Treble

by Desiree Holt, Lisabet Sarai, Lily Harlem, Elizabeth Coldwell, Wendi Zwaduk, Imari Jade

  “Hey, darlin’!” Zeke greeted her with his typical warmth. “He’s really something, isn’t he?”

  “Sure is. But where’d he go?”

  “No idea. He practically ran off the stage. Almost like he was spooked by the crowd.”

  Ruby pushed past the doorman, out into the chill April night. She peered into the darkness. The sidewalks were empty. There was no sign of the smooth, self-contained stranger whose touch she’d craved so badly.

  Just as well, commented the sour voice in her head. The last thing you need in your life is another lover.

  * * * *

  Ruby flipped onto her back and stretched, working the kinks out of her muscles. How delicious she felt—warm, relaxed, fuzzy with sleep and definitely well-fucked. Her pussy was a bit tender. It fluttered around her fingers as she explored the still-slick folds. Echoes of her three climaxes shimmered through her. There was a twinge at her shoulder, where Zeke had bitten her. She didn’t mind. She’d marked him, too—her fingernails leaving bloody crescents along his back. They’d remind him of her for the next day or two.

  He slept beside her, his breathing deep and even. A complex perfume hung in the air of her small bedroom—sweat and semen, pussy and sandalwood incense.

  She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think. She just wanted to lie there with her lover within reach and the rest of the world far away. Being with Zeke seemed to be the only thing that brought her this kind of comfort. She loved Isaiah dearly and enjoyed his company, but in her son’s presence she could never quite banish her worries.

  The thought of her son roused her. She leaned over to peer at the alarm clock. When she saw the time, she sighed and gave Zeke a gentle shake.

  “Wake up, baby. You’ve gotta go.”

  In one smooth motion, Zeke rolled towards her and gathered her into his arms. Her breasts flattened against his furry chest. “Let me stay, hon,” he murmured, nuzzling the sweet spot under her ear. His thickening cock prodded at the sticky juncture of her thighs. “It’s still early…”

  “Nearly six,” Ruby replied, relaxing into his embrace despite herself. “Isaiah will be up soon. You know how I feel.”

  “You feel wonderful,” Zeke replied, kneading her breast with one hand while wriggling the other between their bodies, down to her pussy. Ruby sucked in her breath as his fingers slipped inside her folds to stroke her clit. “And I can make you feel even better…”

  “Zeke…” she began. He stopped her objections with a deep kiss. His moustache tickled her upper lip. She tasted the bourbon he drank between sets. She loved his soft, lush mouth—she couldn’t pretend otherwise. The leisurely way his tongue played with hers suggested that he’d be happy doing nothing but kissing her forever.

  “You don’t really want me to go,” he continued when they broke for air. “You’re soaking wet, and your clit—” Ruby moaned as he flicked the swollen nub with one calloused digit. “—your clit is like a little marble.”

  “Yes… Oh, God, yes…”

  Zeke reared up and settled back onto his heels, his fingers still dancing between her legs. “You couldn’t wait to get my clothes off earlier,” he commented. It was true. As soon as the club closed, Ruby had practically dragged him up the stairs to her apartment. “But I can tell you haven’t had enough yet.”

  “No—yes—wait—oh!”

  Zeke grasped one of her thighs in each meaty hand and pulled her open. Then he bent and swept his tongue along her cleft. Pleasure shuddered through her. She arched up, wanting more. Her lover teased her, flicking back and forth between her swollen lips, but avoiding contact with her clit. She thrashed underneath him, desperate for direct stimulation.

  “Please…please, baby…”

  Finally he took pity on her. He burrowed his face into her pussy and sucked hard. Lightning shot up her spine. Tension coiled inside her. Sinking her fingers into his hair, she forced his head deeper into her drenched cunt and ground her clit against his nose.

  His teeth nipped the aching bud of flesh. The tiny pain cut her free. Pleasure welled up from her depths and spilled over. His strong hands held her fast, splayed and vulnerable, as she jerked against his still-lapping tongue.

  Before the last sparkles of sensation faded, his cock was at her entrance. He drove into her still-quivering cunt, hot and hard. Her muscles clenched around his bulk and a new climax seized her, sharper and deeper than the one before.

