew I could look like this, and that’s the way I wanted it.
I’d worked long and hard and spent many a night chained to my desk to get where I was in the NYPD. I’d reached a level of success not many women in my field achieved—captain of a homicide unit. All the power. All the control. I commanded men and women, and I was serious at all times. But it took its toll and I had a dirty secret.
This look was reserved for the nights when I went into Manhattan to the Upper West Side to ANON. The nights I went to ANON, I even hid what I was wearing and where I was going from my parents.
I’d called a car service and when I received the text my car had arrived, I scooped my hair up into a much looser bun and put on an overcoat to conceal the revealing nature of my dress.
I ran downstairs , st
opped briefly at the entrance to the living room and said, “Good night, Mama, Papa. Happy New Year. Don’t wait up for me.”
My parents wished me Feliz Año Nuevo and insisted on a kiss from each before I left. Which I gladly gave them. As I left the house, they said in Spanish they were glad I was going out.
At thirty-five years old, I still lived with them in the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn. The upper floor of my childhood home had been converted into an apartment. I lived here because was single, and I had no interest in any kind of relationship.
Relationships, I’d learned, were deadly. Any dream of love and a family life was snuffed out fifteen years ago when the World Trade Center was attacked and fell to its death, taking with it my heart, Yadier. We were desperately in love. Both twenty years old and ready to start a life together. I was studying criminal justice at St. John’s in Queens. Yadier was a sous chef at one of the finest restaurants in New York City, Windows on the World, in the North Tower of the World Trade Center.
We’d both left for our respective places of work and study on that clear, bright Tuesday morning and a few hours later, he was gone. Along with seventy-one others in the restaurant and the thousands of souls that were in the towers or had responded to the disaster.
In an instant, my world, New York City, the United States and the entire planet was never the same. At first, I’d responded as you would expect, shock. Then I’d disintegrated. I’d never told Yadi good-bye. My only consolation was that the last words I said to him were, “Te amo, mi corazon.” It was little consolation.
I was beginning my third year at St. John’s that fall. Having already received my associate’s degree, I thought to go on, get my bachelor’s and eventually go to law school. I missed a lot of school. I couldn’t concentrate. If I allowed myself to feel, I would evaporate into a puddle of tears, so I pushed it all down, hardened myself. I’d eventually come to the conclusion that I’d had no power to change the situation that crushed my life’s dreams, but I did have the power to crush people like the terrorists that took my Yadi. It was at that point in my life when I entered the police academy and became an officer. I’d risen rapidly to captain primarily because I was focused on nothing else. I did that by keeping my heart locked up and my physical sexual needs met in an organized, non-emotional businesslike matter. That’s where ANON came in.
My favorite driver, Tino, stood next to the passenger door and opened it just as I stepped off the stairs.
“Good evening, Miss Miranda.”
“Good evening, Tino.” Before I slid into the back seat, I noticed that the luxury sedan was extremely shiny and was immediately struck by that new car smell.
“Tino? Did they give you a new ride?” I look into the rearview mirror to make eye contact as we talk.
“Yes, Miss, we got a couple of new Cadis in. The boss assigned this one to me. You’re breaking it in tonight.”
“I’m honored.”
Tino turned around and addressed me without benefit of the mirror, “The same destination as usual, Miss Miranda.”
I smile. Tino is one of my regular drivers. He knows the address on the Upper West Side without me repeating it. “Of course, Tino. There’s nowhere else in Manhattan I need to go.”
Tino knows the address. I don’t know if he knows where it is I go inside the old, distinguished, residential hotel that was converted to condos.
After the half hour drive out of Brooklyn, across the Williamsburg Bridge over the East River, through town, passing by Central Park, we arrive. We’d passed many New Year’s Eve revelers on the way to Times Square and I was relieved to be celebrating in a different part of town. I let Tino know I would only be an hour or two and that I’d text the service when I was ready. As I exited the car, Tino wished me a good evening and he’d try to be my driver for the ride home.
I wondered briefly if Tino had any idea where it was he brought me when he drove me into Manhattan. The thought left as fast as it arrived.
I entered the building and took the fifth elevator, which required my ANON key card to activate. The elevator descended to the lowest level of the building and when the doors opened, I instantly exhaled all the stress of the past few weeks since my last visit.
ANON, short for Anonymous, was my relief and release. As a “lifestyle” club, it was designed as an exclusive venue for sex. It was initially started for swinging—couples coming to find other couples—but now there were areas for males looking for males, females looking for females, doms, subs and switches. Really, whatever your heart’s fantasy, it was available at ANON.
Though I considered myself a Switch, I indulged in almost all and took on the part of the dominant or submissive, depending on who I found interesting or what sort of mood I was in on any given night. I would occasionally, swing, but a single female is sort of sexual unicorn in that world. I preferred men to women but was not opposed to threesomes.
