Mary Janice Davidson, Michele Bardsley, Chris Tanglen - Lighthearted Lust (Ellora's Cave)

by james

  He tried to disguise his joy. “Crescent, there’s something you should know— ”

  “Later. God, I’m starving. Listen, I’m going to run up ahead and see if those guys are serving breakfast yet.”

  “It’s four o’clock in the morning.”

  “I know, that’s why I want to check. Be right back.”

  He shook his head as she hurried away, then realized they were quite close to the shelter where she’d been living. Foolish to be concerned—she was a tough one to hurt, after all—but he decided to catch up with her anyway.

  That was the last rational thought he had for a while. Stupid, really—the punk shaking Crescent like a maraca looked far worse for the wear. An obvious beta type—he needed to be led. And, in abandonment, couldn’t take care of himself. He certainly wasn’t worth getting worked up over. He supposed Nick and what’s-her-name had gone on to greener pastures…or easier marks.

  “Jimmy, you idiot,” Crescent was saying, prying his fingers off her arm, “will you give it up? Grabbing me is not going to fix your life. Now buzz off.”

  “It’s all your fault,” Jimmy was insisting. “Nick and Maria took off because of you.”

  “My ass! They took off because you can’t walk ten feet down here anymore without tripping over a cop. Too bad they didn’t bring you with, huh, Jimbo?”

  Jimmy’s eyes flashed murky murder and Drake moved quickly, spinning him away from Crescent. “Just once I’d like to take a walk with you without your being assaulted,” he muttered, carefully examining her arm.

  “What can I say, I’ve got a dark past. He’s harmless. Let’s go eat.”

  He ignored her. Then he whirled and grabbed Jimmy by the throat, lifting him in the air as easily as a mother picked up her toddler.

  “Did you really,” he began. He was so angry it was hard to talk. He wanted to growl and bite. “Did you really think you could put your hands on my mate and live to see the sun come up?”

  “Whoa!” Crescent said, tugging on his arm. Before them, the punk squeaked and kicked, his face turning an interesting shade of purple. “Let go, Drake. He’s just an asshole.”

  He was shaking the man—really just an overgrown boy, but surely old enough to know better—like a dog shakes a rag doll. “Did you really?” he said

  again. “Did you?”

  “Drake! You are freaking me out, dude!”

  You’re a doctor.

  She’ll have bruises. He actually marked her—marked her with his filthy

  hands!

  But you’re a doctor. “Drake, will you put him down already? He’s passed out, for Christ’s sake. And I really don’t want to finish the day at the Cop Shop.” He growled, then flung the man away. They both watched the unconscious tough sail through the air and then hit the street like a sack of sand. Jimmy groaned, but didn’t regain consciousness. “Jeez, overprotective much?” But she was smiling. “Remind me to never tell

  you about my years on the streets.” “You will tell me.” “Later. When that vein in your forehead isn’t throbbing. Yuck, by the way.” “He touched you. He should never have done that.” “Yes, and I think he gets that now! Your mate?” she added, teasing. “Is that

  what I am?” He put his arms around her. “Yes. That’s what you are.” “Well, all right. Let’s go eat.” “If I have to look at another pancake, I may well vomit.” “Dude, it’s fine. I’ll get waffles,” she added with a wicked grin, and stretched

  up, and kissed him. “I have to tell you something. No waffles. I’ve put this off long enough—” “What, no waffles, like, ever?” “Crescent…this may be hard to believe…” She kissed him again. “Your intolerance of starchy foods?” “Be serious. I’m talking about—” “The fact that you can see me?” He blinked. “Well…yes. You’re not surprised.” “Of course not.” She smiled at him and he swore he could almost see her

  glowing. “I granted your wish. Apparently it’s what we do.” “News to me! What exactly did I wish for? To have you in my life, or to see

  you?” “I don’t know, but it’s kind of nice that you got it all in one package, isn’t it?” He supposed it was.

  THE END About the author:

  MaryJanice Davidson welcomes mail from readers. You can write to them c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.

