Taken By The Hero (Hero Romance 2)

by Kalena Lyons

  “Yes. I knew you would see, so I can tell you this with no shame. So… it is one night, and I had been doing this now for a little over a year. And I get a call to a hotel and, again, to let you know because I sense you can guess, it’s… yes, it’s our Jack.” Micheline waved over the waiter and ordered another round.

  Laura felt warm inside; not just from the drinks, but as if the insecurities she had about Jack were being cast aside thanks to Micheline’s revelation. She drank deeply, wanting to know their secrets; knowing full well that she couldn’t penetrate into either of them deeply enough. Both seemed like successive layers of an onion, each with their own strange history, hue and fragrance, and she realized the description fit her perfectly as well. The thought frightened her; what if we get to the core, and find that nothing’s there?

  “So it is a very, very nice hotel,” continued Micheline “Which makes me nervous, because men with money, they are not so nice. But Jack, he is of course, a perfect gentleman—”

  “Excuse me, how long ago was this?”

  “Nineteen, twenty years ago.”

  “Jesus, I would have been 14.”

  “That’s OK, Laura, I had only just turned 18!” Micheline clinked her glass to Laura’s and they both downed their drinks like sailors. “Let’s not think of what that may entail, no? So yes, Jack is… older, but I had expected that. But he wasn’t that much older. And he was polite, refined. And, you know, as an escort, you talk as much as - you know. So we begin to discuss at first very everyday things. But Jack is -Jack, and he can peer inside of you. You know, he can draw things out. Don’t know how, he just does. So I begin, opening up. And at this time, we haven’t so much as kissed yet. He knows already I’m much younger than I tell him. And, he pulls up my sleeves like this,” Micheline reached over to hoist up Laura’s blouse sleeves. “And he sees my arms, with all these fucking track marks, and he kisses them, yes? And that just blew me away. I start crying, and these tears are very real. He asks me ‘Who did this to you?’ And I can’t tell him. I just can’t. But something tells me he knows. And he says, ‘I don’t need to know his name. I don’t want to know his name. But I can get you out of this. I will pay for your rehab, I will help pay for whatever it takes to get you clean, but you must to prove to me that you are more than just these track marks, that you are more than just this body...’ And I’m very confused, because I don’t know this fucking guy, he’s paying me for sex and now he’s… well, I didn’t know what he was after. But to make a long story short, I decide to spend the night with him. Just stay the night, no sex, no nothing. And Stephen at this time, he’s paging me like crazy, because I have other clients and I just don’t answer. So it’s two in the morning, and Stephen shows up at the hotel, and he’s - he’s going to murder Jack likely, yes? But Jack takes him out to the parking lot, I don’t know what happened, but Jack returns with a very satisfied look on his face. I know from his smile that everything; it’s all taken care of. The next morning, we drive together to the rehab, but right before he drops me off, I tell him how grateful I am, and how I wish to see him again, but I don’t even know his name. And he just looks at me with that look, you know, that Jack look - and he says, ‘You can call me Stephen.’”

  Both Laura and Micheline burst out laughing, so hard it seemed the entire room was drowned by the sound of their feisty cackling. The waiter came to make certain everything was alright, but Micheline sent him away to fetch another round.

  “As a bit of a post-script, while I was in rehab, there was a girl who came in who used to use with Stephen - well, my ex-boyfriend, Stephen, and I. And she asked me if I had heard about him. Well, it turns out later that morning - and I don’t know if this is a coincidence but - later that morning he was found dead of an overdose.”

  Laura’s face turned blank as the waiter arrived with their drinks. But Micheline just continued.

  “So, you see, sometimes, you can take appearances as they are, yes? But sometimes, there is something underneath it all that you don’t need to know. Is Jack’s real name even ‘Jack’? I don’t know. What I do know is that sometimes, all it takes is a simple accident to change your life around. There’s a bit of luck even in the worst circumstances sometimes, no?”