  Zeke didn’t let her rest. He pounded into her again and again, just the way she liked, so fierce she thought he’d split her open. As he thrust, a third come gathered, like thunderheads on the distant horizon.

  He raised her hips and draped her legs over his shoulders, manipulating her substantial body as though she weighed nothing. The new position let him go deeper. His cock filled her and took her over. His cock was the only thing in Ruby’s universe.

  Dimly she felt his fingernails digging into her butt cheeks. The sting was pure pleasure. The pang when he grazed her cervix was pleasure, too. Ruby snagged her rigid nipples and squeezed with as much force as she could muster. Pleasure. There was nothing but pleasure in her universe.

  Zeke thrust faster, his rhythm becoming irregular. Ruby knew he was losing control. His eyes were screwed tight. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a grimace of effort. She could feel his need. All she wanted from the world was to satisfy that need.

  “Fuck me, baby,” she urged. “Fuck me till I can’t walk. Fill me with your jizz!”

  His eyes snapped open. He groaned. She felt his cock jerk and dance as the cum surged out.

  “Oh, God! Ruby!” he gasped. “Ruby…”

  He gazed at her in something like adoration. She wondered, briefly, what he saw in her face. Then he reached down, pinched her clit, and once more sent her spiralling into sweet oblivion.

  It took a while for them to recover. When Ruby checked the clock again, she nearly pushed Zeke out of bed.

  “Time to get out of here,” she urged, a bit frantic. “Now!”

  “Now is that the way to treat the man who gave you so many orgasms?” Zeke’s gentle rebuke just made her feel worse. However, he was already on his feet, pulling on his jeans. “When will you let me really spend the night with you, Ruby? You know how I feel.”

  “Isaiah…”

  “Isaiah’s just an excuse. He’s thirteen, for heaven’s sake. He knows what’s going on between us. He knows I love him, too. Just as I love you.”

  Zeke enfolded her in his arms. His denim jacket grazed her bare breasts, waking phantom fragments of her past pleasure. She sagged against him, suddenly tired.

  “Let me take care of you,” he continued in a soft voice. He brushed his lips over her hair. “Marry me, Ruby.”

  Ruby stiffened. “No, Zeke. I’ve had it with marriage. You of all people should understand that. You’re my friend.”

  “I’d like to be more than your friend, darlin’. But I don’t want to put you under any more pressure. You’ve got enough on your plate already.” Zeke sighed as he pulled on his boots. “See you Tuesday night, then. Call if you need anything.”

  “I will.” Ruby gave him a solid kiss that generated new heat in her pussy. “Thanks, baby. For everything.”

  She locked the apartment door behind him. She missed him already.

  Chapter Three

  Ruby didn’t bother to go back to bed. She could hear Isaiah moving around in his room, directly above hers. Belting her robe around the waist, she made her way to the kitchen nook and opened the refrigerator. She’d been right—there were still four eggs, plus milk and a crusty lump of parmesan. She’d make them a proper breakfast for a change.

  Butter was sizzling in the cast iron skillet by the time Isaiah appeared. “Mama! You’re up!” He gave her an enthusiastic hug, almost causing her to drop the spatula. Ruby loved the fact that he still felt comfortable with that kind of physical affection. Most teenage boys would rather die than touch their mothers.

  “Got done so late
last night, it hardly seemed worthwhile going to sleep. Maybe I’ll nap after you’re gone.”

  Her son sniffed. “Cheese omelette? My favourite!” Without being asked, he pulled half a loaf from the bread box and dropped two slices into the toaster.

  “I thought pancakes were your favourite,” Ruby teased. “And what about biscuits and gravy?”

  “Um—gee, I like everything you cook!” He plumped himself down in his usual chair. Ruby set two steaming plates on the table and seated herself across from him. He dived into the food as though he hadn’t eaten in a week.

  Ruby took a bite of her own omelette. The heavenly taste of fluffy egg spiked with sharp cheese made her realise she was hungry as well. When she wasn’t eating with Isaiah, her meals tended to be pretty irregular.

  As his plate emptied, her son became more talkative. “How was the open mic?”