  Also by MARYJANICE DAVIDSON:

  Canis Royal: Bridefight Love Lies Naughty or Nice Thief of Hearts Things That Go Bump In The Night 2

  The Lust Bastion

  by Michele R. Bardsley

  Dear Reader,

  In creating my hero, Smenkare, I used creative license with the facts of his birth and the circumstances of his disappearance from Egyptian history. Not much is known about Smenkare. Speculation about his relationship to Akhenaten, the Heretic King, is much in debate. Some scholars believe he was Akhenaten’s brother or nephew, others that he was the half-brother of Tutankhamen. A few have gone so far as to suggest Smenkare, who served as co­regent for a couple of years before the king’s death and ruled Egypt for a very short time afterward, was really Nefertiti disguising herself as a man. Yet another theory is that Smenkare was Akhenaten’s beloved male lover.

  I chose to make Smenkare the half-brother of Tutenkhamen, the older brother destined to rule Egypt. In my story, Smenkare does not die, but succumbs to another fate. I’ve made him the son of Kiya, who was, in reality, the second wife of Akhenaten and the mother of Tutenkhamen. I’ve made Nefertiti, the King’s Great Wife, the mother of Tutenkhamen, but in truth, she birthed six daughters for the King, but no sons.

  Another Egyptian historical figure I mention in this tale is Ay, who was the part of Akhenaten’s high court and some speculate the real power behind the throne. After King Tut died, his young wife, Ankhesenamun, married Ay, and not long after, disappeared. No one knows what happened to her, but scholars discovered a letter from her written to the Hittites, historical enemies of the Egyptians, begging for one of their princes to marry. Some believe that Ay married the young queen to secure his position as pharaoh then killed her.

  One final note: You may notice that I spell King Tut’s name as Tutankhamen and Tutankhaten. Both spellings are correct. When Akhenaten died, his religion died with him. When Tut came to the throne, he embraced the old gods, probably as a political move to garner favor from the people and from the ousted priests of Amun.

  Thank you for your indulgence. I hope you enjoy the story of Smenkare and Kira Maxwell. I welcome your comments and invite you to drop me a line at michelebardsley@yahoo.com.

  With love and laughter,

  Michele R. Bardsley

  CHAPTER ONE

  Kira Maxwell wanted a vibrator.

  Not just any vibrator.

  An ultra-orgasmic won’t-leave-after-it’s-over long thick take-me-to-heaven

  vibrator.

  She wanted a Pharaoh 3000.

  Kira pulled into the parking lot of The Lust Bastion Erotica Emporium and parked her Saturn in the one available space. She turned off the engine, tucked her keys into her coat pocket, and took a deep breath. A fresh pine scent assaulted her, stinging her nose, and she sneezed.

  Stupid air freshener. When would Selena stop putting the darn things in her car? She tugged off the tiny foul-smelling paper tree and threw it into the backseat. Kira looked into the rearview mirror and faced her scared reflection. “Go in, make the purchase, leave.”

  She opened the door.

  And shut it.

  She hugged the steering wheel. HOOONNNNKKK.

  “Shit!” Heart pounding, Kira released the wheel and the horn ceased its whiny protest. Geesh. Even her car didn’t want affection. It must be male.

  Hands trembling, she dug her lipstick out of her purse and dropped it on the floor. “Oh for heaven’s—ow!” Her head smacked the dashboard and she straightened, rubbing the sore spot on her forehead. Giving up on the lipstick, she checked her reflection again. Naked lips. Damn. She fluffed her hair and

&
nbsp; checked her earrings.

  I can’t believe I’m primping for a vibrator. It’s not like I have to date it.

  Kira opened the door.

  And shut it.

  The only time she’d ever been in a porn shop was in college when she and some girlfriends went to buy gag gifts for a bachelorette party. She’d been too embarrassed to look at the weird contraptions, blow-up dolls, and assorted body gels. When she moved to Las Vegas two years ago to take the job at Marketing For Morons, she’d noticed the adult bookstores were almost as numerous as the casinos. Now, here she was, contemplating a trip into Naughty Naughty Land because she wanted a pleasure tool all her own.

  God, she was tired of lousy sex. And lousy, fuck-me-once men.

  Kira opened the door.