  Even in an overdose, thought Laura.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  By the time they left the bar, Laura and Micheline were drunk—not only drunk, but recklessly so. They were skipping hand in hand, into the rapidly approaching Oneida dusk, singing down Main Street at the top of their lungs like a couple of teenage girls who had just ransacked their father’s liquor cabinet. They stopped inside a boutique, where Micheline had decided—on a whim—to purchase lingerie for Laura as a welcoming gift. Not only had she managed to get Laura’s measurements correct without asking, but also she had picked out Laura’s favorite color —light lavender—solely on a personal whim. She paid for her purchases with such gusto, that the elderly matron behind the counter was worried for her mental sanity.

  As for Laura, she couldn’t stop looking and wondering about Micheline. This woman—a heroin addict and escort at 17, a long-term confidante of her new beau, a beauty the likes of which she had never seen before—was like no one she had ever met. She was alluring, free-spirited, profound, brave, intelligent, assured and undeniably, unequivocally, irrepressibly sexy.

  Laura was hardly a prude. But if there’s one thing she knew she was not, it was bisexual. She had engaged in a threesome with another girl a few times when she was in college, solely to appease her boyfriend; but the experience had left her cold and frankly, numb. Yet watching Micheline, her petite frame gesticulating wildly in the drunken air, her thick head of hair waving about her doll-like face, her sultry laugh wheezing through the main street of this sleepy little burg, made her feel alive in a way she had never experienced before. As they passed a desolate alley, lit only by a flickering streetlight, she pulled her hand forcefully; so forcefully, Micheline almost stumbled.

  “Laura, do watch yourself, yes?”

  But Laura seized her and pushed her against a wall, holding the back of her head with her hands and kissed her with such a fury it almost took both their breaths away. To her delight, Micheline didn’t struggle. She wrapped a leg around Laura’s, reaching into her purse with the pretext of dropping it next to her. Their tongues rolled over one another, Laura savoring Micheline’s breath as she reached to grope the inside of her baggy sweater. She was surprised that Micheline had such a voluptuous figure, and she felt her large breasts alive and warm in her hands. Micheline grabbed hold of Laura, and squeezed her tightly against her, reaching under her dress to draw out the wetness that was beginning to collect between her legs. Their kisses were drunken and driven by a savage desperation. They would have eaten each other alive if they could have.

  Micheline slid one hand between Laura’s legs, and used the other to toy with the crack of her ass through her dress. She swung Laura around and leaned her against the wall, her fingers slipping inside her and strumming rapidly, expertly, the now cool night air whipping between them, threatening them, and letting them know that the threat of being caught in this uncompromising position could come at any second. Micheline’s fingers drummed ever more quickly now, and Laura felt the wetness dripping from her legs, coating her as the wind whipped around them. Micheline dropped to her knees, forcing Laura against the wall as she coaxed the shuddering of an orgasm out of her with deft fingers and an even defter tongue. Laura’s chest heaved and spasmed in the dim haze of the alley lamp.

  Her skin felt electric in the night air as Micheline looked up at her satisfactorily, giving one final warm kiss on her mouth as Laura struggled to regain her balance.

  “Oh god,” Laura uttered lowly between gasps. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I… I just—”

  Micheline placed a single finger to her lips. “Not another word, yes? There is nothing to be ashamed of. But, we should think of heading back, yes? What time is it?”

  Laura ch
ecked her watch. “Shit! It’s 9 o’clock. We were supposed to be at Jack’s almost three hours ago!”

  “Relax. Let me text Jack. I’ll tell him we got held up. We’ll get a cab back, yes? In the meantime, you may want to fix yourself back up. You look a little - shall we say a mess?” Michilene smiled as Laura reached into her purse to prepare herself. The desolate night alley seemed even lonelier as the two women walked towards the main drag.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Despite Micheline’s reassurances, Laura was still nervous about stepping foot in Jack’s. Both were still more than a little drunk, although Laura had tried to fix herself up as much as possible given her state. Her hair was still matted, and her sheer lip-gloss was a little crooked; and the smell of sweat clung to her like a dress a bit too tight. But still, she looked as presentable as she could be given the state she was in. Micheline, however, was impossibly drunk (or so it appeared), swaying and clinging on to Laura during the cab ride back. By the time they arrived at Jack’s, Laura had to put her arms under Micheline for support.

  Jack was none too pleased to see either of them in that state. “Darling cheri, how much I’ve missed you,” slurred Micheline, as she ran into Jack’s impassive arms to throw the whole weight of her drunken body around him. But Jack’s frown was less than accommodating.