That night, I stood in the entryway. I had no idea what I wanted. I hoped just walking through the club and seeing who was there would influence my choice. One of the hostesses asked if she could take my coat, so I shrugged it off and handed it to her. She gave me a small pink ticket with a number on it. I tucked it into my clutch.
When I looked up, my eyes instantly locked onto a man across the room, standing to the left of the U-shaped bar. He was already staring in my direction. I looked away to scan the immediate area, the police officer in me always at the forefront, but when I returned my gaze to where he was standing, he was still focused on me.
I walked up to the bar and the man, who was taller than I was by at least four inches, sidled up next to me. I couldn’t help appreciating the way he smelled, clean and spicy. My cop brain had also noted everything about him physically. From the look of his muscles, evident through the sleeves of his grey and black striped button-up shirt, he worked out. Light brown hair cut in a fresh fade, stubble, about two days’ worth of stubble, and light skin with some freckles on his nose. He had eyes the green of a Heineken bottle, was probably eight to ten years younger than me.
Mmm. I turned my head and smiled prettily.
“Hey, I’m Seamus.” Mr. Stubble and Green Eyes offered his hand in introduction.
I shook it and replied, “I’m Star.” I never used my real name at ANON. When I was here, I wasn’t on the job. This was my time.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I laughed out loud. “Seamus, you do know this is a private club, right? I’m assuming you’re a member? The drinks are free.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s the only thing I could think up on the fly to say.”
I nodded. “Good one.”
I turned to Kirk, ANON’s longtime bartender and was about to order, when Kirk did it for me.
“Scotch, rocks, I got you, girl.” He was about the only person that could get away with calling me “girl.” Kirk looked at Seamus, “What about you, Seamus? Heineken?” That coincidence was not lost on me.
“Yeah. Thanks, Kirk”
Kirk knew Seamus. He even gave him the “bro” upnod and then winked at me. Practically an endorsement.
“So, come here often?” Seamus asked and then shook his head in embarrassment.
I couldn’t let the opportunity to tease go. “You are Mr. Original, aren’t you?”
“I’m usually much cooler than this, but I gotta tell you, and I’m not blowing smoke, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
I looked around the club. There were younger and prettier women than me here. “You must have been hiding under a rock or something.” With a sweep of my hand, I indicated to all the beauty in the room.
“Under a rock. Yeah, something like that. Work has kept me pretty busy lately.”
“I know how that goes.”
“Really, what do you do?”
I loved it when someone asked me this at ANON. “I’m a law enforcement officer.” I told the truth because in a place like this, nobody believed me and I thought it kept m
en on their toes.
Seamus’ eyes widened, an eyebrow went up and he leaned into my ear and whispered, “Ha! What a coincidence. So am I.”
I turned my face toward him. We were inches apart. “Okay, then we shouldn’t talk about it anymore.” I put my index finger up to my lips and husked out, “Shh.”
“Hey, the bar area is kind of noisy, maybe we could go someplace quieter to ‘talk?’”
At ANON, “someplace quieter” was code for “a private room,” and “talk” was code for fuck. That was exactly what I was here for, and Seamus looked as if he would work out fine.
“Sure,” I replied, picked up my scotch and downed it in one. “Lead the way.”
Seamus took my hand and led me toward the back of the club. I looked down at our intertwined fingers. No guy at the club had ever done that before. He was treating this like a date, not a hookup.
The private rooms at ANON were classy. Like mini, hotel rooms but without televisions, phones or bathrooms. Just a small seating area with a couch, a chair and a luxurious leather bed with sturdy bedposts and no sheets. I knew, for a fact, that under the bed was every kind of bondage device a person could wish for but no sex toys. Those had to be brought in by the person using them. I hadn’t brought any tonight. I was looking for the real thing, not a plastic or rubber substitute.
After opening it, Seamus guided me through the door by placing his hand on the small of my back. A shiver flew up my spine, the likes of which I’d not felt since Yadi. It was unnerving and thrilling at the same time. Once I heard the door close and lock, I spun in place, threw my arms around Seamus’ neck and after the briefest eye contact, kissed him—fully, deeply. I didn’t want to wait. It had been a full month since I’d been to ANON because of the holidays, and I craved human touch. Seamus kissed me back with equal enthusiasm and passion. The kissing was not sweet or soft or introductory. It was not clumsy. It was full-on, mouths open, tongues tangling, hot and deep.
We came up for air on occasion, but only to place our mouths somewhere else—cheeks, neck, temple—while we removed each other’s clothes with deft and determination. He was much better at that part, skinning me of my dress quickly. I had only managed to unbutton his shirt and slide it over his shoulders. Once I was stripped to my black satin bra and matching panties, I took a step back.