  And rammed the large rear end of a woman trying to get into the car next to her.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Kira couldn’t get out of the car because the woman took up most of the space between the two cars. She closed the door, the woman scuttled past, and Kira dashed out of the car, managing to push the

  lock in before shutting the door.

  “Margaret, honey, are you okay?”

  Another portly woman rounded the car and grabbed the arm of Large Rear

  End. Kira grimaced at her uncharitable thoughts. “I’m truly sorry.”

  “It’s okay, honey. Plenty of padding there. No bumps or bruises.”

  To Kira’s shock, Margaret’s friend grabbed her ample rear and massaged it.

  “You’re sure it’s all right? Maybe I should check it out.”

  Margaret giggled. “Thelma, you are so ornery.”

  Thelma grinned. They turned to look at Kira, who couldn’t stop staring at

  them with an open mouth.

  “First lesbian sighting, dearie?”

  “Uh, no. Well, yes.”

  “Don’t worry. You can’t catch it.”

  “Catch it?”

  “Lesbianism.”

  “Oh.”

  Margaret tapped Thelma’s arm. “Don’t tease her. We’ll just get out of your

  way. Headed to the Emporium?”

  “Uh…” Kira looked behind her at the building, made to look like an Egyptian palace. “I was just going to—”

  “There’s no shame in sex, no shame at all. Go on in, find some fun.” Margaret winked at her. Then she kissed Thelma. They pulled apart, sloppy grins on their grandmotherly faces. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

  The older women got into their car, leaving Kira to go into the store or jump in her car and forget about buying a Pharaoh 3000 vibrator.

  She took a deep breath and, before she could change her mind, walked to the building. She grabbed the ornate gold handle and paused, studying the huge wood doors. Carved in individual squares were images of people having sex. All kinds of people in all kinds of positions. Men and women. Women and women. Men and men. She leaned closer. Was that a goat?

  “In or out, lady. Ain’t got all day.”

  Kira yelped and released the handle. She looked over her shoulder at the scruffy little man behind her. She moved aside, allowed him to open the door, and followed him into The Lust Bastion.

  Kira gaped at the inside of the Emporium. She felt like she’d been transported to an Egyptian temple. Beautiful pillars carved with hieroglyphics and painted with bright reds, blues, and yellows reached from floor to ceiling. She felt excessively respectful…until she noticed the blow-up dolls in a glass case near the door. The blow-up girl was bent over, her round plastic ass arced toward the blow-up boy, who’d put his “realistic” penis into her “realistic” pussy. Kira read the display sign: “Mighty Mike and Pussy Galore in Dogs Rutting Position.”

  “How romantic,” muttered Kira. She looked at Mighty Mike and wondered about the possibility of taking him home. A man she could deflate, fold, and put away in a drawer until she needed him appealed to her. No broken promises. No insincere lies. No fake feelings.

  Across from the “Dogs Rutting” display was another glass case with another pair of blow-up dolls. The woman doll lay on a zillion rose petals, one leg up on the guy’s shoulder. Her hand covered her clit. The guy had one plastic arm behind him, another in front of the woman’s prostrate leg, and his penis inserted in her vagina. “Big Ben and Grace Slick in Sideways Fuck Position” said the sign above the dolls.

  Who the hell came up with these names? Drunk frat guys watching pornos? Sheesh. Kira stopped gawking at the displays and walked into the main part of the store. An electric zing pinioned her between the pillars. The odd feeling lasted only seconds, but she felt strange, as if she’d been momentarily examined and judged.

  She shook her head. Of course, she would feel like she was being judged. She felt guilty about being in a porn shop. She felt guilty about seeking an instrument for her own pleasure. She felt guilty that she couldn’t attract a single decent guy into her life.

  “There’s no reason to feel guilty,” purred a low feminine voice.

  Kira turned and found herself under the scrutiny of a beautiful woman. Dark eyes assessed Kira. She was dressed like an Egyptian, from flowing white garments to multi-colored jewelry, from the thin sandals on her slender feet to the band of gold surrounding her dark hair. Dark kohl lined her eyes, but that seemed to be the only concession to Egyptian make-up. Her skin was so flawless, she didn’t need the war paint most women used just to look halfway decent. Her features were almost cat-like, and her feline smile only solidified Kira’s impression of a prowling kitty.