  “Drunk again,” he muttered with more than a hint of disgust in his voice.

  “Yes, but darling, I was having such a lovely time with Laura, I couldn’t help myself - you must understand…”

  “Yes, yes. I understand. Well, there’s some left over roast in the kitchen for you both. As well as some very good Moselle, but somehow I don’t think quality might mean all that much to either of you right now…”

  “Oh darling, don’t be angry, Laura and I were just simply getting to know one another a bit… isn’t that right, Laura?”

  Laura nodded politely, uncertain of just how angry Jack may actually have been. As it stood, he merely gave her the same good-natured smile he may have given to a small child. She decided to intervene.

  “Look, it’s all my fault. I was a little intimidated by Micheline, so I suggested grabbing a few drinks, just so I could take the edge off. I’m sorry, we weren’t expecting to—”

  “It’s quite alright. I’m not disappointed - just something I’ve come to expect from Micheline. Now, if either of you are hungry—”

  “No, no mon cheri!” exclaimed Micheline. “But I must insist, you should see what I did buy with Laura. Laura, do show him, yes?”

  Laura reached in the bag to hold up the lavender bustier, hanging loosely in her hand. “No, no, cheri... “ Micheline laughed. “You must show him how sexy you look in it.”

  Laura gave her a bashful, quizzical look. Micheline could tell she was hesitant, but insisted that she try on the lingerie. “Oh, don’t be a prude, yes? Go on, try it on, show him how sexy you look…”

  Jack simply gave her a non-committal look as she slunk off to the bathroom. It was a look of absolute disinterest, and a look that wounded Laura to the core.

  Once inside the bathroom, Laura took a deep look into the full-length mirror. Drunk as she was, she looked at herself from every angle imaginable. She saw a face, mildly attractive normally, now reddened and stewed from alcohol. She saw love handles that, no matter how much she pinched or prodded, would always sag. And in her matching bustier and panties, she saw a woman that was little more than chintzy wrapping paper in comparison to the flawless gem that was Micheline.

  But she looked closer. She saw, as plain as day, an insatiable fire reflecting in her slate-grey eyes. She saw a body that seethed and pulsed with a new, raw electricity, something otherwise hidden from her for thirty-four short, unremarkable years. She saw a quenchless thirst, a desire more primal than anything she had ever known. She saw herself as courtesan and queen, priestess and whore. She saw a lascivious grin grow across her mouth, and she knew it was time to come to terms with this strange new skin.

  She spent the better part of half an hour fixing her make-up in the mirror; choosing the right subtle rouge to accent her flushed cheeks; the right shade of wine-red lipstick; and the right hint of perfume. She combed her hair immaculately, coiffing it in a tightly wound bob. When she was finished, she caressed the heaving voluptuous body staring back at her in the mirror. She wanted to reach right through and stroke and grope every inch of that reflection. She gave herself a teasing pout in the mirror, and pleased with the affect, froze it simply and assuredly, strolled into the front room.

  The room was dimly lit, with only candles flickering in votives across the mantle. She drew a certain power from the ambience as she slunk in, and narrowed her eyes in due accord. Her eyes eventually came across the sight of Micheline’s nude body, helpless and with legs splayed strategically on a chair. Her hands and legs were bound to the chair expertly with silk rope, forming an exquisite criss-cross pattern up and down her soft, marble-like limbs. A leather mouth bit had been stretched across her face, but she revealed no signs of struggle. On the contrary, her voluptuous flesh sank into the restraints willingly, fusing into her body as naturally as other women might choose to adorn themselves with jewels. Even her eyes seemed to linger in the heady atmosphere of her constraints, both appreciatively and seductively, her eyes transmitting a fume of cold smoke that filled Laura’s nostrils. She could feel her heart racing as she stepped closer to the helpless figure.

  “I am so tired of sloppy drunks,” Jack’s voice resounded from the couch. She turned around to face him. “Not. Another. STEP,” he commanded, his low steady voice suddenly growing stern and authoritarian. “Turn back around.”

  Laura did so, deeply taking great gasps of breath to try to still her quivering body. It didn’t help. Jack got up from the couch, her back facing him and guided her by the arm directly to the seated Micheline, who looked, for all ostensible purposes, like some stolen ancient queen seated on her throne.