  “Fabulous! I’d say there were twice as many customers as usual for a Sunday. It was a great idea, hon.” Isaiah and some of his friends had a rock band called Spyder City—Isaiah played bass. After some of the girls in his class had begged to join him and his buddies on stage, he’d suggested that maybe Ruby should invite her customers to perform.

  Her son nodded sagely. “I knew it. Everybody loves to be in the spotlight.”

  “Some impressive talent, too.” Ruby’s thoughts slipped back to the lean stranger who’d triggered such powerful desire.

  “Yeah? Maybe you should invite some of them to be regulars. Uncle Zeke’s band is awesome, but people like variety.”

  “Oh really? Since when are you an entertainment mogul?” Ruby grinned and brushed her hand over his close-cropped skull. “No—don’t bother with the dishes, hon. I’ll take care of them. You go brush your teeth.”

  “You sure? I’ve got time, and you must be tired.”

  “I’m fine. Anyway, it’s nearly seven-thirty. You’d better get going!”

  Without further argument her son scampered up the stairs. Like many old buildings in New York, the one that housed Crossroads was taller than it was wide. The bar was located on the ground floor. On the second floor, Ruby had set up an office. The third floor held her bedroom, the kitchen and dining area and a tiny living room. Isaiah had the whole top floor to himself. He’d been thrilled when he’d seen the place—a spacious bedroom plus a second room where he could study and practice his bass or his violin.

  If the owner evicts you, you’ll need to find a new apartment, too. Ruby’s good mood evaporated as she remembered the letter. Resolutely, she pushed the thought into the background. She had ninety days, according to the notice. Today she needed to focus on today’s problems.

  You could marry Zeke and move in with him. The voice just wouldn’t give up. True, Zeke had a big, rent-controlled place on Gansevoort Street, not far from the Crossroads. Not that it mattered. If she got kicked out, that would be the end of the bar. She didn’t have the resources to start again.

  Damn it, she’d find a way. Determined to get past her funk, Ruby dumped her robe on the bed, stepped into the cramped shower stall and turned the faucet on full blast. Stinging needles of water pelted her skin, almost too hot to bear. She worked up a lather between her palms and spread the soap over her ripe breasts and round belly. No stretch marks. She surveyed her body with approval, admiring the contrast between the snowy foam and her smooth, espresso-coloured skin. Mama was right about some things, at least. After Isaiah’s birth, at her mother’s insistence, she’d applied cocoa butter twice a day to keep the skin moist and supple and did regular exercises to regain the muscle tone. Now she looked considerably younger than her thirty-four years.

  Not that it had mattered, of course. It hadn’t stopped Otis from sleeping with every young bitch who crossed his path. He hadn’t seemed to notice he already had a foxy wife.

  Ruby massaged a handful of suds into her pubic curls, then slid her fingers into her cleft. The touch woke delicious echoes of her coupling with Zeke. Screw Otis, she thought. I’m better off on my own, without the bastard. She resisted the impulse to stroke her clit. For one thing, the bud was so sensitive that even the barest contact was painful. I can take care of myself. I can fuck who I please—just enjoy myself. No strings. An image of the stranger’s handsome, intense face swam into her mind. Even him. Her thoughts were edged with defiance. Why not?

  * * * *

  On Monday nights the bar was closed. Typically, Ruby spent Mondays in her office—ordering supplies, paying bills and dealing with all the other mundane aspects of running a business. A blues club might seem like a glamorous and exciting endeavour, but for the most part it was no different than a nail salon or a dry cleaning shop.

  She was in the middle of entering the past week’s receipts into her computer when the bell rang downstairs. Annoyed at being interrupted, she saved her work then flipped over to the security camera screen. Who could it be? She wasn’t expecting any deliveries.

  The grainy image showed a lanky male figure wearing a leather jacket. At first Ruby didn’t recognise him—he was peering into the diamond-shaped glass panel set in the door—but when he looked up at the camera lens, she caught her breath.

  It was the bald-headed, bass-playing stranger from last night.

  Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment and confusion. What was he doing here? The bell jangled once more. Could she ignore it? Pretend that the building was empty? He pushed the button yet again, apparently convinced that there was someone to hear it.