  “You read minds here at the ol’ Emporium?” Kira, wondered if this exotic woman was as psychic as she was gorgeous.

  “I read expressions.” The woman’s smile twitched. “A young woman alone in my store of erotic wonders…you have been mistreated by men. You seek to fulfill your own pleasure.”

  “Someone told me about the Pharaoh 3000,” said Kira, before she lost her nerve. No way was she going to peruse the shelves. From the size of the vibrator section, she’d be in here for three days trying to find the one she wanted.

  “I am Bast.” The woman held out her hand.

  Kira took it, wondering at the unusual name. The woman gripped her hand a

  few seconds longer than necessary, her gaze so intense Kira blushed.

  “You are the one,” announced Bast.

  “Uh…what?”

  “The vibrator you asked for, it is not for you. I have something special, something you will like better.”

  While she wasn’t an expert on vibrators, Kira was damned sure about the product she wanted to buy. She’d clipped the ad from a porn magazine she’d stolen from her co-worker’s desk. The ragged paper had been in her purse for the last two weeks. It had taken her that long to gather enough courage to drive to The Lust Bastion.

  “Look, I know what I want. Just sell me the Pharaoh 3000 and I’ll be on my way.”

  Bast did not reply. Instead she led Kira behind the cashier’s counter, through a dark purple curtain, and into a small room. Unease crept up Kira’s spine. It shouldn’t be this difficult to purchase one stinkin’ sex toy!

  The woman gestured for Kira to stay put then she continued through a second purple curtain. Kira debated about leaving the room, running out the door, and never returning. Wasn’t her hand just as good a tool as a vibrator? An orgasm was an orgasm, right?

  “For you,” said Bast as she re-entered the room. She held up a white box with symbols carved on the top of it. “Sit.”

  Kira looked down at the small exquisitely carved wood table and its matching chairs. She hadn’t noticed them before. Curiosity piqued, she scooted onto a chair and waited to see what was in the white box.

  Bast opened the box, unfolded layers of tissue paper, and removed a large gold vibrator. Gold. Long, with a thick head and realistic balls, it was lust

  inspiring.

  Kira stared, fascinated. “Why is it gold?”

  “It is the appropriate color for a gift.” She handed it to Kira.
/>
  Kira took it, amazed at how real it felt—almost as warm and soft as a man’s flesh. She flipped it over and saw a tiny black button. She pointed to it. “I turn it on here, right? How do I control the speed?”

  “The vibrator knows what you need,” replied Bast. “It’s intuitive.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Computer chips with emotional sensors.”

  “Oh.” Kira wasn’t sure she believed such technology existed. “What’s this one called?”

  “The Great Smenkare.”

  “The Great Smenkare? That’s a sucky name for a vibrator.”

  Bast’s smile suggested a private joke. “It fits for this one. You may take it

  with you for two hundred and fifty dollars.”

  Kira dropped the vibrator; it thunked to the table. “Are you nuts? That’s enough for a gourmet lunch and a spa treatment. And maybe some new eye shadow from Esteé Lauder.”

  “You don’t need those things. You need this.” Bast plucked the golden dick from the table and placed it back in the box. “You won’t regret the purchase. I

  guarantee it.”

  “Is that a money-back guarantee?”

  Bast lifted an elegant shoulder. “If you like.”

  Kira frowned. That sure didn’t sound like a guarantee. She looked at The Great Smenkare nestled in the tissue paper. Truth was, she could afford it. She tended to be a penny pincher, which a former therapist had pointed out was due to her growing up in a poor family who had survived on government welfare and charity. Kira had already figured out that much and that’s why Captain Obvious was now her former therapist.

  She wasn’t sure why she wanted the vibrator, but the need to own it crept inside her like a thief sneaking into a museum. Desire overtook her in an odd sweeping rush. She wanted to feel it rub her clit, stroke her pussy, sensitize her nipples. Images of her and the golden cock consumed her thoughts. Her lips parted and her breath exited in a pleasurable gasp. Her glazed eyes looked at Bast. “I’ll take it.”