  “Kneel,” he commanded, forcing Laura directly on her knees in front of Micheline. He tied a blindfold around her eyes, and adjusted it securely, bringing her hands down to the floor. He unlaced her bustier, and let it fall to the floor where it landed (at least to Laura’s ears) with less a thud than a crumple.

  “Kiss her knees,” he said nonchalantly. She stuck her lips out and did so, not expecting the sting of the leather thongs against her bare back. She winced, both from the pain and surprise, but also felt the blood rushing from her head to her solar plexus. It warmed her, coating her skin in a thin skein of pins and needles as Jack expertly swung it across her back a second time. It was swung with a delicacy and a method that was as much punishment as it was encouragement for Laura to look down deeper into herself. Deeper and deeper…

  The thongs tickled down from her neck to the base of her spine, teasing her, taunting her, tempting her. She buried her face against Micheline’s legs, tasting her sweat beginning to seep onto Laura’s parched tongue. A faint hint of tears began to make their way down her blindfold, staining the rouge on her cheeks.

  She didn’t know what possessed her, but Laura flung her hands out instinctually along the length of Micheline’s thighs, and began tracing her tongue up her soft, ample thighs. She longed to taste Micheline in her mouth more than anything right now, but she also knew that Jack controlled the reins. He gave her one final lash against her back, before she shuddered and straightened her back up.

  Laura flung her arms up, blindly caressing the whole of Micheline’s splayed flesh before her; the smooth, soft belly; the ample breasts, the supple, inviting neck. Restrained though she was, she could feel Micheline shudder with each stroke of Laura’s greedy fingers. She kneaded and caressed each centimeter of her inviting flesh, no longer caring that tears were streaming down her cheeks. Tears not of pain, or shame, but of surrender and absolute gratitude. She reached her hands across Micheline’s hips and rested her head in her lap.

  Suddenly, she felt Jack’s strong hands gripping the back of her head, forcing her
slightly pursed mouth against the insides of Micheline’s legs. Laura could taste her wetness, her heat just mere inches from her lips, and began salivating. As if on cue, she raised her ass high in the air for Jack. He responded by pulling down her panties in one forceful tug with one hand, gripping the back of Laura’s head so closely she had no choice but to breathe in the warm and commanding fumes from between Micheline’s kegs. She felt him pry her own legs apart, entering her from behind in one forceful thrust, gasping as she felt the curve of Jack’s prick inside her. She began lapping at Micheline, the taste of her curdling in her mouth as Jack arched his hips in even deeper, his prick humming subtly and sending tendrils of electricity through Laura’s body. She savored Micheline as Jack began thrusting in and out of her, holding on to her hips as he did so. Every now and then, he would give her a playful spanking, sending shudders through her body as he snaked and curved inside her. Her mouth was getting greedy, and she didn’t know how much more any of them could take. Then, she felt a slight hum against the bud of her asshole; a bud which now unexpectedly swallowed a loudly humming and cylindrical leather object.

  The few times in the past she had tried anal play left her humiliated. They were given with such heavy-handedness and savagery that she felt used, not an object of sexual desire, but simply a plaything to pass away the time. But with Jack, it felt different. She felt alive when he began playing with her ass. He accommodated her completely, using every inch of her body for his own pleasure. She could feel an inner strength when he used her that way, of flexibility and yielding, not of rigidity. She not only welcomed the foreign object in her ass, she craved it; and her cries echoed through Micheline like rippling peals of thunder.

  She felt it first in the back of her skull, then from the arches of her feet. The contractions seemed to begin simultaneously, a mutual flame shared by all three parties that began building and building, slowly but surely burning away all barriers between the three of them. Laura felt it in the most hidden, most interior depths of her being. All physical sensation—the musk of Micheline filling her nostrils, her sweet, metallic taste alive and corrosive in her mouth; the gliding and rippling feel of Jack inside of her as he toyed with the vibrator inside of her asshole; all was irrelevant. Window dressing. What mattered now was the pressure that was meeting at her chest, compressing until it threatened to explode, burrowing down in the pit of her stomach, increasing intensity until she could bear it no longer.