  Finally, Ruby pushed her chair away from the desk and headed down the stairs to the ground floor. After all, last night she’d chased after this man. She’d felt bitter disappointment when he disappeared. Now here he was, as if her fevered fantasies had made him appear at her doorstep.

  When she reached the door, though, she hesitated. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her mouth was dry, while perspiration pooled under her arms. She had the sense that by opening to this stranger, she was taking some irrevocable step…something that would change her life forever.

  Don’t be superstitious. Unfastening the bolt, she swung the door open.

  Those eyes—like lasers boring into her soul. Her nipples leapt to attention under her turtleneck sweater. Her tailored slacks grew damp in the crotch.

  “Ms Jones?” Even when speaking, the man’s voice was musical, a deep river tumbling over polished stone.

  “Um—yes? Can—can I help you?” Ruby forced herself to hold his gaze, regardless of the effect it was having on her body. When he finally broke the stare to survey his long-fingered, graceful hands, she rejoiced in her small victory.

  “I—I’d like to talk with you, if I might. About a business matter.” Strange, but he appeared to be as uncomfortable she was. “My name is Remy Saint-Michel. Here’s my card.”

  As she took the snow-white rectangle, his fingertips brushed hers. Electricity shot up her arm and down her spine. She could practically hear it crackle.

  Ruby inspected the card, grateful for an excuse not to look at him. The raised lettering on fine, thick parchment spelled out his name, a phone number and the words “Bienville Associates”, presumably the name of his company. Not a clue as to what sort of enterprise it might be.

  “Come up to my office, Mr Saint-Michel,” she said finally. If they remained huddled in the doorway much longer, she was afraid she might jump him. She led the way through the dim, quiet bar then up the stairs, acutely aware of the way her ass moved under her trousers as she climbed. Was he watching? She knew he was, with the same concentration he’d lavished on her when she’d been on-stage. She was glad she had the appointment at Isaiah’s school—she was dressed more smartly than usual.

  “Please.” Ruby indicated the chair opposite hers. “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you.” Remy Saint-Michel leaned slightly forward in his seat, legs apart. His hands rested on his thighs. His lips pressed together in a tight line. He was as still as he’d been the previous night. His leather jacket hung loose and open on his broad shoulder
s. The ribbed jersey he wore underneath revealed the contours of his muscular chest and abdomen almost as clearly as if he’d been naked. Meanwhile his tight jeans made it clear that he was as affected by her presence as she was by his.

  He did not speak. He seemed to be engaged in some inner struggle. Maybe he’s having the same problem as me, Ruby thought, feeling giddy. Trying to keep from tearing my clothes off.

  Finally, she couldn’t bear the tension. “Mr Saint-Michel?”

  “Call me Remy.” Behind his glasses, his eyes were practically black, but flecked with gold.

  “You were here last night…Remy. You sang with the band.” She paused, inviting him to continue.

  “Yes…um…” His response petered out. Meanwhile the non-verbal signs were stronger than ever. His fingers dug into the flesh of his thighs. His nostrils flared as though seeking her scent. And the bulge in his groin told her all the things he didn’t seem to be able to say aloud.

  “You were amazing. Have you performed before?”

  “Not really. Just for friends—and family…” He stopped again. Ruby had a sense of power held in check, and under that…pain. Was he shy? Last night he’d appeared completely at ease, sure of himself. The blues was about opening up and letting the feelings flow. To do that, you needed to be strong. Brave.

  “Are you here because you’d like a job, Remy? Do you want to work at the Crossroads?”

  “Yes, yes, that’s it.” Relief was obvious in his face. His lips relaxed into a half-smile, revealing perfect white teeth. “I want to work for you, Ms Jones. I want to sing the blues. No, that’s not right. I need to sing the blues.” He reached for her and her heart leapt into her chest. All he did was grasp her hand, but it was enough to make her melt.

  “I understand,” she murmured. She thought she did, too, even though this man was a stranger. She didn’t know his story, but somehow, she knew his heart.

  As if by a pre-arranged signal, they both rose to their feet. Remy took a step forward, bridging the gap between them. He pulled her against his chest while his arms encircled her. Ruby tilted her chin, offering her mouth. He bent to press his lips to hers.